When all the novelists and spinners of elaborate fictions have been read and judged, we shall find that the peasant and the nurse are still unsurpassed as mere narrators. They are the guardians of that treasury of legend which comes to us from the very childhood of nations; they and their tales are the abstract and brief chronicles, not of an age merely, but of the whole race of man. It is theirs to keep alive the great art of telling stories as a thing wholly apart from and independent of the art of writing stories, and to pass on their art to children and to children's children. They abide in a realm of their own, in blessed isolation from that world of professional authors and their milk-and-water books "for children. " --C. B. TINKER, "In Praise of Nursery Lore, " _The Unpopular Review_, October-December, 1916. CHILDREN'S LITERATURE A TEXTBOOK OF SOURCES FOR TEACHERS AND TEACHER-TRAINING CLASSES EDITED, WITH INTRODUCTIONS, NOTES, AND BIBLIOGRAPHIES _BY_ CHARLES MADISON CURRY _AND_ ERLE ELSWORTH CLIPPINGER _Professors of Literature in the Indiana State Normal School_ [Illustration] RAND McNALLY & COMPANY CHICAGO NEW YORK _Copyright, 1920, by_ RAND MCNALLY & COMPANY _Copyright, 1921, by_ RAND MCNALLY & COMPANY All rights reserved Edition of 1926 [Illustration] Made in U. S. A. THE CONTENTS SECTION I PREFACE AND GENERAL INTRODUCTION _General Bibliography_ 2 _The Preface_ 5 _General Introduction_ 7 1. Literature for Children 7 2. Literature in the Grades 8 3. Story-Telling and Dramatization 10 4. Courses of Study 13 SECTION II MOTHER GOOSE JINGLES AND NURSERY RHYMES _Bibliography_ 18 _Introductory_ 19 MOTHER GOOSE (Shorter rhymes): 1. A cat came fiddling out of a barn 23 2. A diller, a dollar 23 3. As I was going to St. Ives 23 4. As I was going up Pippen Hill 23 5. As I went to Bonner 23 6. As Tommy Snooks and Bessie Brooks 23 7. A swarm of bees in May 23 8. Baa, baa, black sheep 23 9. Barber, barber, shave a pig 23 10. Birds of a feather flock together 23 11. Bless you, bless you, burnie bee 23 12. Bobby Shafto's gone to sea 24 13. Bow, wow, wow 24 14. Bye, baby bunting 24 15. Come when you're called 24 16. Cross patch 24 17. Curly locks, curly locks 24 18. Dance, little baby 24 19. Diddle, diddle, dumpling 24 20. Ding, dong, bell 24 21. Doctor Foster 24 22. Eggs, butter, cheese, bread 24 23. For every evil under the sun 24 24. Four-and-twenty tailors 25 25. Great A, little a 25 26. Hark, hark 25 27. Here sits the Lord Mayor 25 28. Here we go up, up, up 25 29. Hey! diddle, diddle 25 30. Hickery, dickery, 6 and 7 25 31. Higgledy, Piggledy 25 32. Hickory, dickory, dock 25 33. Hogs in the garden 25 34. Hot-cross buns 26 35. Hub a dub dub 26 36. Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall 26 37. If all the sea were one sea 26 38. If all the world was apple-pie 26 39. If I'd as much money as I could spend 26 40. If "ifs" and "ands" 26 41. If wishes were horses 26 42. I had a little pony 26 43. I had a little hobby horse 26 44. I have a little sister 27 45. I'll tell you a story 27 46. In marble walls as white as milk 27 47. I went up one pair of stairs 27 48. Jack and Jill went up the hill 27 49. Jack be nimble 27 50. Jack Sprat could eat no fat 27 51. Knock at the door 27 52. Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home 27 53. Little boy blue, come blow your horn 27 54. Little girl, little girl, where have you been 27 55. Little Jack Horner 28 56. Little Jack Jingle 28 57. Little Johnny Pringle 28 58. Little Miss Muffet 28 59. Little Nancy Etticoat 28 60. Little Robin Redbreast 28 61. Little Tommy Tucker 28 62. Long legs, crooked thighs 28 63. Lucy Locket lost her pocket 28 64. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John 28 65. Mistress Mary, quite contrary 28 66. Multiplication is vexation 28 67. Needles and pins 29 68. Old King Cole 29 69. Once I saw a little bird 29 70. One for the money 29 71. One misty, moisty morning 29 72. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 29 73. One, two 29 74. Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man 29 75. Pease-porridge hot 29 76. Peter, Peter, pumpkin-eater 30 77. Peter Piper picked a peck 30 78. Poor old Robinson Crusoe 30 79. Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, where have you been 30 80. Pussy sits beside the fire 30 81. Ride a cock-horse to Banbury-cross 30 82. Ride, baby, ride 30 83. Rock-a-bye, baby 30 84. Rock-a-bye, baby, thy cradle is green 30 85. See a pin and pick it up 30 86. See, saw, sacradown 31 87. Shoe the little horse 31 88. Sing a song of sixpence 31 89. Star light, star bright 31 90. The King of France went up the hill 31 91. The lion and the unicorn 31 92. The man in the moon 31 93. The north wind doth blow 31 94. The Queen of Hearts she made some tarts 31 95. There was a crooked man 31 96. There was a little boy went into a barn 32 97. There was a man and he had naught 32 98. There was a man in our town 32 99. There was an old man 32 100. There was an old woman, and what do you think 32 101. There was an old woman lived under a hill 32 102. There was an old woman of Leeds 32 103. There was an old woman of Norwich 32 104. There was an old woman tossed up in a basket 32 105. There was an old woman who lived in a shoe 33 106. There was an owl lived in an oak 33 107. This is the way the ladies ride 33 108. This little pig went to market 33 109. Three blind mice 33 110. Three wise men of Gotham 33 111. To market, to market, to buy a fat pig 33 112. Tom, Tom, the piper's son 33 113. Two-legs sat upon three-legs 33 114. When a twister a-twisting 34 115. "Willy boy, Willy boy, where are you going?" 34 WILHELMINA SEEGMILLER 116. Milkweed Seeds 34 117. An Anniversary 34 118. Twink! twink! 34 MOTHER GOOSE (Longer rhymes) 119. A Was an Apple-Pie 34 120. Tom Thumb's Alphabet 35 121. Where Are You Going 35 122. Molly and I 35 123. London Bridge 36 124. I Saw a Ship 36 125. There Was an Old Woman 36 126. Little Bo-Peep 37 127. Cock a Doodle Doo 37 128. Three Jovial Huntsmen 37 129. There Was a Little Man 37 130. Taffy 38 131. Simple Simon 38 132. A Farmer Went Trotting 38 133. Tom the Piper's Son 38 134. When I Was a Little Boy 39 135. The Babes in the Wood 39 136. The Fox and His Wife 40 137. For Want of a Nail 40 138. A Man of Words 40 139. Jemima 41 140. Mother Hubbard and Her Dog 41 141. The Courtship, Merry Marriage, and Picnic Dinner of Cock Robin and Jenny Wren 42 142. The Burial of Poor Cock Robin 44 143. Dame Wiggins of Lee, and Her Seven Wonderful Cats 45 144. This Is the House That Jack Built 47 145. The Egg in the Nest 49 146. Change About 49 SECTION III FAIRY STORIES--TRADITIONAL TALES _Bibliography_ 52 _Introductory_ 53 ENGLISH: 147. The Old Woman and Her Pig 56 148. Henny-Penny 58 149. Teeny-Tiny 59 150. The Cat and the Mouse 60 151. The Story of the Three Little Pigs 61 152. Titty Mouse and Tatty Mouse 63 153. The Story of the Three Bears 64 154. The Three Sillies 67 155. Lazy Jack 69 156. The Story of Mr. Vinegar 71 157. Jack and the Beanstalk 73 158. Tom Thumb 79 159. Whittington and His Cat 84 160. Tom Tit Tot 89 FRENCH: 161. Little Red Riding Hood 92 162. True History of Little Golden Hood 94 163. Puss in Boots 97 164. Toads and Diamonds 100 165. Cinderella, or the Little Glass Slipper 102 166. Drakestail 106 167. Beauty and the Beast 110 NORWEGIAN: 168. Why the Bear Is Stumpy-Tailed 122 169. The Three Billy-Goats Gruff 123 170. The Husband Who Was to Mind the House 124 171. Boots and His Brothers 125 172. The Quern at the Bottom of the Sea 128 GERMAN: 173. The Traveling Musicians 131 174. The Blue Light 134 175. The Elves and the Shoemaker 136 176. The Fisherman and His Wife 138 177. Rose-Bud 142 178. Rumpelstiltskin 144 179. Snow-White and Rose-Red 146 INDIAN: 180. The Lambikin 150 181. Tit for Tat 151 182. The Tiger, the Brahman, and the Jackal 152 183. Pride Goeth before a Fall 154 JAPANESE: 184. The Mirror of Matsuyama 156 185. The Tongue-Cut Sparrow 158 SLAVIC: 186. The Straw Ox 160 IRISH: 187. Connla and the Fairy Maiden 162 188. The Horned Women 164 189. King O'Toole and His Goose 165 SECTION IV FAIRY STORIES--MODERN FANTASTIC TALES _Bibliography_ 170 _Introductory_ 171 ABRAM S. ISAACS 190. A Four-Leaved Clover 174 I. The Rabbi and the Diadem 174 II. Friendship 175 III. True Charity 175 IV. An Eastern Garden 176 SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 191. The Lord Helpeth Man and Beast 177 HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN 192. The Real Princess 179 193. The Emperor's New Clothes 180 194. The Nightingale 183 195. The Fir Tree 190 196. The Tinder Box 195 197. The Hardy Tin Soldier 200 198. The Ugly Duckling 203 FRANCES BROWNE 199. The Story of Fairyfoot 209 OSCAR WILDE 200. The Happy Prince 217 RAYMOND MACDONALD ALDEN 201. The Knights of the Silver Shield 223 JEAN INGELOW 202. The Prince's Dream 227 FRANK R. STOCKTON 203. Old Pipes and the Dryad 233 JOHN RUSKIN 204. The King of the Golden River 245 SECTION V FABLES AND SYMBOLIC STORIES _Bibliography_ 262 _Introductory_ 263 ÆSOP 205. The Shepherd's Boy 266 206. The Lion and the Mouse 266 207. The Crow and the Pitcher 266 208. The Frog and the Ox 267 209. The Frogs Desiring a King 267 210. The Field Mouse and the Town Mouse 268 CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI 211. The City Mouse and the Garden Mouse 268 HORACE 212. The Country Mouse and the Town Mouse 268 ÆSOP 213. Androcles 269 THOMAS DAY 214. Androcles and the Lion 270 ÆSOP 215. The Wind and the Sun 272 216. The Goose with the Golden Eggs 272 LA FONTAINE 217. The Hen with the Golden Eggs 272 ÆSOP 218. The Wolf in Sheep's Clothing 273 219. The Hare and the Tortoise 273 220. The Miller, His Son, and Their Ass 274 221. The Travelers and the Bear 274 222. The Lark and Her Young Ones 275 223. The Old Man and His Sons 275 224. The Fox and the Grapes 276 225. The Widow and the Hen 276 226. The Kid and the Wolf 276 227. The Man and the Satyr 276 228. The Dog and the Shadow 276 229. The Swallow and the Raven 276 230. Mercury and the Woodman 276 231. The Mice in Council 277 232. The Mountebank and Countryman 277 233. The Milkmaid and Her Pail 278 LA FONTAINE 234. The Dairywoman and the Pot of Milk 278 From "THE ARABIAN NIGHTS" 235. The Story of Alnaschar 279 BIDPAI (Indian Fables) 236. The Camel and the Pig 280 237. The Ass in the Lion's Skin 281 238. The Talkative Tortoise 282 239. A Lion Tricked by a Rabbit 283 MARIE DE FRANCE 240. The Cock and the Fox 284 LA FONTAINE 241. The Grasshopper and the Ant 284 242. The Cock, the Cat, and the Young Mouse 285 JOHN GAY 243. The Hare with Many Friends 286 TOMAS YRIARTE 244. The Musical Ass 287 IVAN KRYLOV 245. The Swan, the Pike, and the Crab 287 From the BIBLE 246. The Bramble Is Made King 288 247. The Good Samaritan 289 248. The Prodigal Son 289 HENRY WARD BEECHER 249. The Anxious Leaf 290 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 250. The Whistle 291 251. The Ephemera 292 JOSEPH ADDISON 252. The Vision of Mirzah 294 JANE TAYLOR 253. The Discontented Pendulum 297 LEO TOLSTOI 254. Croesus and Solon 299 SECTION VI MYTHS _Bibliography_ 302 _Introductory_ 303 GREEK AND ROMAN: GRACE H. KUPFER 255. A Story of the Springtime 306 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE 256. The Paradise of Children 309 257. The Miraculous Pitcher 319 R. E. FRANCILLON 258. The Narcissus 330 259. The Apple of Discord 332 JOSEPHINE P. PEABODY 260. Icarus and Daedalus 335 261. Admetus and the Shepherd 337 THOMAS BULFINCH 262. Midas 338 CHARLES MILLS GAYLEY 263. Phaëthon 340 NORSE: THOMAS BULFINCH 264. Thor's Visit to Jötunheim 343 HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE 265. Odin's Search for Wisdom 348 ETHEL M. WILMOT-BUXTON 266. How the Fenris Wolf was Chained 351 ANNA AND ELIZA KEARY 267. Frey 354 HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE 268. The Death of Balder 360 SECTION VII POETRY _Bibliography_ 368 _Introductory_ 369 ELIZA LEE FOLLEN 269. The Three Little Kittens 371 270. The Moon 371 271. Runaway Brook 372 272. Ding Dong! Ding Dong! 372 ELIZABETH PRENTISS 273. The Little Kitty 372 SARA J. HALE 274. Mary Had a Little Lamb 372 THEODORE TILTON 275. Baby Bye 373 LUCY LARCOM 276. The Brown Thrush 374 LYDIA MARIA CHILD 277. Thanksgiving Day 375 278. Who Stole the Bird's Nest 375 "SUSAN COOLIDGE" 279. How the Leaves Came Down 377 PHOEBE CARY 280. They Didn't Think 377 281. The Leak in the Dike 378 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 282. Whole Duty of Children 381 283. The Cow 381 284. Time to Rise 381 285. Rain 381 286. A Good Play 382 287. The Lamplighter 382 288. The Land of Nod 382 289. The Land of Story-Books 382 290. My Bed Is a Boat 383 291. My Shadow 383 292. The Swing 383 293. Where Go the Boats 384 294. The Wind 384 295. Windy Nights 384 FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN 296. Spinning Top 384 297. Flying Kite 385 298. King Bell 385 299. Daisies 385 EUGENE FIELD 300. Wynken, Blynken, and Nod 385 301. The Sugar-Plum Tree 386 302. The Duel 387 JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY 303. The Treasures of the Wise Man 387 304. The Circus-Day Parade 388 305. The Raggedy Man 389 JAMES HOGG 306. A Boy's Song 389 MARY HOWITT 307. The Spider and the Fly 390 WILLIAM HOWITT 308. The Wind in a Frolic 391 ANN TAYLOR 309. The Cow 392 310. Meddlesome Matty 392 JANE TAYLOR 311. "I Like Little Pussy" 393 312. The Star 394 CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI 313. Seldom or Never 394 314. An Emerald Is as Green as Grass 394 315. Boats Sail on the Rivers 394 316. A Diamond or a Coal? 395 317. The Swallow 395 318. Who Has Seen the Wind? 395 319. Milking Time 395 WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS 320. The Peddler's Caravan 395 321. The Wonderful World 396 RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES 322. Good-Night and Good-Morning 396 WILLIAM ROSCOE 323. The Butterfly's Ball 397 AUTHOR UNKNOWN 324. Can You? 398 ROBERT BROWNING 325. Pippa's Song 399 CHARLES MACKAY 326. Little and Great 399 FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS 327. Casabianca 399 WILLIAM BLAKE 328. Three Things to Remember 400 329. The Lamb 401 330. The Shepherd 401 331. The Tiger 401 332. The Piper 401 ELIZA COOK 333. Try Again 402 EDWARD LEAR 334. The Owl and the Pussy-Cat 403 335. The Table and the Chair 404 336. The Pobble Who Has No Toes 404 "LEWIS CARROLL" 337. The Walrus and the Carpenter 405 338. A Strange Wild Song 406 ISAAC WATTS 339. Against Idleness and Mischief 407 340. Famous Passages from Dr. Watts 408 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 341. The Skeleton in Armor 408 342. The Day Is Done 410 343. A Psalm of Life 411 CHARLES KINGSLEY 344. The Three Fishers 412 345. The Sands of Dee 412 ALFRED TENNYSON 346. "What Does Little Birdie Say?" 413 347. Sweet and Low 413 348. The Poet's Song 413 349. Crossing the Bar 414 LEIGH HUNT 350. Abou Ben Adhem 414 JOAQUIN MILLER 351. For Those Who Fail 415 EDGAR ALLAN POE 352. Eldorado 415 GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON 353. The Destruction of Sennacherib 416 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT 354. To a Waterfowl 416 355. The Planting of the Apple-Tree 417 THOMAS EDWARD BROWN 356. My Garden 418 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 357. Daffodils 419 358. The Solitary Reaper 419 CAROLINE ELIZABETH NORTON 359. The Arab to His Favorite Steed 420 ROBERT SOUTHEY 360. The Inchcape Rock 421 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 361. Over Hill, Over Dale 423 362. A Fairy Scene in a Wood 423 RALPH WALDO EMERSON 363. Fable 424 364. Concord Hymn 424 SIR WALTER SCOTT 365. Breathes There the Man 424 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 366. Old Ironsides 425 WILLIAM COLLINS 367. How Sleep the Brave 425 AUTHOR UNKNOWN 368. The Ballad of Nathan Hale 425 SIR FRANCIS HASTINGS DOYLE 369. The Red Thread of Honor 427 RUDYARD KIPLING 370. Recessional 428 WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY 371. Invictus 429 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 372. The Falcon 429 373. The Shepherd of King Admetus 430 SIR WILLIAM SCHENCK GILBERT 374. The Yarn of the Nancy Bell 430 JOHN TOWNSEND TROWBRIDGE 375. Darius Green and His Flying Machine 432 WILLIAM ROBERT SPENCER 376. Beth Gêlert 436 AUTHOR UNKNOWN 377. King John and the Abbot of Canterbury 437 SECTION VIII REALISTIC STORIES _Bibliography_ 442 _Introductory_ 443 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 378. The Renowned History of Little Goody Two-Shoes 445 DR. JOHN AIKIN AND MRS. LETITIA BARBAULD 379. Eyes, and No Eyes 451 THOMAS DAY 380. The Good-Natured Little Boy 456 MARIA EDGEWORTH 381. Waste Not, Want Not 458 JULIANA HORATIA EWING 382. Jackanapes 478 HENRY SEIDEL CANBY 383. Betty's Ride 496 CHARLES MAJOR 384. The Big Bear 500 "O. HENRY" 385. The Gift of the Magi 505 SECTION IX NATURE LITERATURE _Bibliography_ 510 _Introductory_ 511 BEATRIX POTTER 386. The Tale of Peter Rabbit 513 THORNTON WALDO BURGESS 387. Johnny Chuck Finds the Best Thing in the World 514 ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE 388. Mr. 'Possum's Sick Spell 516 DALLAS LORE SHARP 389. Wild Life in the Farm-Yard 520 VERNON L. KELLOGG 390. The Vendetta 524 SEWELL FORD 391. Pasha, the Son of Selim 527 "OUIDA" (LOUISA DE LA RAMÉE) 392. Moufflou 534 OLIVE THORNE MILLER 393. Bird Habits: I. Where He Sleeps II. His Travels 548 ERNEST THOMPSON SETON 394. The Poacher and the Silver Fox 551 DAVID STARR JORDAN 395. The Story of a Salmon 556 RUDYARD KIPLING 396. Moti Guj--Mutineer 562 CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS 397. Last Bull 566 SECTION X ROMANCE CYCLES AND LEGEND _Bibliography_ 576 _Introductory_ 577 From ARABIAN NIGHTS 398. Ali Baba, and the Forty Thieves 579 "FELIX SUMMERLEY" Reynard the Fox 399. How Bruin the Bear Sped with Reynard the Fox 586 400. The Battle Between the Fox and the Wolf 591 SIR THOMAS MALORY King Arthur and His Round Table 401. How Arthur Became King 594 402. A Tourney with the French 597 403. Adventures of Arthur 598 MAUDE RADFORD WARREN 404. Arthur and Sir Accalon 603 CERVANTES-SAAVEDRA, MIGUEL DE 405-411. Stories from _Don Quixote_ I. Dreams and Shadows 606 II. Preparing for the Quest 608 III. The Quest Begins 610 IV. The Knightly Vigil 613 V. On Honor's Field 615 VI. The Return Home 617 VII. The Battle with the Windmills 618 HORACE E. SCUDDER 412. The Proud King 620 EVA MARCH TAPPAN 413. Robin and the Merry Little Old Woman 623 AUTHOR UNKNOWN 414. Allen-a-Dale 628 SECTION XI BIOGRAPHY AND HERO STORIES _Bibliography_ 632 _Introductory_ 633 ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS 415. How Columbus Got His Ships 635 HORACE E. SCUDDER 416. The Boyhood of Washington 642 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 417. The Autobiography 645 HELEN NICOLAY 418. Lincoln's Early Days 655 ANNA HOWARD SHAW 419. In the Western Wilderness 662 CHARLOTTE M. YONGE 420. The Pass of Thermopylae 671 SECTION XII HOME READING LIST AND GENERAL INDEX Home Reading Lists by Grades 679 General Index 687 SECTION I PREFACE AND GENERAL INTRODUCTION SELECTED GENERAL BIBLIOGRAPHY I. GENERAL COLLECTIONS OF CHILDREN'S LITERATURE Tappan, Eva March, _The Children's Hour_. 10 vols. Neilson, William Patten, and others, _The Junior Classics_. 10 vols. Sylvester, Charles H. , _Journeys through Bookland_. 10 vols. Aldrich, Thomas Bailey, and others, _The Young Folks' Library_. 30 vols. Mabie, Hamilton Wright, _After School Library_. 12 vols. Scudder, Horace E. , _The Children's Book_. [Best single-volume collection for early grades. ] Barnes, Walter, _Types of Children's Literature_. II. HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENT Darton, F. J. Harvey, "Children's Books, " in _Cambridge History of English Literature_, Vol. XI, chap. Xvi. [Best brief account of development in England. Elaborate bibliography. ] Tassin, Algernon, "Books for Children, " in _Cambridge History of American Literature_, Vol. II, chap. Vii. [Best account of American development. Extended bibliography. ] Field, Mrs. E. M. , _The Child and His Book_. The history and progress of children's literature in England. [Stops with 1826. ] Moses, Montrose J. , _Children's Books and Reading_. [Deals with both English and American side. Book-lists and bibliographies. ] Ashton, John, _Chapbooks of the Eighteenth Century_. Halsey, Rosalie V. , _Forgotten Books of the American Nursery_. Welsh, Charles, _A Bookseller of the Last Century_. [John Newbery. ] "Godfrey, Elizabeth, " _English Children in the Olden Time_. Earle, Florence Morse, _Child Life in Colonial Days_. III. GUIDES IN TEACHING 1. SPECIFIC PEDAGOGY Barnes, Walter, _English in the Country School_. Carpenter, G. R. , Baker, F. T. , and Scott, F. N. , _The Teaching of English_. [Pp. 155-187, "Literature in the Elementary Schools, " by Professor Baker. ] Chubb, Percival, _The Teaching of English_. Cox, John Harrington, _Literature in the Common School_. Barron, Julia S. , Bacon, Corinne, and Dana, J. C. , _Course of Study for Normal School Pupils on Literature for Children_. [A syllabus. ] Hosic, James Fleming, _The Elementary Course in English_. MacClintock, Porter Lander, _Literature in the Elementary School_. McMurry, Charles A. , _Special Method in Reading in the Grades_. Welch, John S. , _Literature in the School: Aims, Methods, and Interpretations_. 2. MORE GENERAL AND INSPIRATIONAL Bates, Arlo, _Talks on the Teaching of Literature_. Bennett, Arnold, _Literary Taste and How to Form It_. Colby, J. Rose, _Literature and Life in School_. Kerfoot, J. B. , _How to Read_. Lee, Gerald Stanley, _The Child and the Book_. Quiller-Couch, Sir Arthur, _On the Art of Reading_. [Children's Literature. ] Scudder, Horace E. , _Literature in the Schools_. Smith, C. Alphonso, _What Can Literature Do for Me?_ Woodberry, George E. , _The Appreciation of Literature_. _The Heart of Man. _ 3. GUIDES TO BOOKS FOR CHILDREN Arnold, Gertrude W. , _A Mother's List of Books for Children_. Field, Walter Taylor, _Fingerposts to Children's Reading_. Hunt, Clara W. , _What Shall We Read to the Children?_ Lowe, Orton, _Literature for Children_. Macy, John, _A Child's Guide to Reading_. Moore, Annie Carroll, _Roads to Childhood_. Olcott, Frances Jenkins, _The Children's Reading_. _One Thousand Good Books for Children. _ [Classified and graded list prepared by National Congress of Mothers' Literature Committee, Alice M. Jordan, Chairman. Issued by U. S. Bureau of Education, Washington, D. C. , as Home Education Circular No. 1. ] Stevens, David Harrison, _The Home Guide to Good Reading_. IV. BOOKS ON STORY-TELLING Allison, S. B. , and Perdue, H. A. , _The Story in Primary Education_. Bailey, Carolyn Sherman, _For the Story-Teller_. Bryant, Sarah Cone, _How to Tell Stories to Children_. _Stories to Tell to Children. _ [Introduction. ] Cather, Katherine D. , _Educating by Story-Telling_. Cowles, Julia D. , _The Art of Story-Telling_. Cross, Allen, and Statler, Nellie M. , _Story-Telling for Upper Grades_. Forbush, William B. , _Manual of Stories_. Horne, H. H. , _Story-Telling, Questioning, and Studying_. Keyes, Angela M. , _Stories and Story-Telling_. Kready, Laura F. , _A Study of Fairy Tales_. [Chap. Iii, "The Telling of Fairy Tales. "] Lindsay, Maud, _The Story-Teller for Little Children_. Lyman, Edna, _Story Telling: What to Tell and How to Tell It_. McMurry, Charles A. , _Special Method in Reading in the Grades_. Moore, Annie C. , Article "Story-Telling, " _Cyclopedia of Education_. [Ed. Monroe. ] Partridge, Emelyn N. , and George E. , _Story-Telling in the School and Home_. Shedlock, Marie L. , _The Art of the Story-Teller_. St. John, Edward Porter, _Stories and Story-Telling in Moral and Religious Education_. Wiltse, Sara E. , _The Place of the Story in Early Education_. Wyche, Richard Thomas, _Some Great Stories and How to Tell Them_. V. ON DRAMATIZATION Briggs, T. H. , and Coffman, L. D. , _Reading in Public Schools_. [Chap. X, "Dramatic Reading, " and chap. Xxiii, "Dramatics. "] Curtis, Elnora W. , _The Dramatic Instinct in Education_. Finlay-Johnson, Harriet, _The Dramatic Method of Teaching_. Gesell, Arnold L. , and Beatrice C. , _The Normal Child and Primary Education_. [Chapter on "Dramatic Expression. "] Herts, Alice M. , _The Children's Educational Theatre_. Nixon, Lillian E. , _Fairy Tales a Child Can Read and Act_. VI. THE BIBLE AS LITERATURE FOR CHILDREN Moulton, Richard Green, _A Short Introduction to the Literature of the Bible_. The simplest and best discussion for teachers of the Bible as literature. The books that follow are good sources for story material from the Bible. Baldwin, James, _Old Stories from the East_. Hodges, George, _The Garden of Eden_. _The Castle of Zion. _ _When the King Came. _ Houghton, Louise Seymour, _Telling Bible Stories_. Moulton, Richard Green, _Bible Stories: Old Testament_. _Bible Stories: New Testament. _ [Two volumes of _The Modern Reader's Bible for Children_. The only variations from the text are by omissions. ] Olcott, Frances Jenkins, _Bible Stories to Read and Tell_. Smith, Nora Archibald, _Old, Old Tales from the Old, Old Book_. Stewart, Mary, "_Tell Me a True Story_. " VII. SOME INTERPRETATIONS OF CHILDHOOD Aldrich, Thomas Bailey, _The Story of a Bad Boy_. Du Bois, Patterson, _Beckonings from Little Hands_. Gilson, Roy Rolfe, _In the Morning Glow_. Grahame, Kenneth, _Dream Days_. _The Golden Age_. Howells, William Dean, _A Boy's Town_. Kelly, Myra, _Little Citizens_. Larcom, Lucy, _A New England Girlhood_. Loti, Pierre, _The Story of a Child_. Martin, George Madden, _Emmy Lou, Her Book and Heart_. Masters, Edgar Lee, _Mitch Miller_. Pater, Walter, _The Child in the House_. Shute, Henry A. , _The Real Diary of a Real Boy_. Smith, William Hawley, _The Evolution of Dodd_. Stuart, Ruth McEnery, _Sonny_. Walpole, Hugh, _Jeremy_. Warner, Charles Dudley, _On Being a Boy_. White, William Allen, _The Court of Boyville_. VIII. SOCIAL AND PSYCHOLOGICAL BACKGROUND Addams, Jane, _Youth and Our City Streets_. Adler, Felix, _The Moral Instruction of Children_. Antin, Mary, _The Promised Land_. Cabot, Ella Lyman, _The Seven Ages of Childhood_. Dawson, George E. , _The Child and His Religion_. Engleman, J. O. , _Moral Education_. Griggs, Edward Howard, _Moral Education_. Hall, G. Stanley, _Youth_. Henderson, C. Hanford, _Education and the Larger Life_. Hoyt, Franklin Chase, _Quicksands of Youth_. Oppenheim, Nathan, _The Development of the Child_. Puffer, J. Adams, _The Boy and His Gang_. CHILDREN'S LITERATURE SECTION I. PREFACE AND GENERAL INTRODUCTION THE PREFACE This book is primarily a handbook for teachers in the grades and forstudents preparing to teach in the grades. Although it does not ignoreproblems of grading and presentation, the chief purpose is to acquaintteachers and prospective teachers with standard literature of thevarious kinds suitable for use in the classroom and to give theminformation regarding books and authors to aid them in directing theselection of books by and for children. In discussing the early training of children in literature with largeclasses of young people preparing for teaching in the grades, thecompilers found themselves face to face with two difficulties. In thefirst place, only a limited number of these prospective teachers were inany real sense acquainted with what may be called the basic traditionalmaterial. Rhymes, fables, myths, stories were so vaguely andindistinctly held in mind that they were practically of no great value. It was therefore not possible to assume much real acquaintance with thematerial needed for use with children, and the securing of such anacquaintance seemed the first essential. After all is said, a discussionof ways and means must follow such a mastery of basic material. In the second place, there was the difficulty of finding in any compactform a body of material sufficient in extent and wide enough in itsrange to serve as a satisfactory basis for such a course. No doubt theideal way would be to send the student to the many authoritative volumescovering the various fields dealt with in this collection. But withlarge classes and a limited amount of time such a plan was hardlypracticable. The young teacher cannot be much of a specialist in any ofthe various fields of knowledge with the elements of which he isexpected to acquaint children. The principles of economy demand that thebrief courses which specifically prepare for teaching should be such aswill make the work in the schoolroom most helpful and least wastefulfrom the very beginning. Hence this attempt to collect in one volumewhat may somewhat roughly be spoken of as material for a minimum basiccourse in Children's Literature. The important thing about this book, then, is the actual literarymaterial included in it. The notes and suggestions scattered throughoutare aimed to direct attention to this material either in the way ofpointing out the sources of it, or helping in the understanding andappreciation of it, or suggesting some ways of presenting it mosteffectively to children. In the case of folk material, an effort has been made to presentreliable versions of the stories used. Many of the folk stories, forinstance, appear in dozens of collections and in dozens of forms, according to the artistic or pedagogic biases of the various compilers. As a rule the most accessible stories are found in versions writtendown to the supposed needs of children, and intended to be read by thechildren themselves. Even if we grant the teacher the right to makeextensive modifications, it is still reasonable to insist that somecorrect traditional form be used as the starting point. Such a planinsures a mastery of one's material. The sources of the versions used inthis text are pointed out in order that teachers who wish to do so mayextend their acquaintance to other folk material by referring to thevarious collections mentioned. Such a book as this must necessarily be selective. No doubt omissionswill be noted of poems or stories that many teachers deem indispensable. Others will find selections included that to their minds arequestionable. The editors can only plead in extenuation that they haveincluded what they have found by experience to offer a sound basis fordiscussing with training classes the nature of this basic material andthe form in which it should be presented to children. To accomplishthese ends it has sometimes seemed well to give parallel versions, andoccasionally to give a version that will necessitate the discussion ofsuch subjects as the use of dialect, the inclusion of items of terror orhorror, and the soundness of the ethical appeal. These various problemsare indicated in the notes accompanying individual selections. The editorial apparatus does not constitute a treatise on literarycriticism, or a manual of mythology or folklore, or a "pedagogy" ofchildren's literature as such, or anything like an exhaustivebibliography of the fields of study touched upon. It aims at the verymodest purpose of immediate and practical utility. It hopes to fill aplace as a sort of first aid for the inexperienced teacher, and as soonas the teacher gets some real grasp of the elements of the problem thisbook must yield to the more elaborate and well-knit discussions ofspecialists in the various subjects treated. The bibliographicalreferences throughout are intended to offer help in this forward step. These bibliographies are, in all cases, frankly selective. As a rulemost of the books mentioned are books now in print. In thebibliographies connected with the sections of traditional material someof the more important works in the field of scholarship are named ineach case for the benefit of those who may be working where such booksare available in institutional or public libraries. Titles of books areprinted in italics, while titles of poems, separate stories, andselections are printed in roman type inclosed in quotation marks. The grouping of material is in no sense a hard and fast one. Those whowork in literary fields understand the pitfalls that beset one whoattempts such a classification. Only a general grouping under headingsused in the ordinary popular sense has been made. Fine distinctions arebeside the mark in such a book as this. Popular literature was not madefor classification, but for higher purposes, and anything that drawsattention from the pleasure-giving and spirit-invigorating qualities ofthe literature itself should be avoided. Hence, the classificationsadopted are as simple and unobtrusive as possible. Finally, the editors make no pretense to original scholarship. They havenot attempted to extend the limits of human knowledge, but to point outpleasant paths leading to the limitless domains of literature. They havetried to reflect accurately the best practices and theories, or to pointout how teachers may get at the best. Their obligations to others aretoo extended to be noted in a preface, but will be apparent on everypage of the text. Their most important lessons have come from thereactions secured from hundreds of teachers who have been under theirtuition. Copyright obligations are indicated in connection with the selectionsused. GENERAL INTRODUCTION 1. LITERATURE FOR CHILDREN _The beginnings. _ During the eighteenth century the peoples of Europeand America turned their attention in a remarkable way to aconsideration of the worth and rights of the individual. In America thisso-called democratic movement culminated in the Declaration ofIndependence in 1776. The most dramatic manifestation of the movement inEurope was the French Revolution of 1789, but every country of Europewas thrilled and changed by the new thought. Every important democraticmovement leads to an awakened interest in the welfare of children, forthey are among the weak and helpless. This great movement of theeighteenth century brought such a remarkable change of thought regardingchildren as to mark the beginning of a new kind of literature, known asliterature for children. Today we think of Andersen, Stevenson, Mrs. Ewing, and scores of othersas writers of literature for children. Such writers did not exist beforethe democratic movement of the eighteenth century. It is true that a fewshort books and articles had been written for children as early as thefifteenth century, but they were written to teach children to beobedient and respectful to parents and masters or to instruct them inthe customs of the church--they were not written primarily to entertainchildren and give them pleasure. Within the last century and a half, too, many authors have collected and retold for children innumerabletraditional stories from all parts of the earth--traditional fairystories, romantic stories of the Middle Ages, legends, and myths. _The child's inheritance. _ As has been indicated, children's literatureis of two kinds: first, the traditional kind that grew up among the folkof long ago in the forms of rhyme, myth, fairy tale, fable, legend, andromantic hero story; and, second, the kind that has been produced inmodern times by individual authors. The first, the traditional kind, wasproduced by early civilization and by the childlike peasantry of longago. The best of the stories produced by the childhood of the race havebeen bequeathed to the children of today, and to deprive children of thepleasure they would get from this inheritance of folklore seems asunjust as to deprive them of traditional games, which also help to makethe first years of a person's life, the period of childhood, the periodof imaginative play. The second kind of children's literature, thatproduced in modern times by individual authors, has likewise beenbequeathed to children. Some of it is so new that its worth has not beendetermined, but some of it has passed the test of the classics. The bestof both kinds is as priceless as is the classical literature for adults. The world would not sell Shakespeare; yet one may well doubt thatShakespeare is worth as much to humanity as is Mother Goose. To evaluatetruly the worth of such classics is impossible; but we may be assuredthat the child who has learned to appreciate the pleasures and thebeauties of Mother Goose is the one most likely to appreciate thepleasures and the beauties of Shakespeare when the proper time comes. The true purpose of education is to bring the child into hisinheritance. For many years educators have talked about the use ofliterature _in_ the grades as one means of accomplishing this purpose. The results of attempts to teach literature in the grades have sometimesbeen disappointing because often the literature used has not been _for_the grades; that is, it has not been children's literature. In othercases the attempts have failed because the literature has not beenpresented as literature--it has, for example, been presented as readinglessons or composition assignments. Students preparing to teach in thegrades have been studying textbooks from which literature for childrenhas been excluded, regardless of its artistic worth. Consequently manyteachers have not been prepared to teach literature in the grades. Oftenthey have assumed that the reading lesson would develop in the pupil anappreciation of good literature, not realizing that the reading lessonmay cause pupils to dislike literature, especially poetry, unless it issupplemented by appropriate work in children's literature. If thestudent reads thoughtfully the literary selections in the followingsections of this book, he probably will realize that children'sliterature is also literature for adults, and that it is not only thechild's inheritance, but also the inheritance of humanity. The fact that literature for children is likely to have a stronginterest for adults is strikingly suggested in a few sentences in JohnMacy's _A Child's Guide to Reading_: When "juveniles" are really good, parents read them after children have gone to bed. I do not know whether _Tom Brown at Rugby_ is catalogued by the careful librarian as a book for boys, but I am sure it is a book for men. I dare say that a good many pairs of eyes that have passed over the pages of Mr. John T. Trowbridge and Elijah Kellogg and Louisa M. Alcott have been old enough to wear spectacles. And if Mrs. Kate Douglas Wiggin ever thought that in _Timothy's Quest_ and _Rebecca_ she was writing books especially for the young, adult readers have long since claimed her for their own. I have enjoyed Mr. A. S. Pier's tales of the boys at St. Timothy's, though he planned them for younger readers. We are told on good authority that _St. Nicholas_ and _The Youth's Companion_ appear in households where there are no children, and they give a considerable portion of their space to serial stories written for young people. Between good "juveniles" and good books for grown persons there is not much essential difference. 2. LITERATURE IN THE GRADES _Reading and literature distinguished. _ A country school-teacher onceabruptly stopped the routine of daily work and, standing beside herdesk, told the story of the maid who counted her chickens before theywere hatched. One of her pupils, who is now a man, remembers vividly howthe incident impressed him. Although he was in the second grade, thatwas the first time he had known a teacher to stop regular school work totell a story. Immediately the teacher was transformed. She had beenmerely a teacher, one of those respected, awe-inspiring creatures whosebusiness it is to make the school mill go; but the magic of her storyestablished the relation of friendship between teacher and pupil. Shewas no longer merely a teacher. If the story had been read as a part ofthe reading lesson, it would not have impressed the pupil greatly. Itwas impressive because it was presented as literature. A clear distinction should be made between reading and literature, especially in the primary grades. In the work of the reading course thepupil should take the lead, being guided by the teacher. If the pupil isto progress, he must master the mechanics of reading--he must learn topronounce printed words and to get the meaning of printed sentences andparagraphs. The course in reading requires patient work on the part ofthe pupil, just as the course in arithmetic does, and the chief pleasurethat the primary pupil can derive from the work is a consciousness ofenlarged power and of success in accomplishing what is undertaken. In the work with literature, however, the teacher should take the lead. She should open to the pupils the magic treasure house of the world'sbest story and song. The literature period of the day should be thepupil's imaginative play period, bringing relief from the tension oftired nerves. The teacher who makes the study of literature a mechanicalgrind instead of a joyous exercise of imagination misses at least two ofher greatest opportunities as a teacher. First, by failing to cultivatein her pupils an appreciation of good literature, she misses anopportunity to make the lives of her pupils brighter and happier. Second, by failing to realize that the person with a story and a song iseverybody's friend, she misses an opportunity to win the friendship, admiration, and love of her pupils. The inexperienced teacher who iswell-nigh distracted in her efforts to guide forty restless, disorderlypupils through the program of a day's work might charm half her troublesaway by the magic of a simple story or by the music and imagery of ajuvenile poem. Her story or poem would do more than remove the cause ofdisorder by giving the pupils relaxation from nerve-straining work: itwould help to establish that first essential to all true success inteaching--a relation of friendship between pupils and teacher. _Culture through literature. _ He was a wise educator who said, "The boywho has access to good books and who has learned to make them his closefriends is beyond the power of evil. " Literature in the grades, inaddition to furnishing intellectual recreation, should so cultivate inthe pupil the power of literary appreciation that he will make goodbooks his close friends. The child who has heard good music from infancyis not likely to be attracted by popular ragtime. The boy who has beentrained in habits of courtesy, industry, and pure thinking in his homelife, and school life is not likely to find pleasure in the rudeness, idleness, and vulgarity of the village poolroom. The pupil who is taughtto appreciate the beautiful, the true, and the good in standardliterature is not likely to find pleasure in reading the melodramaticand sentimental trash that now has prominence of place and space in manybook stores and in some public libraries. It is the duty of the teacher, and it should be her pleasure, to cultivate in her pupils such a tastefor good literature as will lead them to choose the good and reject thebad, a taste that will insure for them the culture that good literaturegives. _Selection of material. _ In choosing selections of literary worth topresent to her pupils, the teacher should keep in mind the pupil's stageof mental development and she should not forget that the study ofliterature should give pleasure. Often pupils do not like what moralwriters think they should like, and usually the pupils are right. Goodliterature is sincere and is true in its appeal to the fundamentalemotions of humanity, and an obvious attempt to teach a moral theory atthe expense of truth is no more to be tolerated in literature forchildren than in literature for adults. The childhood of the race hasproduced much literature with a true appeal to the human heart, in theform of fable, fairy story, myth, and hero story. Most of thisliterature appeals strongly to the child of today. For several hundredyears the nursery rhymes of "Mother Goose" have delighted children withtheir melody, humor, and imagery. As literature for the kindergarten andfirst grade, they have not often been excelled by modern writers. Thetask of selecting suitable material from the many poems, stories, andbooks written for children in recent years is difficult, but if theteacher has a keen appreciation of good literature and is guided by thelikes and dislikes of her pupils, she probably will not go far astray. _Supplemental reading. _ If the teacher examines the juvenile booksoffered for sale by the book dealers of her town or city, she probablywill discover that most of them are trash not fit to be read by anyone, and she will realize the importance of directing parents in theselection of gift books for children. A good way to get better booksinto the book stores and into the hands of children is to give thepupils a list of good books, with the suggestion that they ask theirparents to buy one of them the next time a book is to be bought as apresent. Such lists of books also will improve the standard of books inthe town library, for librarians will be quick to realize the importanceof supplying standard literature if there is a demand for it. 3. STORY-TELLING AND DRAMATIZATION _Story-telling. _ Most stories are much more effective when well toldthan they are when read, just as most lectures and sermons are mosteffective when delivered without manuscript. To explain just why thestory well told is superior to the story read might not be easy, butmuch of the superiority probably comes from the freedom of the "talkstyle" and the more appropriate use of inflection and emphasis. Then, too, the story-teller can look at her audience and is free to add adescriptive word or phrase occasionally to produce vividness ofimpression. Some stories, of course, are so constructed that they mustfollow closely the diction of the original form. "Henny-Penny" andKipling's _Just-So Stories_ are of this type. Such stories should beread. Most stories, however, are most effective when well told. Theteacher, especially the teacher of one of the primary grades, should notconsider herself prepared to teach literature until she has gainedsomething of the art of story-telling. _Selection of stories. _ Never attempt to tell a story that you do notlike. You are not prepared to interest pupils in a story, howeverappropriate it otherwise may be, if you are not interested in ityourself. Try to choose stories adapted in structure and content to theage and experience of the children of your grade. For the first orsecond grade, choose a few simple fables, a few short, simple fairytales, and a few short, simple nature stories, such as "Peter Rabbit, ""How Johnny Chuck Finds the Best Thing in the World, " and "Mr. 'Possum'sSick Spell. " Remember that a story for the first or second grade shouldbe short. _Two principles. _ Learn to apply readily the following principles ofmethod: First, use the past tense in telling a story except in directquotation. The rules of grammar require this, and it is an aid toclearness and effectiveness. For example, do not say, "So he goes" or"Then he says"; but say, "So he went" or "Then he said" (or, forvariety, _replied_, _growled_, _mumbled_, etc. ). Second, use directdiscourse (the exact words of the characters) rather than indirectdiscourse. For example, do not say, "The Troll asked who was trippingover his bridge"; but say, "'WHO'S THAT tripping over my bridge?' roaredthe Troll. " Direct discourse always gives life and vividness to a story. _Preparation and presentation. _ When you have selected a suitable story, read it carefully several times to learn the essential details and theorder in which they should come. Keep in mind the fact that you are touse the past tense and direct discourse. If the story is a fable, youprobably will see that you should add much conversation and descriptionnot in the text. A little description of the witch, giant, fairy, orcastle may give vividness to your story. If the story is a long fairytale, you may see that many details may be omitted. If the story is asconcise and dramatic as is the version of "The Three Billy-Goats Gruff"in this book, it may be suitable for presentation without any changes. When you have the story clearly in mind as you wish to present it, tellit to the pupils several times, and then have some of them tell it. Your story, of course, should not be told in a lifeless monotone. Someparts should be told slowly, and others rapidly. In some parts the voiceshould be low and soft, while in other parts it should be loud and gruffor harsh. The words of the princess should not sound like those of theold witch or the soldier. The daintiness and grace of elves and fairiesshould be indicated in the delivery. _Corroborative opinion. _ The many books on the art of story-telling byskilled practitioners and the emphasis placed upon the great practicalvalue of story-telling by all those charged with the oversight of theeducation of children show conclusively that the story method inteaching is having its grand renascence. The English education minister, Mr. H. A. L. Fisher, speaking recently on the subject of "HistoryTeaching, " set forth admirably the general principles back of thisrevival: There is no difficulty about interesting children. The real difficulty is to bore them. Almost any tale will interest a child. It need not be well constructed or thrilling; it may be filled with the most unexciting and trivial incidents, but so long as it carries the mind along at all, it will interest a child. The hunger which intelligent children have for stories is almost inexhaustible. They like to have their stories repeated, and insist that the characters should reappear over and over again, for they have an appetite for reality and a desire to fix these passing figments into the landscape of the real life with which they are surrounded. One of the great qualities in childhood which makes it apt for receiving historical impressions is just this capacity for giving body to the phantoms of the mind. The limits between the real and the legendary or miraculous which are drawn by the critical intelligence do not exist for the childish mind. . . . It would then be a great educational disaster if this valuable faculty in childhood were allowed to run to waste. There are certain years in the development of every normal intelligent child when the mind is full of image-making power and eager to make a friend or enemy of any god, hero, nymph, fairy, or servant maid who may come along. Then is the time when it is right and fitting to affect some introductions to the great characters of mythology and history; that is the age at which children will eagerly absorb what they can learn of Achilles and Orpheus, of King Arthur and his Knights, of Alexander and Christopher Columbus and the Duke of Wellington. I do not think it is necessary to obtrude any moralizing commentary when these great and vague images are first brought into the landscape of the child's intellectual experience. A little description, a few stories, a picture or two, will be enough to fix them in the memory and to give them body and shape together with the fairies and witches and pirate kings and buccaneering captains with whom we have all at one time been on such familiar terms. Let us then begin by teaching the past to small children by way of stories and pictures. _Dramatization. _ The play spirit that leads children to play lady, doctor, church, and school will also lead them to enjoy dramatizingstories, or "playing the stories, " as they call it. Some stories, ofcourse, are so lacking in action as to be not well suited fordramatization, and others have details of action, character, orsituation that may not well be represented in the schoolroom. Theteacher may be surprised, however, to see how ingenious her pupils arein overcoming difficulties after they have had a little assistance inplaying two or three stories. Unconsciously the pupil will get from thedramatization a training in oral English, reading, and literaryappreciation that can hardly be gained in any other way. When the pupils have learned a story thoroughly, they are ready to makeplans for playing it. The stage setting may be considered first, andhere the child's imagination can work wonders in arranging details. Theopening under the teacher's desk may become a dungeon, a cave, a cellar, or a well. If a two-story house is needed, it may be outlined on thefloor in the front part of the schoolroom, with a chalk-mark stairway, up which Goldilocks can walk to lie down on three coats--the three bedsin the bed-chamber of the three bears. The pupils can probably soon decide what characters are necessary, butmore time may be required to assign the parts. To play the part of aspider, bear, wolf, fairy, sheep, or butterfly does not seem difficultto a child who has entered into the spirit of the play. The most difficult part of dramatization may be the plan forconversation, especially if the text version of the story containslittle or no direct discourse. The pupils should know the general natureof the conversation and action before they begin to play the story, although they need not memorize the parts. Suppose that the fable "TheShepherd's Boy" is to be dramatized. The first part of the dramatizationmight be described about as follows: The shepherd boy, tending his flock of pupil-sheep in the pasture land at one side of the teacher's-desk-mountain, looked toward the pupil-desk-village at one side of the room and said quietly, "It certainly is lonely here. I believe I'll make those villagers think a wolf has come to eat the sheep. Then perhaps they'll come down here, and I'll have a little company and some excitement. " Then he jumped around frantically, waving his yardstick-shepherd's crook, and shouted to the villagers, "Wolf! Wolf!" The villagers came rushing down to the pasture land, asking excitedly, "Where's the wolf? Has he killed many of the sheep?" "Oh, oh, oh, " laughed the boy, "there wasn't any wolf. I certainly did fool you that time. " "I don't think that's very funny, " said one of the villagers. "Well, we might as well go back to our work, " said another. Then they went back to the village. After they had gone, the boy said, "I guess I'll try that joke again. " If the teacher puts much direct discourse in a story of this kind whenshe tells it to the pupils, the task of dramatizing will naturally bemade easier. Some stories lend themselves in the most natural manner todramatization. An interesting example of such a story may be found amongthe tales dealing with the Wise Men of Gotham. These Wise Men arereferred to in one of the best known of the Mother Goose rhymes. Itwould seem that the inhabitants of Gotham, in the reign of King John, had some reason of their own for pretending to be mad, and out of thisevent the legends took their rise. The number of fishermen may bechanged to seven or some other number to suit the number in the actinggroup. Here is the story: On a certain time there were twelve men of Gotham that went to fish, and some stood on dry land. And in going home, one said to the other "We have ventured wonderfully in wading. I pray God that none of us come home to be drowned. " "Nay, marry, " said the other, "let us see that, for there did twelve of us come out. " Then they counted themselves, and every one counted eleven. Said the one to the other, "There is one of us drowned. " They went back to the brook where they had been fishing and sought up and down for him that was drowned, making great lamentation. A stranger coming by asked what it was they sought for, and why they were sorrowful. "Oh!" said they, "this day we went to fish in the brook; twelve of us came together, and one is drowned. " Said the stranger, "Tell how many there be of you. " One of them, counting, said, "Eleven, " and again he did not count himself. "Well, " said the stranger, "what will you give me if I find the twelfth man?" "Sir, " said they, "all the money we have got. " "Give me the money, " said the stranger, and began with the first, and gave him a stroke over the shoulders with his whip, which made him groan, saying, "Here is one, " and so he served them all, and they all groaned at the matter. When he came to the last he paid him well, saying, "Here is the twelfth man. " "God's blessing on thy heart, " said they, "for thus finding our dear brother. " 4. COURSES OF STUDY As an aid to inexperienced teachers, it seems well to suggest in asummary how a selection of material suitable for each grade might bemade from the material of this book. The summary, however, should beregarded as suggestive in a general way only. No detailed outline of acourse of study in literature for the grades can be ideal for allschools because the pupils of a given grade in one school may be muchmore advanced in the knowledge of literature and the ability tounderstand and appreciate it than are the pupils of the same grade inanother school. Many literary selections, too, might appropriately betaught in almost any grade if the method of presentation in each casewere suited to the understanding of the pupils. _Robinson Crusoe_, forexample, may appropriately be told to second-grade pupils, or it may beread by fourth- or fifth-grade pupils, or it may be studied as fictionby eighth-grade pupils or university students. All poems of remarkableexcellence that are suitable for primary pupils are also suitable forpupils in the higher grades and for adults, and the same is true of manyprose selections. The summary that follows, then, is to be regarded as "first aid" to theuntrained, inexperienced teacher. The teacher's own personal likes anddislikes and her success in presenting various literary selectionsshould eventually lead her to modify any prescribed course of study. Ifa teacher of the sixth grade discovers that her pupils should rank onlysecond grade in knowledge and appreciation of literature, she may veryproperly begin with traditional fairy tales. Another outlined course ofstudy is given in Section XII of this book. _First, second, and third grades. _ Since pupils in the primary gradesread with difficulty if at all, the teacher should tell or read allselections presented as literature in these grades. No kind of prose is better suited for use in the primary grades thantraditional fairy tales. About half a dozen might well be presented ineach of the three grades. For the first grade, the simplest should bechosen, such as "The Old Woman and Her Pig, " "Teeny-Tiny, " "The Cat andthe Mouse, " "The Three Pigs, " "The Three Bears, " and "The Elves and theShoemaker. " As suitable stories for the second grade, we might choose"The Three Sillies, " "Little Red Riding-Hood, " "Cinderella, " "The ThreeBilly-Goats Gruff, " "The Straw Ox, " and "The Horned Women. " For thethird grade, somewhat longer and more complex stories might be chosen. About half a dozen fables might also be used appropriately in each ofthe primary grades. Simple Aesopic fables in prose seem best for thefirst two grades. More complex forms might be chosen for the thirdgrade, for example, "The Story of Alnaschar, " "The Good Samaritan, " "TheDiscontented Pendulum, " "The Musical Ass, " "The Swan, the Pike, and theCrab, " and "The Hen with the Golden Eggs. " Much of the nature literature of the primary grades may be in the formof verse, but some simple nature prose may be used successfully. Fromthe selections in this book, "Peter Rabbit" should be chosen for thefirst grade, while "Johnny Chuck, " and "Mr. 'Possum's Sick Spell" areappropriate for the second and third grades. The simplest of Andersen's _Fairy Tales_ may be used in the third grade, and perhaps in the second. Some suitable stories are "The RealPrincess, " "The Fir Tree, " "The Tinder Box, " "The Hardy Tin Soldier, "and "The Ugly Duckling. " The ideal verse for the first grade is nursery rhymes, which may bechosen from the first 135 selections of this book. These may besupplemented by such simple verse as "The Three Kittens, " "The Moon, ""Ding Dong, " "The Little Kitty, " "Baby Bye, " "Time to Rise, " "Rain, " "ILike Little Pussy, " and "The Star. " In the second and third grades, traditional verses from those following Number 135 in Section II may beused. The poems by Stevenson are ideal for these grades, and those byField, Sherman, and Christina Rossetti are good. In addition the teachermight select such poems as "The Brown Thrush, " and "Who Stole the Bird'sNest. " _Fourth, fifth, and sixth grades. _ Although pupils in these intermediategrades may be expected to read some library books, the teacher shouldread and tell stories frequently, for this is the surest way to developin the pupil a taste for good literature. The teacher should remember, too, that the story she recommends to the pupils as suitable readingshould be about two grades easier than those told or read by theteacher. Probably every poem presented as literature in these gradesshould be read or recited by the teacher because pupils are not likelyto get the charm of rhythm, melody, and rhyme if they do the reading. Pupils who dislike poetry are pupils who have not heard good poetry wellread. Myths are appropriate for each of the intermediate grades. Most teachersprefer for the fourth grade the simpler classical myths, such as "AStory of Springtime, " "The Miraculous Pitcher, " "The Narcissus, " and"The Apple of Discord. " In the fifth grade, the teacher may use the moredifficult classical myths, reserving the Norse myths for the sixthgrade. Modern fairy and fantastic stories are also appropriate for each ofthese grades. Suitable stories for the fourth grade are "The Four-LeavedClover, " "The Emperor's New Clothes, " "The Nightingale, " and "The Storyof Fairyfoot. " Stories appropriate for the fifth grade are "The HappyPrince, " "The Knights of the Silver Shield, " and "The Prince's Dream. "In the sixth grade, the teacher might use "Old Pipes and the Dryad" and"The King of the Golden River. " Two or three symbolic stories or fables in verse from the last part ofSection V should be used in each of these grades. Nature prose should appeal more and more to children as they advancefrom the fourth to the eighth grade. Many pupils in the fourth gradewill enjoy reading for themselves books by Burgess and Paine, whilefifth- and sixth-grade pupils will get much pleasure from the simplerbooks by Sharp, Seton, Long, Miller, and Roberts. In the intermediategrades, the teacher may read such stories as "Wild Life in the FarmYard, " "The Vendetta, " "Pasha, " "Moufflou, " and "Bird Habits. " Stories of various other kinds may be read by the teacher in theintermediate grades. "Goody Two-Shoes" and "Waste Not, Want Not, " aresuitable for the fourth grade. The biographies "How Columbus Got HisShips" and "Boyhood of Washington" are excellent in the fifth or sixthgrade as an introduction to history study, and the romance "Robin Hoodand the Merry Little Old Woman" may be used appropriately in any ofthese grades, especially if it is made to supplement a discussion of theNorman conquest. Most of the poems up to about No. 342, and a few beyond that, are withinthe range of the work for these grades. _Seventh and eighth grades. _ Although pupils in the seventh and eighthgrades may be expected to read simple narrative readily, the teachershould read to the pupils frequently. It cannot be too much emphasizedthat reading aloud to children is the surest way of developing anappreciation of the best in literature. In poetry especially this is asomewhat critical time, as the pupil is passing from the simpler andmore concrete verse to that which has a more prominent thought content. The persuasion of the reading voice smooths over many obstacles here. Outside the field of poetry, the teacher's work in these grades ismainly one of guidance and direction in getting the children and theright books in contact. Children at this period are likely to beomnivorous readers, ready for any book that comes their way, and the jobof keeping them supplied with titles of enough available good books fortheir needs is indeed one to tax all a teacher's knowledge andexperience. The demand for highly sensational stories on the part of pupils in theupper grades is so insistent that it constitutes a special problem forthe teacher. It is a perfectly natural demand, and no wise teacher willattempt to stifle it. Such an attempt would almost certainly result in amore or less surreptitious reading of a mass of unwholesome books whichhave come to be known as "dime novels. " Instead of trying to thwart thisdesire for the thrilling story the teacher should be ready to recommendbooks which have all the attractive adventure features of the "dimenovel, " and which have in addition sound artistic and ethical qualities. While many such books are mentioned in the bibliographies in the latterpart of this text, it has seemed well to bring together here a shortlist of those which librarians over the country have found particularlyfitted to serve as substitutes for the dime novel. Alden, W. L. , _The Moral Pirate_. Altsheler, Joseph A. , _The Young Trailers_. _Horsemen of the Plains. _ Barbour, Ralph H. , _The Crimson Sweater_. Bennett, John, _The Treasure of Peyre Gaillard_. Burton, Charles P. , _The Boys of Bob's Hill_. Carruth, Hayden, _Track's End_. Cody, William F. , _Adventures of Buffalo Bill_. Drysdale, William, _The Fast Mail_. Grinnell, George Bird, _Jack among the Indians_. _Jack, the Young Ranchman. _ Hunting, Henry G. , _The Cave of the Bottomless Pool_. Janvier, Thomas A. , _The Aztec Treasure House_. Kaler, James Otis, _Toby Tyler, or Ten Weeks with a Circus_. London, Jack, _The Call of the Wild_. Malone, Captain P. B. , _Winning His Way to West Point_. Masefield, John, _Jim Davis_. Mason, Alfred B. , _Tom Strong, Washington's Scout_. Matthews, Brander, _Tom Paulding_. Moffett, Cleveland, _Careers of Danger and Daring_. Munroe, Kirk, _Cab and Caboose_. _Derrick Sterling. _ O'Higgins, Harvey J. , _The Smoke Eaters_. Quirk, Leslie W. , _The Boy Scouts of the Black Eagle Patrol_. Sabin, Edwin L. , _Bar B Boys_. Schultz, James Willard, _With the Indians in the Rockies_. Stevenson, Burton E. , _The Young Train Despatcher_. Stevenson, Robert Louis, _Treasure Island_. Stoddard, William O. , _Two Arrows_. _Talking Leaves. _ Trowbridge, John T. , _Cudjo's Cave_. _The Young Surveyor. _ Verne, Jules, _20, 000 Leagues under the Sea_. Wallace, Dillon, _Wilderness Castaways_. White, Stewart Edward, _The Magic Forest_. SECTION II MOTHER GOOSE JINGLES AND NURSERY RHYMES BIBLIOGRAPHY I. IMPORTANT IN TRACING THE MOTHER GOOSE CANON c. 1760. _Mother Goose's Melody. _ [Published by John Newbery, London. ] No copy of this issue known to be in existence. c. 1783. Ritson, Joseph, _Gammer Gurton's Garland, or the NurseryParnassus_. [1810, enlarged. ] c. 1785. _Mother Goose's Melody. _ [Reprint of Newbery, by Isaiah Thomas, Worcester, Mass. ] [1889. Whitmore, W. H. , _The Original Mother Goose's Melody_, as first issued by John Newbery, of London, about A. D. 1760. Reproduced in _facsimile_ from the edition as reprinted by Isaiah Thomas, of Worcester, Mass. , about A. D. 1785. With introduction and notes. ] 1824 ff. _Mother Goose's Quarto, or Melodies Complete. _ [Various issuesby Munroe and Francis, Boston. ] [Hale, Edward Everett, _The Only True Mother Goose Melodies_. Exact reproduction of the text and illustrations of the original edition (_Mother Goose's Melodies: The Only Pure Edition_) printed in Boston in 1834 by Monroe and Francis. With an introduction. ] 1826. Chambers, Robert, _Popular Rhymes of Scotland_. [1870, enlarged. ] 1834. Ker, John Bellenden, _An Essay on the Archaeology of PopularEnglish Phrases and Nursery Rhymes_. [Supplemented 1840 and 1842. ] 1842. Halliwell (Phillips), J. O. , _The Nursery Rhymes of England_. 1849. Halliwell (Phillips), J. O. , _Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales_. 1864. Rimbault, Edward F. , _Old Nursery Rhymes with Tunes_. II. IMPORTANT MODERN COLLECTIONS Baring-Gould, Sabine, _A Book of Nursery Songs and Rhymes_. Headland, I. T. , _Chinese Mother Goose Rhymes_. Jerrold, Walter, _The Big Book of Nursery Rhymes_. Lang, Andrew, _The Nursery Rhyme Book_. Newell, W. W. , _Games and Songs of American Children_. Saintsbury, G. E. B. , _National Rhymes of the Nursery_. Welsh, Charles, _A Book of Nursery Rhymes_. Wheeler, William A. , _Mother Goose's Melodies_. III. NURSERY RHYMES WITH MUSIC Crane, Walter, _The Baby's Bouquet, a Fresh Bunch of Old Rhymes and Tunes_. Homer, Sidney, _Songs from Mother Goose_. Le Mair, H. Willebeck, _Our Old Nursery Rhymes_. Le Mair, H. Willebeck, _Little Songs of Long Ago_. Perkins, Raymond, _Thirty Old-Time Nursery Songs_. IV. STUDIES Bolton, H. C. , _Counting-out Rhymes of Children, Their Antiquity, Origin, and Wide Distribution_. Earle, Alice Morse, _Child Life in Colonial Days_. [Especially chap. Xiv. ] Eckenstein, Lina, _Comparative Studies in Nursery Rhymes_. Godfrey, Elizabeth, _English Children in the Olden Time_. [Especially chap. Ii. ] Gomme, A. B. , _The Traditional Games of England, Scotland, and Ireland_. 2 vols. Green, P. B. , _The History of Nursery Rhymes_. Halsey, Rosalie V. , _Forgotten Books of the American Nursery_. Field, W. T. , _Fingerposts to Children's Reading_, pp. 193 ff. Moses, M. J. , _Children's Books and Reading_, pp. 40 ff. SECTION II. MOTHER GOOSE JINGLES AND NURSERY RHYMES INTRODUCTORY _A flawless literature. _ The one literature that is supremely adapted toits purpose is the collection of rhymes associated with Mother Goose. Toevery child it comes with an irresistible appeal. It has a power sonatural and fundamental that it defies explanation. The child takes itfor granted just as he does his parents. It has a perfection of rhythmand structure not attainable by modern imitators. It has been perfectedthrough the generations by the surest of all tests, that of constantpopular use. Much of it is common to many different nations. It is aninternational literature of childhood. While much of it is known tochildren long before they enter school, these jingles, like all folkliterature, never lose their charm through repetition. The schools havelong since learned the value of the familiar in teaching. The process oflearning to read is usually based on some of the better known rhymes. Teachers of literature in more advanced classes think they can generallydetect the students who have been especially "learned" in "Mother Gooseher ways" by their quick responsiveness to the facts of verbal rhythmand rhythmical structure in more sophisticated products. "If we have nolove for poetry to-day, it may not impossibly be due to the fact that wehave ceased to prize the old, old tales which have been the delight ofthe child and the child-man since the foundations of the world. If youwant your child to love Homer, do not withhold Mother Goose. " _Who was Mother Goose?_ The answer to this, as to other questionssuggested below, may be of no direct or special interest to the childrenthemselves. But teachers should know some of the main conclusionsarrived at by folklorists and others in their investigations of thetraditional materials used for basic work in literature. All theevidence shows that Mother Goose as the name of the familiar old lady ofthe nursery came to us from France. Andrew Lang discovered a referenceto her in a French poem of 1650, where she figures as a teller ofstories. In 1697 Perrault's famous fairy tales were published with afrontispiece representing an old woman spinning, and telling tales to aman, a girl, a little boy, and a cat. On this frontispiece was thelegend, _Tales of Our Mother Goose_. (See note to No. 161. ) As a teller of prose tales, Mother Goose came to England with thetranslation of Perrault about 1730. We do not find her name connectedwith verse until after the middle of the eighteenth century. About theyear 1760 a little book called _Mother Goose's Melody_ was issued byJohn Newbery, a London publisher and a most important figure in thehistory of the production of books for children. It is a pleasant andnot improbable theory that this first collection of nursery rhymes, uponwhich later ones were built, was the work of Oliver Goldsmith, who wasfor some years in Newbery's employ. However that may be, it is certainthat from this date the name of Mother Goose has been almost exclusivelyassociated with nursery rhymes. Newbery's _Mother Goose's Melody_ was soon reprinted by Isaiah Thomas, of Worcester, Massachusetts, and thus came into the hands of Americanchildren early in our national life. A long-since exploded theory wasadvanced about 1870 that Mother Goose was a real woman of Boston in theearly eighteenth century, whose rhymes were published by her son-in-law, Thomas Fleet, in 1719. But no one has identified any such publicationand there is no evidence whatever that this old lady in cap andspectacles is other than purely mythical. _Whence came the jingles themselves?_ It is certain that many nurseryrhymes are both widespread geographically in distribution and of greatantiquity. Halliwell and others have found references to some of them inold books which prove that many of the English rhymes go back severalcenturies. They are of popular origin; that is, they took rootanonymously among the folk and were passed on by word of mouth. When arhyme can be traced to any known authority we generally find that thefolk have extracted what pleased, have forgotten or modified anyoriginal historical or other application the rhymes may have possessed, and in general have shaped the rhyme to popular taste. "Thus our oldnursery rhymes, " says Andrew Lang, "are smooth stones from the book oftime, worn round by constant friction of tongues long silent. We cannothope to make new nursery rhymes, any more than we can write new fairytales. " Here are a few illustrations of what scholars have been able to tell usof the sources of the rhymes: "Jack and Jill" preserves the Icelandicmyth of two children caught up into the moon, where they can still beseen carrying a bucket on a pole between them. "Three Blind Mice" istraced to an old book called _Deuteromalia_ (1609). "Little Jack Horner"is all that is left of an extended chapbook story, _The Pleasant Historyof Jack Horner, Containing His Witty Tricks_, etc. "Poor Old RobinsonCrusoe" is a fragment from a song by the character Jerry Sneak inFoote's _Mayor of Garratt_ (1763). "Simple Simon" gives all that thenursery has preserved of a long chapbook verse story. "A Swarm of Beesin May" was found by Halliwell quoted in Miege's _Great FrenchDictionary_ (1687). These and numerous like facts serve only to impressus with the long and honorable history of the nursery rhyme. _Can nursery rhymes be helpfully classified?_ This question seems ofmore consequence to the teacher than the previous ones because it dealswith the practical organization of his material. The most superficialobserver can see that Nos. 3, 36, 46, 59, 62, and 113, on the followingpages, are riddles; that Nos. 22 and 30 are counting-out rhymes; thatNos. 37, 38, 39, 40, and 41 are replies that might be made to one whoindulged unduly in suppositions; that No. 27 is a face game, No. 75 ahand game, and No. 108 a toe game; that Nos. 42, 81, 82, 107, and 111are riding songs; that Nos. 7, 10, 23, 67, and 137 are proverbialsayings; that Nos. 64 and 89 are charms; and so one might continue withgroupings based on the immediate use made of the rhyme, not forgettingthe great number that lend themselves to the purposes of the croonedlullaby or soothing song. Halliwell made the first attempt at any complete classification in his_Nursery Rhymes of England_ (1842), using eighteen headings: (1)Historical, (2) Literal, (3) Tales, (4) Proverbs, (5) Scholastic, (6)Songs, (7) Riddles, (8) Charms, (9) Gaffers and Gammers, (10) Games, (11) Paradoxes, (12) Lullabies, (13) Jingles, (14) Love and Matrimony, (15) Natural History, (16) Accumulative Stories, (17) Local, (18)Relics. Andrew Lang follows Halliwell, but reduces the classes tofourteen by combining (2) and (5), (7) and (11), (8) and (12), and byomitting (17). These classifications are made from the standpoint of thefolklore scholar, and are based on the sources from which the rhymesoriginally sprang. Professor Saintsbury scouts the value of any sucharrangement, since all belong equally in the one class, "jingles, " andhe also rightly points out that "all genuine nursery rhymes . . . Havenever become nursery rhymes until the historical fact has beenpractically forgotten by those who used them, and nothing but themetrical and musical attraction remains. " Without denying the great significance of popular rhymes to the studentof folklore, we must look elsewhere for any practical suggestion for theteacher in the matter of arrangement. Such a suggestion will be found inthe late Charles Welsh's _Book of Nursery Rhymes_, a little volume thatevery teacher interested in children's literature must make use of. Therhymes are grouped into three main divisions: (1) Mother Play, (2)Mother Stories, and (3) Child Play, with subordinate groupings undereach. About 250 rhymes are included in Welsh's collection, and thearrangement suggests the best order for using them practically, withoutdropping into any ironclad system. It may be argued that any attempt at classification of material sofreely and variously used as the Mother Goose rhymes is sure to stiffenthe work of the class and render it less enjoyable. Spontaneity is morevital here than at any other stage of one's literary education. _What is the secret of the nursery rhyme's appeal to children?_ Here atleast we are face to face with what may be called a final fact, thatthese jingles do make an appeal so universal and remarkable that anyattempt to explain it seems always to fall far short of completeness. Perhaps the best start may be made with Mr. Welsh's suggestion that thisappeal is threefold: first, that which comes from the rhyming jingle, asin "Higgledy, piggledy, my fat hen"; second, that which comes from thenonsense surprises, as in "Hey diddle diddle, " "Three wise men ofGotham, " and "I'll tell you a story"; third, that which comes from thedramatic action, as in "Little Miss Muffet, " and "Little Jack Horner. "This summary does not differ much from Mr. Walter Taylor Field'sconclusions: "The child takes little thought as to what _any_ of theseverses mean. There are perhaps four elements in them that appeal tohim, --first, the jingle, and with it that peculiar cadence which modernwriters of children's poetry strive in vain to imitate; second, thenonsense, --with just enough of sense in it to connect the nonsense withthe child's thinkable world; third, the action, --for the stories arequite dramatic in their way; and fourth, the quaintness. " Mr. Field alsoemphasizes the probable charm of mystery in the face of the unknownfacts beyond the child's horizon, which appear in many of the rhymes. Other commentators do little beyond expanding some of these suggestions. All of them agree in stressing the appeal made by rhythm, the jingle, the emphatic meter. This seems a fundamental thing in all literature, though readers are mainly conscious of it in poetry. Just howfundamental it is in human life has not been better hinted than in asentence by Mrs. MacClintock: "One who is trying to write a sobertreatise in a matter-of-fact way dares not, lest he be set down as theveriest mystic, say all the things that might be said about thefunction of rhythm, especially in its more pronounced form of meter, among a community of children, no matter what the size of the group--howrhythmic motion, or the flow of measured and beautiful sounds, harmonizes their differences, tunes them up to their tasks, disciplinestheir conduct, comforts their hurts, quiets their nerves; all this apartfrom the facts more or less important from the point of view ofliterature, that it cultivates their ear, improves their taste, andprovides them a genuinely artistic pleasure. " Professor Saintsbury, as usual, adds a fascinating turn to thediscussion when, after agreeing that we may see in the rhymes, "to agreat extent, the poetical appeal of sound as opposed to that of meaningin its simplest and most unmistakable terms, " he continues: "And weshall find something else, which I venture to call the attraction of theinarticulate. . . . In moments of more intense and genuine feeling . . . [man] does not as a rule use or at least confine himself to articulatespeech. . . . All children . . . Fall naturally, long after they are ableto express themselves as it is called rationally, into a sort of pleasantgibberish when they are alone and pleased or even displeased. . . . It mustbe a not infrequent experience of most people that one frequently fallsinto pure jingle and nonsense verse of the nursery kind. . . . I shouldmyself, though I may not carry many people with me, go farther than thisand say that this 'attraction of the inarticulate, ' this allurement ofmere sound and sequence, has a great deal more to do than is generallythought with the charm of the very highest poetry. . . . In the bestnursery rhymes, as in the simpler and more genuine ballads which have soclose a connection with them, we find this attraction of theinarticulate--this charm of pure sound, this utilizing of alliterationand rhyme and assonance. " Those who have noticed the tendency ofchildren to find vocal pleasure even of a physical or muscular sort innonsense combinations of sounds, and who also realize their own tendencyin this direction, will feel that Professor Saintsbury has hit upon asuggestive term in his claim for "the attraction of the inarticulate" asa partial explanation of the Mother Goose appeal. Through song, game, memorization, and dramatization, traditional ororiginal, the rhymes may be made to contribute to the child'ssatisfaction in all of the directions pointed out. SUGGESTIONS FOR READING (Books referred to by authors' names are listed in preceding bibliography. ) For orientation read Chauncey B. Tinker, "In Praise of Nursery Lore, " _Unpopular Review_, Vol. VI, p. 338 (Oct. -Dec. , 1916). For a most satisfactory presentation of the whole subject read chap. X, "Mother Goose, " in Field. For the origin of Mother Goose as a character consult Lang's introduction to his edition of _Perrault's Popular Tales_. For the theory of her American nativity see Wheeler and Whitmore. For the origins of the rhymes themselves the authorities are Halliwell and Eckenstein. For pedagogical suggestions see Welsh, also his article "Nursery Rhymes, " _Cyclopedia of Education_ (ed. Monroe). For many interesting facts and suggestions on rhythm in nursery rhymes consult Charles H. Sears, "Studies in Rhythm, " _Pedagogical Seminary_, Vol. VIII, p. 3. For the whole subject of folk songs look into Martinengo-Cesaresco, _The Study of Folk Songs_. Books and periodicals dealing with primary education often contain brief discussions of value on the use of rhymes. Many Mother Goose records have been prepared by the educational departments of the various talking-machine companies, and may be used to advantage in the work in rhythm. The shorter rhymes (Nos. 1-115) are arranged in alphabetical order. There are many slight variations in the form of the text as found inprinted versions and in the oral versions used by children in differentcommunities. While Halliwell has been used as the basis for rhymes givenin his collection, the following versions try to reproduce the forms ofexpression that seem generally most pleasing to children. 1 A cat came fiddling out of a barn, With a pair of bagpipes under her arm; She could sing nothing but fiddle-de-dee, The mouse has married the bumble-bee; Pipe, cat--dance, mouse-- We'll have a wedding at our good house. 2 A diller, a dollar, A ten o'clock scholar, What makes you come so soon? You used to come at ten o'clock, And now you come at noon. 3 As I was going to St. Ives, I met a man with seven wives; Every wife had seven sacks, Every sack had seven cats, Every cat had seven kits: Kits, cats, sacks, and wives, How many were there going to St. Ives? (_One. _) 4 As I was going up Pippen Hill, -- Pippen Hill was dirty, -- There I met a pretty miss, And she dropped me a curtsy. Little miss, pretty miss, Blessings light upon you; If I had half-a-crown a day, I'd spend it all upon you. 5 As I went to Bonner, I met a pig Without a wig, Upon my word of honor. 6 As Tommy Snooks and Bessie Brooks Were walking out one Sunday, Says Tommy Snooks to Bessie Brooks, "To-morrow will be Monday. " 7 A swarm of bees in May Is worth a load of hay; A swarm of bees in June Is worth a silver spoon; A swarm of bees in July Is not worth a fly. 8 Baa, baa, black sheep, Have you any wool? Yes, marry, have I, Three bags full; One for my master, And one for my dame, And one for the little boy Who lives in the lane. 9 Barber, barber, shave a pig, How many hairs will make a wig? "Four and twenty, that's enough. " Give the barber a pinch of snuff. 10 Birds of a feather flock together, And so will pigs and swine; Rats and mice will have their choice, And so will I have mine. 11 Bless you, bless you, burnie bee; Say, when will your wedding be? If it be to-morrow day, Take your wings and fly away. 12 Bobby Shafto's gone to sea, With silver buckles at his knee; He'll come back and marry me, -- Pretty Bobby Shafto! Bobby Shafto's fat and fair, Combing out his yellow hair, He's my love for evermore, -- Pretty Bobby Shafto! 13 Bow, wow, wow, Whose dog art thou? Little Tom Tinker's dog, Bow, wow, wow. 14 Bye, baby bunting, Daddy's gone a-hunting, To get a little rabbit skin To wrap the baby bunting in. 15 Come when you're called, Do what you're bid, Shut the door after you, Never be chid. 16 Cross patch, Draw the latch, And sit by the fire and spin; Take a cup, And drink it up, Then call your neighbors in. 17 Curly locks! curly locks! wilt thou be mine? Thou shalt not wash the dishes, nor yet feed the swine. But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam, And feed upon strawberries, sugar, and cream! 18 Dance, little baby, dance up high, Never mind, baby, mother is by; Crow and caper, caper and crow, There, little baby, there you go; Up to the ceiling, down to the ground, Backward and forward, round and round; Dance, little baby, and mother will sing, With the merry coral, ding, ding, ding! 19 Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son John, He went to bed with his stockings on; One shoe off, the other shoe on, Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son John. 20 Ding, dong, bell! Pussy's in the well. Who put her in? Little Tommy Green. Who pulled her out? Little Johnny Stout. What a naughty boy was that, To drown the poor, poor pussy-cat, Who never did him any harm, But killed the mice in his father's barn. 21 Doctor Foster Went to Glo'ster, In a shower of rain; He stepped in a puddle, Up to his middle, And never went there again. 22 Eggs, butter, cheese, bread, Stick, stock, stone dead, Stick him up, stick him down, Stick him in the old man's crown. 23 For every evil under the sun, There is a remedy, or there is none. If there be one, try to find it, If there be none, never mind it. 24 Four-and-twenty tailors went to kill a snail, The bravest man among them dursn't touch her tail; The snail put out her horns, like a little Kyloe cow, Run, tailors, run, or she'll kill you all e'en now. 25 Great A, little a, Bouncing B! The cat's in the cupboard, And she can't see. 26 Hark, hark, The dogs do bark, The beggars are coming to town: Some in tags, Some in rags, And some in velvet gowns. 27 Here sits the Lord Mayor, (_touching forehead_) Here sit his two men, (_eyes_) Here sits the cock, (_right cheek_) Here sits the hen, (_left cheek_) Here sit the little chickens, (_tip of nose_) Here they all run in; (_mouth_) Chinchopper, chinchopper, Chinchopper chin! (_chuck the chin_) 28 Here we go up, up, up, And here we go down, down, down; And here we go backwards and forwards, And here we go round, round, round. 29 Given as usually known to children. In some older versions the word "craft" was used instead of "sport, " thus making a rhyme. There is an old story of an overly serious parent who was greatly disturbed by the evident exaggerations in this jingle. After calling the attention of his children to the offensive improbabilities, the good man suggested the following "revised version. " Hey diddle diddle, The cat and the fiddle, The cow jumped _under_ the moon; The little dog _barked_, To see the sport, And the _cat_ ran after the spoon! Hey! diddle, diddle, The cat and the fiddle, The cow jumped over the moon; The little dog laughed To see such sport, And the dish ran away with the spoon. 30 Hickery, dickery, 6 and 7, Alabone Crackabone, 10 and 11, Spin, span, muskidan; Twiddle 'um, twaddle 'um, 21. 31 Higgledy, Piggledy, My black hen, She lays eggs For gentlemen; Sometimes nine, And sometimes ten, Higgledy, Piggledy, My black hen! 32 Hickory, dickory, dock, The mouse ran up the clock, The clock struck one, The mouse ran down; Hickory, dickory, dock. 33 Hogs in the garden, catch 'em, Towser. Cows in the cornfield, run, boys, run; Cats in the cream-pot, run, girls, run, girls; Fire on the mountains, run, boys, run. 34 Hot-cross buns! Hot-cross buns! One a penny, two a penny, Hot-cross buns! Hot-cross buns! Hot-cross buns! If you have no daughters, Give them to your sons. 35 Hub a dub dub, Three men in a tub; The butcher, the baker, The candlestick-maker, They all fell out of a rotten potato. 36 Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall; Threescore men and threescore more Cannot place Humpty Dumpty as he was before. (_An egg. _) 37 If all the sea were one sea, What a _great_ sea that would be! And if all the trees were one tree, What a _great_ tree that would be! And if all the axes were one axe, What a _great_ axe that would be! And if all the men were one man, What a _great_ man he would be! And if the _great_ man took the _great_ axe, And cut down the _great_ tree, And let it fall into the _great_ sea, What a splish splash _that_ would be! 38 If all the world was apple-pie, And all the sea was ink, And all the trees were bread and cheese, What should we have for drink? 39 If I'd as much money as I could spend, I never would cry, "Old chairs to mend! Old chairs to mend! Old chairs to mend!" I never would cry, "Old chairs to mend!" If I'd as much money as I could tell, I never would cry, "Old clothes to sell! Old clothes to sell! Old clothes to sell!" I never would cry, "Old clothes to sell!" 40 If "ifs" and "ands" Were pots and pans, There would be no need for tinkers! 41 If wishes were horses, Beggars might ride; If turnips were watches, I'd wear one by my side. 42 I had a little pony, His name was Dapple-gray, I lent him to a lady, To ride a mile away; She whipped him, she slashed him, She rode him through the mire; I would not lend my pony now For all that lady's hire. 43 I had a little hobby horse, His name was Tommy Gray, His head was made of pease straw, His body made of hay; I saddled him and bridled him, And rode him up to town, There came a little puff of wind And blew him up and down. 44 I have a little sister, they call her peep, peep; She wades the waters deep, deep, deep; She climbs the mountains high, high, high; Poor little creature, she has but one eye. (_A star. _) 45 I'll tell you a story Of Jack-a-Nory, And now my story's begun. I'll tell you another About Jack's brother, And now my story is done. 46 In marble walls as white as milk, Lined with a skin as soft as silk; Within a fountain crystal clear, A golden apple doth appear. No doors there are to this stronghold, Yet thieves break in and steal the gold. (_An egg. _) 47 1. I went up one pair of stairs. 2. Just like me. 1. I went up two pair of stairs. 2. Just like me. 1. I went into a room. 2. Just like me. 1. I looked out of a window. 2. Just like me. 1. And there I saw a monkey. 2. Just like me. 48 Jack and Jill went up the hill, To fetch a pail of water; Jack fell down, and broke his crown, And Jill came tumbling after. 49 Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack jump over the candlestick. 50 Jack Sprat could eat no fat, His wife could eat no lean; And so between them both, you see, They licked the platter clean. 51 Knock at the door, (_forehead_) And peep in, (_lift eyelids_) Open the door, (_mouth_) And walk in. Chinchopper, chinchopper, Chinchopper chin! 52 These lines, common in similar form to many countries, are said by children when they throw the beautiful little insect into the air to make it take flight. Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home, Your house is on fire, your children all gone; All but one, and her name is Ann, And she crept under the pudding-pan. 53 Little boy blue, come blow your horn, The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn; Where is the boy that looks after the sheep? He's under the haycock fast asleep. Will you wake him? No, not I; For if I do, he'll be sure to cry. 54 Little girl, little girl, where have you been? Gathering roses to give to the queen. Little girl, little girl, what gave she you? She gave me a diamond as big as my shoe. 55 Little Jack Horner Sat in a corner, Eating his Christmas pie. He put in his thumb, And he pulled out a plum, And said, "What a good boy am I!" 56 Little Jack Jingle, He used to live single, But when he got tired of this kind of life, He left off being single and lived with his wife. 57 Little Johnny Pringle had a little pig; It was very little, so was not very big. As it was playing beneath the shed, In half a minute poor Piggie was dead. So Johnny Pringle he sat down and cried, And Betty Pringle she lay down and died. This is the history of one, two, and three, Johnny Pringle he, Betty Pringle she, And the Piggie-Wiggie. 58 Little Miss Muffet Sat on a tuffet, Eating of curds and whey; There came a great spider, And sat down beside her, And frightened Miss Muffet away. 59 Little Nancy Etticoat, In a white petticoat, And a red nose; The longer she stands, The shorter she grows. (_A candle. _) 60 Little Robin Redbreast Sat upon a rail; Niddle naddle went his head, Wiggle waggle went his tail. 61 Little Tommy Tucker Sings for his supper; What shall he eat? White bread and butter. How shall he cut it Without e'er a knife? How will he be married Without e'er a wife? 62 Long legs, crooked thighs, Little head and no eyes. (_The tongs. _) 63 Lucy Locket lost her pocket, Kitty Fisher found it: Nothing in it, nothing in it, But the binding round it. 64 Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John Guard the bed that I lie on! Four corners to my bed, Four angels round my head; One to watch, one to pray, And two to bear my soul away. 65 Mistress Mary, quite contrary, How does your garden grow? With cockle-shells, and silver bells, And pretty maids all in a row. 66 Multiplication is vexation, Division is as bad; The Rule of Three perplexes me, And Practice drives me mad. 67 Needles and pins, needles and pins, When a man marries his trouble begins. 68 Old King Cole Was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he; He called for his pipe, And he called for his bowl, And he called for his fiddlers three. Every fiddler, he had a fine fiddle, And a very fine fiddle had he; Twee tweedle dee, tweedle dee, went the fiddlers. Oh, there's one so rare, As can compare With old King Cole and his fiddlers three! 69 Once I saw a little bird Come hop, hop, hop; So I cried, "Little bird, Will you stop, stop, stop?" And was going to the window To say, "How do you do?" But he shook his little tail, And far away he flew. 70 One for the money, And two for the show; Three to make ready, And four to go. 71 One misty, moisty morning, When cloudy was the weather, I chanced to meet an old man Clothed all in leather, He began to compliment, And I began to grin, -- "How do you do, " and "How do you do, " And "How do you do" again! 72 1, 2, 3, 4, 5! I caught a hare alive; 6, 7, 8, 9, 10! I let her go again. 73 One, two, Buckle my shoe; Three, four, Shut the door; Five, six, Pick up sticks; Seven, eight, Lay them straight; Nine, ten, A good fat hen; Eleven, twelve, Who will delve? Thirteen, fourteen, Maids a-courting; Fifteen, sixteen, Maids a-kissing; Seventeen, eighteen, Maids a-waiting; Nineteen, twenty, My stomach's empty. 74 Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man! So I will, master, as fast as I can: Pat it, and prick it, and mark it with T, Put it in the oven for Tommy and me. 75 Pease-porridge hot, Pease-porridge cold, Pease-porridge in the pot, Nine days old; Some like it hot, Some like it cold, Some like it in the pot, Nine days old. 76 Peter, Peter, pumpkin-eater, Had a wife and couldn't keep her; He put her in a pumpkin-shell, And there he kept her very well. 77 Halliwell suggests that "off a pewter plate" is sometimes added at the end of each line. This rhyme is famous as a "tongue twister, " or enunciation exercise. Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers; A peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked; If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, Where's the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked? 78 Poor old Robinson Crusoe! Poor old Robinson Crusoe! They made him a coat, Of an old nanny goat, I wonder how they could do so! With a ring a ting tang, And a ring a ting tang, Poor old Robinson Crusoe! 79 Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, where have you been? I've been to London to see the Queen. Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, what did you there? I frightened a little mouse under the chair. 80 Pussy sits beside the fire; How can she be fair? In comes the little dog, "Pussy, are you there? So, so, dear Mistress Pussy, Pray tell me how do you do?" "Thank you, thank you, little dog, I'm very well just now. " 81 Ride a cock-horse to Banbury-cross, To see an old lady upon a white horse, Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, And so she makes music wherever she goes. 82 Ride, baby, ride! Pretty baby shall ride, And have a little puppy-dog tied to her side; And one little pussy-cat tied to the other, And away she shall ride to see her grandmother, To see her grandmother, To see her grandmother. 83 Rock-a-bye, baby, On the tree top, When the wind blows The cradle will rock; When the bough breaks The cradle will fall, Down will come baby, Bough, cradle, and all. 84 Rock-a-bye, baby, thy cradle is green; Father's a nobleman, mother's a queen; And Betty's a lady, and wears a gold ring; And Johnny's a drummer, and drums for the king. 85 See a pin and pick it up, All the day you'll have good luck; See a pin and let it lay, Bad luck you'll have all the day! 86 See, saw, sacradown, Which is the way to London town? One foot up, the other foot down, And that is the way to London town. 87 Shoe the little horse, And shoe the little mare, And let the little colt Run bare, bare, bare. 88 Sing a song of sixpence, A pocket full of rye; Four and twenty blackbirds Baked in a pie; When the pie was opened, The birds began to sing; Was not that a dainty dish To set before the king? The king was in his counting-house Counting out his money; The queen was in the parlor Eating bread and honey; The maid was in the garden Hanging out the clothes, When along came a blackbird, And pecked off her nose. Jenny was so mad, She didn't know what to do; She put her finger in her ear, And cracked it right in two. 89 Star light, star bright, First star I see to-night; I wish I may, I wish I might, Have the wish I wish to-night. 90 The King of France went up the hill, With twenty thousand men; The King of France came down the hill, And ne'er went up again. 91 The lion and the unicorn Were fighting for the crown; The lion beat the unicorn All round about the town. Some gave them white bread, And some gave them brown, Some gave them plumcake, And sent them out of town. 92 The man in the moon Came tumbling down, And asked the way to Norwich; He went by the south And burned his mouth With supping cold pease porridge. 93 The north wind doth blow, And we shall have snow, And what will the robin do then? Poor thing! He will sit in a barn, And to keep himself warm, Will hide his head under his wing, Poor thing! 94 The Queen of Hearts she made some tarts, All on a summer's day. The Knave of Hearts he stole those tarts, And hid them clean away. The King of Hearts he missed those tarts, And beat the Knave right sore, The Knave of Hearts brought back the tarts, And vowed he'd steal no more. 95 There was a crooked man, and he went a crooked mile, And found a crooked sixpence against a crooked stile: He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse, And they all lived together in a little crooked house. 96 There was a little boy went into a barn, And lay down on some hay; An owl came out and flew about, And the little boy ran away. 97 There was a man and he had naught, And robbers came to rob him; He crept up to the chimney top, And then they thought they had him; But he got down on t'other side, And then they could not find him: He ran fourteen miles in fifteen days, And never looked behind him. 98 There was a man in our town, And he was wondrous wise; He jumped into a briar bush, And scratched out both his eyes: And when he saw his eyes were out, With all his might and main He jumped into another bush, And scratched 'em in again. 99 There was an old man, And he had a calf, And that's half; He took him out of the stall, And put him on the wall; And that's all. 100 There was an old woman, and what do you think? She lived upon nothing but victuals and drink: Victuals and drink were the chief of her diet; Yet this little old woman could never keep quiet. She went to the baker, to buy her some bread, And when she came home, her old husband was dead; She went to the clerk to toll the bell, And when she came back her old husband was well. 101 There was an old woman lived under a hill, And if she's not gone, she lives there still. She put a mouse in a bag and sent it to mill; The miller he swore by the point of his knife, He never took toll of a mouse in his life. 102 There was an old woman of Leeds, Who spent all her time in good deeds; She worked for the poor, Till her fingers were sore, This pious old woman of Leeds! 103 There was an old woman of Norwich, Who lived upon nothing but porridge! Parading the town, She turned cloak into gown! This thrifty old woman of Norwich. 104 There was an old woman tossed up in a basket Nineteen times as high as the moon; Where she was going I couldn't but ask it, For in her hand she carried a broom. "Old woman, old woman, old woman, " quoth I, "O whither, O whither, O whither, so high?" "To brush the cobwebs off the sky!" "Shall I go with thee?" "Aye, by and by. " 105 There was an old woman who lived in a shoe, She had so many children, she didn't know what to do. She gave them some broth without any bread, Then whipped them all soundly, and put them to bed. 106 There was an owl lived in an oak, Wisky, wasky, weedle; And every word he ever spoke, Was fiddle, faddle, feedle. A gunner chanced to come that way, Wisky, wasky, weedle; Says he, "I'll shoot you, silly bird, " Fiddle, faddle, feedle. 107 This is the way the ladies ride; Tri, tre, tre, tree, tri, tre, tre, tree! This is the way the ladies ride, Tri, tre, tre, tree, tri, tre, tre, tree! This is the way the gentlemen ride; Gallop-a-trot, gallop-a-trot! This is the way the gentlemen ride, Gallop-a-trot-a-trot! This is the way the farmers ride; Hobbledy-hoy, hobbledy-hoy! This is the way the farmers ride, Hobbledy-hobbledy-hoy! 108 1. This little pig went to market; 2. This little pig stayed at home; 3. This little pig had roast beef; 4. And this little pig had none; 5. This little pig said, "Wee, wee, wee! I can't find my way home. " 109 Three blind mice! see, how they run! They all ran after the farmer's wife, Who cut off their tails with the carving knife! Did you ever see such a thing in your life? Three blind mice! 110 Three wise men of Gotham Went to sea in a bowl; If the bowl had been stronger, My song would have been longer. 111 To market, to market, to buy a fat pig, Home again, home again, dancing a jig; To market, to market, to buy a fat hog, Home again, home again, jiggety-jog; To market, to market, to buy a plum bun. Home again, home again, market is done. 112 Tom, Tom, the piper's son, Stole a pig and away he run! The pig was eat, and Tom was beat, And Tom went roaring down the street! 113 Two-legs sat upon three-legs, With one-leg in his lap; In comes four-legs And runs away with one-leg; Up jumps two-legs, Catches up three-legs, Throws it after four-legs, And makes him bring one-leg back. (_One-leg is a leg of mutton; two-legs, a man; three-legs, a stool; four-legs, a dog. _) 114 The following is another good "tongue twister" (see No. 77). It is recommended for the little lisper, and in former days it was recommended as a sure cure for the hiccoughs. When a twister a-twisting would twist him a twist, For twisting a twist three twists he will twist; But if one of the twists untwists from the twist, The twist untwisting untwists the twist. 115 "Willy boy, Willy boy, where are you going? I will go with you, if I may. " "I am going to the meadow to see them a-mowing, I am going to see them make the hay. " 116 No. 116 and the two rhymes following are by Miss Wilhelmina Seegmiller. (By permission of the publishers, Rand McNally & Co. , Chicago. ) Their presence will allow teachers to compare some widely and successfully used modern efforts with the traditional jingles in the midst of which they are placed. MILKWEED SEEDS As white as milk, As soft as silk, And hundreds close together: They sail away, On an autumn day, When windy is the weather. 117 AN ANNIVERSARY Pop! fizz! bang! whizz! Don't you know what day this is? Fizz! bang! whizz! pop! Hurrah for the Fourth! and hippity-hop! 118 TWINK! TWINK! Twink, twink, twink, twink, Twinkety, twinkety, twink! The fireflies light their lanterns, Then put them out in a wink. Twink, twink, twink, twink, They light their light once more, Then twinkety, twinkety, twink, twink, They put them out as before. Nos. 119-146 are in the main the longer nursery favorites and may somewhat loosely be called the novels and epics of the nursery as the former group may be called the lyrics and short stories. All of them are marked by dramatic power, a necessary element in all true classics for children whether in verse or prose. Nos. 119 and 120 are two of the favorite jingles used in teaching the alphabet. Each letter suggests a distinct image. In No. 119 the images are all of actions, and connected by the direction of these actions upon a single object. In No. 120 the images are each complete and independent. Here it may be noticed that some of the elements of the pictures are determined by the exigencies of rhyme, as, for instance, what the archer shot at, and what the lady had. The originator doubtless expected the child to see the relation of cause and consequence between Y and Z. 119 A WAS AN APPLE-PIE A was an apple-pie; B bit it; C cut it; D dealt it; E eat it; F fought for it; G got it; H had it; J joined it: K kept it; L longed for it; M mourned for it; N nodded at it; O opened it; P peeped in it; Q quartered it; R ran for it; S stole it; T took it; V viewed it; W wanted it; X, Y, Z, and Ampersand (&) All wished for a piece in hand. 120 TOM THUMB'S ALPHABET A was an archer, and shot at a frog; B was a butcher, and kept a bull-dog. C was a captain, all covered with lace; D was a drunkard, and had a red face. E was an esquire, with insolent brow; F was a farmer, and followed the plough. G was a gamester, who had but ill luck; H was a hunter, and hunted a buck. I was an innkeeper, who loved to carouse; J was a joiner, and built up a house. K was a king, so mighty and grand; L was a lady, who had a white hand. M was a miser, and hoarded up gold; N was a nobleman, gallant and bold. O was an oyster girl, and went about town; P was a parson, and wore a black gown. Q was a queen, who sailed in a ship; R was a robber, and wanted a whip. S was a sailor, and spent all he got; T was a tinker, and mended a pot. U was an usurer, a miserable elf; V was a vintner, who drank all himself. W was a watchman, and guarded the door; X was expensive, and so became poor. Y was a youth, that did not love school; Z was a zany, a poor harmless fool. 121 WHERE ARE YOU GOING Where are you going, my pretty maid? "I'm going a-milking, sir, " she said. May I go with you, my pretty maid? "You're kindly welcome, sir, " she said. What is your father, my pretty maid? "My father's a farmer, sir, " she said. What is your fortune, my pretty maid? "My face is my fortune, sir, " she said. Then I can't marry you, my pretty maid. "Nobody asked you, sir, " she said. 122 MOLLY AND I Molly, my sister, and I fell out, And what do you think it was about? She loved coffee, and I loved tea, And that was the reason we couldn't agree. But Molly, my sister, and I made up, And now together we can sup, For Molly drinks coffee, and I drink tea, And we both are happy as happy can be. 123 LONDON BRIDGE London bridge is broken down, Dance o'er my lady Lee; London bridge is broken down, With a gay lady. How shall we build it up again? Dance o'er my lady Lee; How shall we build it up again? With a gay lady. Build it up with silver and gold, Dance o'er my lady Lee; Build it up with silver and gold, With a gay lady. Silver and gold will be stole away, Dance o'er my lady Lee; Silver and gold will be stole away, With a gay lady. Build it again with iron and steel, Dance o'er my lady Lee; Build it up with iron and steel, With a gay lady. Iron and steel will bend and bow, Dance o'er my lady Lee; Iron and steel will bend and bow, With a gay lady. Build it up with wood and clay, Dance o'er my lady Lee; Build it up with wood and clay, With a gay lady. Wood and clay will wash away, Dance o'er my lady Lee; Wood and clay will wash away, With a gay lady. Build it up with stone so strong, Dance o'er my lady Lee; Huzza! 'twill last for ages long, With a gay lady. 124 I SAW A SHIP I saw a ship a-sailing, A-sailing on the sea; And oh, it was all laden With pretty things for thee! There were comfits in the cabin, And apples in the hold; The sails were made of silk, And the masts were made of gold! The four and twenty sailors, That stood between the decks, Were four and twenty white mice, With chains about their necks. The captain was a duck, With a packet on his back; And when the ship began to move, The captain said, "Quack! Quack!" 125 THERE WAS AN OLD WOMAN There was an old woman, as I've heard tell, She went to market her eggs for to sell; She went to market all on a market-day, And she fell asleep on the king's highway. By came a pedlar whose name was Stout, He cut her petticoats all round about; He cut her petticoats up to her knees, Which made the old woman to shiver and freeze. When this little woman first did wake, She began to shiver and she began to shake, She began to wonder, and she began to cry, "Lauk a mercy on me, this is none of I! "But if it be I, as I do hope it be, I've a little dog at home, and he'll know me; If it be I, he'll wag his little tail, And if it be not I, he'll loudly bark and wail. " Home went the little woman all in the dark, Up got the little dog, and he began to bark; He began to bark, so she began to cry, "Lauk a mercy on me, this is none of I!" 126 LITTLE BO-PEEP Little Bo-peep has lost her sheep, And can't tell where to find them; Leave them alone, and they'll come home, And bring their tails behind them. Little Bo-peep fell fast asleep, And dreamt she heard them bleating; But when she awoke, she found it a joke, For they were still all fleeting. Then up she took her little crook, Determined for to find them; She found them indeed, but it made her heart bleed, For they'd left their tails behind them. It happened one day, as Bo-peep did stray, Unto a meadow hard by: There she espied their tails side by side, All hung on a tree to dry. 127 COCK A DOODLE DOO Cock a doodle doo! My dame has lost her shoe; My master's lost his fiddling stick, And don't know what to do. Cock a doodle doo! What is my dame to do? Till master finds his fiddling stick, She'll dance without her shoe. Cock a doodle doo! My dame has found her shoe, And master's found his fiddling stick, Sing doodle doodle doo! Cock a doodle doo! My dame will dance with you, While master fiddles his fiddling stick, For dame and doodle doo. 128 THREE JOVIAL HUNTSMEN There were three jovial huntsmen, As I have heard them say, And they would go a-hunting All on a summer's day. All the day they hunted, And nothing could they find But a ship a-sailing, A-sailing with the wind. One said it was a ship, The other he said nay; The third said it was a house With the chimney blown away. And all the night they hunted, And nothing could they find, But the moon a-gliding, A-gliding with the wind. One said it was the moon, The other he said nay; The third said it was a cheese, And half o't cut away. 129 THERE WAS A LITTLE MAN There was a little man, And he had a little gun, And his bullets were made of lead, lead, lead; He went to a brook, And fired at a duck, And shot it through the head, head, head. He carried it home To his old wife Joan, And bade her a fire to make, make, make, To roast the little duck, He had shot in the brook, And he'd go and fetch her the drake, drake, drake. The drake was a-swimming, With his curly tail; The little man made it his mark, mark, mark! He let off his gun, But he fired too soon, And the drake flew away with a quack, quack, quack. 130 TAFFY Taffy was a Welshman; Taffy was a thief; Taffy came to my house, And stole a piece of beef. I went to Taffy's house; Taffy wasn't home; Taffy came to my house, And stole a marrow-bone. I went to Taffy's house; Taffy was in bed; I took up the marrow-bone And flung it at his head! 131 SIMPLE SIMON Simple Simon met a pieman Going to the fair: Says Simple Simon to the pieman, "Let me taste your ware. " Says the pieman to Simple Simon, "Show me first your penny. " Says Simple Simon to the pieman, "Indeed I haven't any. " Simple Simon went a fishing Just to catch a whale: All the water he had got Was in his mother's pail. Simple Simon went to look If plums grew on a thistle; He pricked his fingers very much, Which made poor Simon whistle. 132 A FARMER WENT TROTTING A farmer went trotting upon his gray mare, Bumpety, bumpety, bump! With his daughter behind him so rosy and fair, Lumpety, lumpety, lump! A raven cried "Croak!" and they all tumbled down, Bumpety, bumpety, bump! The mare broke her knees, and the farmer his crown, Lumpety, lumpety, lump! The mischievous raven flew laughing away, Bumpety, bumpety, bump! And vowed he would serve them the same the next day, Lumpety, lumpety, lump! 133 TOM THE PIPER'S SON Tom he was a piper's son, He learned to play when he was young, But all the tunes that he could play, Was "Over the hills and far away"; _Over the hills, and a great way off, _ _And the wind will blow my top-knot off. _ Now Tom with his pipe made such a noise, That he pleased both the girls and boys, And they stopped to hear him play, "Over the hills and far away. " Tom with his pipe did play with such skill, That those who heard him could never keep still; Whenever they heard him they began to dance, Even pigs on their hind legs would after him prance. As Dolly was milking her cow one day, Tom took out his pipe and began to play; So Doll and the cow danced "the Cheshire round, " Till the pail was broke and the milk ran on the ground. He met old dame Trot with a basket of eggs, He used his pipes and she used her legs; She danced about till the eggs were all broke, She began for to fret, but he laughed at the joke. He saw a cross fellow was beating an ass, Heavy laden with pots, pans, dishes, and glass; He took out his pipe and played them a tune, And the jackass's load was lightened full soon. 134 WHEN I WAS A LITTLE BOY When I was a little boy, I lived by myself, And all the bread and cheese I got, I put upon my shelf. The rats and the mice, They made such a strife, I had to go to London To buy me a wife. The streets were so broad, And the lanes were so narrow, I had to bring my wife home On a wheelbarrow. The wheelbarrow broke, And my wife had a fall; Down tumbled wheelbarrow, Little wife and all. 135 THE BABES IN THE WOOD My dear, you must know that a long time ago, Two poor little children whose names I don't know, Were stolen away on a fine summer's day, And left in a wood, as I've heard people say. _Poor babes in the wood, poor babes in the wood!_ _So hard was the fate of the babes in the wood. _ And when it was night, so sad was their plight, The sun it went down, and the stars gave no light. They sobbed and they sighed, and they bitterly cried, And the poor little things they lay down and died. And when they were dead, the robins so red, Brought strawberry leaves, and over them spread. And all the day long, the branches among, They sang to them softly, and this was their song: _Poor babes in the wood, poor babes in the wood!_ _So hard was the fate of the babes in the wood. _ 136 THE FOX AND HIS WIFE The fox and his wife they had a great strife, They never ate mustard in all their whole life; They ate their meat without fork or knife, And loved to be picking a bone, e-oh! The fox jumped up on a moonlight night; The stars they were shining, and all things bright; Oh, ho! said the fox, it's a very fine night For me to go through the town, e-oh! The fox when he came to yonder stile, He lifted his ears and he listened awhile! Oh, ho! said the fox, it's but a short mile From this unto yonder wee town, e-oh! The fox when he came to the farmer's gate, Who should he see but the farmer's drake; I love you well for your master's sake, And long to be picking your bone, e-oh! The gray goose she ran round the haystack, Oh, ho! said the fox, you are very fat; You'll grease my beard and ride on my back From this into yonder wee town, e-oh! The farmer's wife she jumped out of bed, And out of the window she popped her head: Oh, husband! oh, husband! the geese are all dead, For the fox has been through the town, e-oh! The farmer he loaded his pistol with lead, And shot the old rogue of a fox through the head; Ah, ha! said the farmer, I think you're quite dead; And no more you'll trouble the town, e-oh! 137 FOR WANT OF A NAIL For want of a nail, the shoe was lost; For want of the shoe, the horse was lost; For want of the horse, the rider was lost; For want of the rider, the battle was lost; For want of the battle, the kingdom was lost; And all for the want of a horseshoe nail! 138 A MAN OF WORDS A man of words and not of deeds Is like a garden full of weeds; And when the weeds begin to grow, It's like a garden full of snow; And when the snow begins to fall, It's like a bird upon the wall; And when the bird away does fly, It's like an eagle in the sky; And when the sky begins to roar, It's like a lion at the door; And when the door begins to crack, It's like a stick across your back; And when your back begins to smart, It's like a penknife in your heart; And when your heart begins to bleed, You're dead, and dead, and dead, indeed. 139 The first stanza of this jingle was long attributed to Longfellow as an impromptu made on one of his children. He took occasion to deny this, as well as the authorship of the almost equally famous "Mr. Finney had a turnip. " The last two stanzas bear evidence of a more sophisticated origin than that of real nursery rhymes. Mr. Lucas, in his _Book of Verses for Children_, gives two different versions of these stanzas. JEMIMA There was a little girl, and she had a little curl, Right down the middle of her forehead, When she was good, she was very, very good, But when she was bad, she was horrid. One day she went upstairs, while her parents, unawares, In the kitchen down below were occupied with meals, And she stood upon her head, on her little truckle-bed, And she then began hurraying with her heels. Her mother heard the noise, and thought it was the boys, A playing at a combat in the attic, But when she climbed the stair and saw Jemima there, She took and she did whip her most emphatic! 140 The following was one of the favorite "toy-book" texts of the eighteenth century. These little books generally had a crude woodcut and one stanza of text on a page. It can be seen how easily this story lends itself to illustration. Each stanza is a chapter, and the story-teller could continue as long as his inventiveness held out. In one edition there are these additional lines: "Old Mother Hubbard sat down in a chair, And danced her dog to a delicate air; She went to the garden to buy him a pippin, When she came back the dog was a-skipping. " MOTHER HUBBARD AND HER DOG Old Mother Hubbard Went to the cupboard, To get her poor dog a bone; But when she came there, The cupboard was bare, And so the poor dog had none. She went to the baker's To buy him some bread; But when she came back, The poor dog was dead. She went to the joiner's To buy him a coffin; But when she came back, The poor dog was laughing. She took a clean dish, To get him some tripe; But when she came back He was smoking his pipe. She went to the fishmonger's To buy him some fish; And when she came back He was licking the dish. She went to the ale-house To get him some beer; But when she came back The dog sat in a chair. She went to the tavern For white wine and red; But when she came back The dog stood on his head. She went to the hatter's To buy him a hat; But when she came back He was feeding the cat. She went to the barber's To buy him a wig; But when she came back He was dancing a jig. She went to the fruiterer's To buy him some fruit; But when she came back, He was playing the flute. She went to the tailor's To buy him a coat; But when she came back, He was riding a goat. She went to the cobbler's To buy him some shoes; But when she came back, He was reading the news. She went to the seamstress To buy him some linen; But when she came back, The dog was spinning. She went to the hosier's To buy him some hose; But when she came back, He was dressed in his clothes. The dame made a curtsy, The dog made a bow; The dame said, "Your servant, " The dog said, "Bow, wow. " 141 This story of a bird courtship and marriage with its attendant feast and tragedy, all followed by the long dirge of No. 142, constitutes one of the longest nursery novels. Its opportunities for the illustrator are very marked, and a copy illustrated by the children themselves would be an addition to the joy of any schoolroom. THE COURTSHIP, MERRY MARRIAGE, AND PICNIC DINNER OF COCK ROBIN AND JENNYWREN; TO WHICH IS ADDED THE DOLEFUL DEATH OF COCK ROBIN It was a merry time When Jenny Wren was young, So neatly as she danced, And so sweetly as she sung, Robin Redbreast lost his heart: He was a gallant bird; He doft his hat to Jenny, And thus to her he said:-- "My dearest Jenny Wren, If you will but be mine, You shall dine on cherry pie, And drink nice currant wine. I'll dress you like a Goldfinch, Or like a Peacock gay; So if you'll have me, Jenny, Let us appoint the day. " Jenny blushed behind her fan, And thus declared her mind: "Then let it be to-morrow, Bob, I take your offer kind-- Cherry pie is very good! So is currant wine! But I will wear my brown gown, And never dress too fine. " Robin rose up early At the break of day; He flew to Jenny Wren's house, To sing a roundelay. He met the Cock and Hen, And bid the Cock declare, This was his wedding-day With Jenny Wren, the fair. The Cock then blew his horn, To let the neighbors know, This was Robin's wedding-day, And they might see the show. And first came parson Rook, With his spectacles and band, And one of _Mother Hubbard's_ books He held within his hand. Then followed him the Lark, For he could sweetly sing, And he was to be clerk At Cock Robin's wedding. He sang of Robin's love For little Jenny Wren; And when he came unto the end, Then he began again. Then came the bride and bridegroom; Quite plainly was she dressed, And blushed so much, her cheeks were As red as Robin's breast. But Robin cheered her up: "My pretty Jen, " said he, "We're going to be married And happy we shall be. " The Goldfinch came on next, To give away the bride; The Linnet, being bride's maid, Walked by Jenny's side; And, as she was a-walking, She said, "Upon my word, I think that your Cock Robin Is a very pretty bird. " The Bullfinch walked by Robin, And thus to him did say, "Pray, mark, friend Robin Redbreast, That Goldfinch, dressed so gay; What though her gay apparel Becomes her very well, Yet Jenny's modest dress and look Must bear away the bell. " The Blackbird and the Thrush, And charming Nightingale, Whose sweet jug sweetly echoes Through every grove and dale; The Sparrow and Tom Tit, And many more, were there: All came to see the wedding Of Jenny Wren, the fair. "O then, " says parson Rook, "Who gives this maid away?" "I do, " says the Goldfinch, "And her fortune I will pay: Here's a bag of grain of many sorts, And other things beside; Now happy be the bridegroom, And happy be the bride!" "And will you have her, Robin, To be your wedded wife?" "Yes, I will, " says Robin, "And love her all my life. " "And will you have him, Jenny, Your husband now to be?" "Yes, I will, " says Jenny, "And love him heartily. " Then on her finger fair Cock Robin put the ring; "You're married now, " says parson Rook, While the Lark aloud did sing: "Happy be the bridegroom, And happy be the bride! And may not man, nor bird, nor beast, This happy pair divide. " The birds were asked to dine; Not Jenny's friends alone, But every pretty songster That had Cock Robin known. They had a cherry pie, Besides some currant wine, And every guest brought something, That sumptuous they might dine. Now they all sat or stood To eat and to drink; And every one said what He happened to think; They each took a bumper, And drank to the pair: Cock Robin, the bridegroom, And Jenny Wren, the fair. The dinner-things removed, They all began to sing; And soon they made the place Near a mile round to ring. The concert it was fine; And every bird tried Who best could sing for Robin And Jenny Wren, the bride. Then in came the Cuckoo, And he made a great rout: He caught hold of Jenny, And pulled her about. Cock Robin was angry, And so was the Sparrow, Who fetched in a hurry His bow and his arrow. His aim then he took, But he took it not right; His skill was not good, Or he shot in a fright; For the Cuckoo he missed, But Cock Robin killed!-- And all the birds mourned That his blood was so spilled. 142 THE BURIAL OF POOR COCK ROBIN Who killed Cock Robin? "I, " said the Sparrow, "With my bow and arrow; And I killed Cock Robin. " Who saw him die? "I, " said the Fly, "With my little eye; And I saw him die. " Who caught his blood? "I, " said the Fish, "With my little dish; And I caught his blood. " Who made his shroud? "I, " said the Beetle, "With my little needle; And I made his shroud. " Who will be the parson? "I, " said the Rook; "With my little book; And I will be the parson. " Who will dig his grave? "I, " said the Owl, "With my spade and shovel; And I'll dig his grave. " Who will be the clerk? "I, " said the Lark, "If 'tis not in the dark; And I will be the clerk. " Who'll carry him to the grave? "I, " said the Kite, "If 'tis not in the night; And I'll carry him to the grave. " Who will be the chief mourner? "I, " said the Dove, "Because of my love; And I will be chief mourner. " Who will sing a psalm? "I, " said the Thrush, As she sat in a bush; "And I will sing a psalm. " Who will bear the pall? "We, " said the Wren, Both the Cock and the Hen; "And we will bear the pall. " Who will toll the bell? "I, " said the Bull, "Because I can pull. " And so, Cock Robin, farewell. All the birds of the air Fell to sighing and sobbing When they heard the bell toll For poor Cock Robin. 143 The following tale was edited (1885) for children by John Ruskin from a version "written principally by a lady of ninety (Mrs. Sharp. )" Ruskin himself added the third, fourth, eighth, and ninth stanzas, because "in the old books no account is given of what the cats learned when they went to school, and I thought my younger readers might be glad of some notice of such particulars. " But he thought his rhymes did not ring like the real ones, of which he said: "I aver these rhymes to possess the primary value of rhyme--that is, to be rhythmical in a pleasant and exemplary degree. " The book was illustrated with quaint woodcuts for each stanza after the edition of 1823, with additional drawings for the four new stanzas by Kate Greenaway, one of the most famous illustrators of children's books. Ruskin commends the result "to the indulgence of the Christmas fireside, because it relates nothing that is sad, and portrays nothing that is ugly. " DAME WIGGINS OF LEE, AND HER SEVEN WONDERFUL CATS Dame Wiggins of Lee Was a worthy old soul, As e'er threaded a nee- dle, or wash'd in a bowl; She held mice and rats In such antipa-thy, That seven fine cats Kept Dame Wiggins of Lee. The rats and mice scared By this fierce whisker'd crew, The poor seven cats Soon had nothing to do; So, as any one idle She ne'er loved to see, She sent them to school, Did Dame Wiggins of Lee. The Master soon wrote That they all of them knew How to read the word "milk" And to spell the word "mew. " And they all washed their faces Before they took tea: "Were there ever such dears!" Said Dame Wiggins of Lee. He had also thought well To comply with their wish To spend all their play-time In learning to fish For stitlings; they sent her A present of three, Which, fried, were a feast For Dame Wiggins of Lee. But soon she grew tired Of living alone; So she sent for her cats From school to come home. Each rowing a wherry, Returning you see: The frolic made merry Dame Wiggins of Lee. The Dame was quite pleas'd And ran out to market; When she came back They were mending the carpet. The needle each handled As brisk as a bee; "Well done, my good cats, " Said Dame Wiggins of Lee. To give them a treat, She ran out for some rice; When she came back, They were skating on ice. "I shall soon see one down, Aye, perhaps, two or three, I'll bet half-a-crown, " Said Dame Wiggins of Lee. When spring-time came back They had breakfast of curds; And were greatly afraid Of disturbing the birds. "If you sit, like good cats, All the seven in a tree, They will teach you to sing!" Said Dame Wiggins of Lee. So they sat in a tree, And said "Beautiful! Hark!" And they listened and looked In the clouds for the lark. Then sang, by the fireside, Symphonious-ly A song without words To Dame Wiggins of Lee. They called the next day On the tomtit and sparrow, And wheeled a poor sick lamb Home in a barrow. "You shall all have some sprats For your humani-ty, My seven good cats, " Said Dame Wiggins of Lee. While she ran to the field, To look for its dam, They were warming the bed For the poor sick lamb: They turn'd up the clothes All as neat as could be; "I shall ne'er want a nurse, " Said Dame Wiggins of Lee. She wished them good night, And went up to bed: When, lo! in the morning, The cats were all fled. But soon--what a fuss! "Where can they all be? Here, pussy, puss, puss!" Cried Dame Wiggins of Lee. The Dame's heart was nigh broke, So she sat down to weep, When she saw them come back Each riding a sheep: She fondled and patted Each purring tom-my: "Ah! welcome, my dears, " Said Dame Wiggins of Lee. The Dame was unable Her pleasure to smother, To see the sick lamb Jump up to its mother. In spite of the gout, And a pain in her knee, She went dancing about: Did Dame Wiggins of Lee. The Farmer soon heard Where his sheep went astray, And arrived at Dame's door With his faithful dog Tray. He knocked with his crook, And the stranger to see, Out the window did look Dame Wiggins of Lee. For their kindness he had them All drawn by his team; And gave them some field-mice, And raspberry-cream. Said he, "All my stock You shall presently see; For I honor the cats Of Dame Wiggins of Lee. " He sent his maid out For some muffins and crumpets; And when he turn'd round They were blowing of trumpets. Said he, "I suppose She's as deaf as can be, Or this ne'er could be borne By Dame Wiggins of Lee. " To show them his poultry, He turn'd them all loose, When each nimbly leap'd On the back of a goose, Which frighten'd them so That they ran to the sea, And half-drown'd the poor cats Of Dame Wiggins of Lee. For the care of his lamb, And their comical pranks, He gave them a ham And abundance of thanks. "I wish you good-day, My fine fellows, " said he; "My compliments, pray, To Dame Wiggins of Lee. " You see them arrived At their Dame's welcome door; They show her their presents, And all their good store. "Now come in to supper, And sit down with me; All welcome once more, " Cried Dame Wiggins of Lee. 144 This is the perfect pattern of all the accumulative stories, perhaps the best known and most loved of children among all nursery jingles. Halliwell thought it descended from the mystical Hebrew hymn, "A kid, a kid, " found in the Talmud. Most commentators since have followed his example in calling attention to the parallel, though scholars have insisted that the hymn referred to is a late interpolation. The hymn opens: "A kid, a kid, my father bought, For two pieces of money: A kid, a kid. "Then came the cat, and ate the kid, That my father bought, " etc. Then came the dog and bit the cat, then the staff and beat the dog, then the fire and burned the staff, then water and quenched the fire, then the ox and drank the water, then the butcher and slew the ox, then the angel of death and killed the butcher, and the hymn concludes: "Then came the Holy One, blessed be He! And killed the angel of death, That killed the butcher, That slew the ox, That drank the water, That quenched the fire, That burned the staff, That beat the dog, That bit the cat, That ate the kid, That my father bought For two pieces of money: A kid, a kid. " There is an elaborate interpretation of the symbolism of this hymn, going back at least as far as 1731, in which the kid denotes the Hebrews, the father is Jehovah, the cat is the Assyrians, the dog is the Babylonians, the staff is the Persians, the fire is Greece under Alexander, the water is the Roman Empire, the ox is the Saracens, the butcher is the crusaders, the angel of death is the Turkish power, while the concluding accumulation shows that God will take vengeance on the enemies of the chosen people. This is the interpretation in barest outline only. Without the key no one would ever guess its hidden meaning. Fortunately, "The House That Jack Built" has no such hidden meaning. But the important point is that such accumulative stories are almost as old as human records, and, like so many other possessions of the race, seem to have come to us from the Far East. THIS IS THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT This is the house that Jack built. This is the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the man all tattered and torn, That kissed the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the priest all shaven and shorn, That married the man all tattered and torn, That kissed the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the cock that crowed in the morn, That waked the priest all shaven and shorn, That married the man all tattered and torn, That kissed the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. This is the farmer sowing his corn, That kept the cock that crowed in the morn, That waked the priest all shaven and shorn, That married the man all tattered and torn, That kissed the maiden all forlorn, That milked the cow with the crumpled horn, That tossed the dog, That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That ate the malt That lay in the house that Jack built. 145 THE EGG IN THE NEST There was a tree stood in the ground, The prettiest tree you ever did see; The tree in the wood, and the wood in the ground, And the green grass growing all around. And on this tree there was a limb, The prettiest limb you ever did see; The limb on the tree, and the tree in the wood, The tree in the wood, and the wood in the ground, And the green grass growing all around. And on this limb there was a bough, The prettiest bough you ever did see; The bough on the limb, and the limb on the tree, The limb on the tree, and the tree in the wood, The tree in the wood, and the wood in the ground, And the green grass growing all around. Now on this bough there was a nest, The prettiest nest you ever did see; The nest on the bough, and the bough on the limb, The limb on the tree, and the tree in the wood, The tree in the wood, and the wood in the ground, And the green grass growing all around. And in the nest there were some eggs, The prettiest eggs you ever did see; Eggs in the nest, and the nest on the bough, The bough on the limb, and the limb on the tree, The limb on the tree, and the tree in the wood, The tree in the wood, and the wood in the ground, And the green grass growing all around, _And the green grass growing all around_. 146 The following story is the same as that of the Norwegian tale "The Husband Who Was to Mind the House" (No. 170). In the Halliwell version the final lines read, "If his wife didn't do a day's work in her life, She should ne'er be ruled by he. " A later reading, now generally accepted, avoids the bad grammar by changing to direct discourse. CHANGE ABOUT There was an old man, who lived in a wood, As you may plainly see; He said he could do as much work in a day, As his wife could do in three. With all my heart, the old woman said, If that you will allow, To-morrow you'll stay at home in my stead, And I'll go drive the plough: But you must milk the Tidy cow, For fear that she go dry; And you must feed the little pigs That are within the sty; And you must mind the speckled hen, For fear she lay away; And you must reel the spool of yarn, That I spun yesterday. The old woman took a staff in her hand, And went to drive the plough: The old man took a pail in his hand, And went to milk the cow; But Tidy hinched, and Tidy flinched, And Tidy broke his nose, And Tidy gave him such a blow, That the blood ran down to his toes. High! Tidy! ho! Tidy! high! Tidy! do stand still; If ever I milk you, Tidy, again, 'Twill be sore against my will! He went to feed the little pigs That were within the sty; He hit his head against the beam, And he made the blood to fly. He went to mind the speckled hen, For fear she'd lay astray, And he forgot the spool of yarn His wife spun yesterday. So he swore by the sun, the moon, and the stars, And the green leaves on the tree, "If my wife doesn't do a day's work in her life, She shall ne'er be ruled by me. " SECTION III FAIRY STORIES--TRADITIONAL TALES BIBLIOGRAPHY I. STANDARD GENERAL COLLECTIONS Jacobs, Joseph, _English Fairy Tales_, _More English Fairy Tales_, _Celtic Fairy Tales_, _More Celtic Fairy Tales_, _Indian Fairy Tales_, _Europa's Fairy Tales_. Lang, Andrew, _The Blue Fairy Book_, _The Red Fairy Book_, _The Green Fairy Book_, _The Yellow Fairy Book_. The Perrault stories are included in the first. Many other volumes named by colors (_Violet_, _Orange_, etc. ) were made under Mr. Lang's direction, but these four include the cream. II. NATIONAL COLLECTIONS ENGLISH: Campbell, J. F. , _Popular Tales of the West Highlands_. 4 vols. Halliwell, J. O. , _Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales_. Hartland, E. S. , _English Fairy and Folk Tales_. GERMAN: Grimm, J. And W. , _Kinder und Hausmärchen_ (_Household Tales_). Translated by Edgar Taylor as _Grimm's Popular Stories_ (55 stories, 1823-1827), and illustrated by George Cruikshank. Best reprint is in one volume with introduction by John Ruskin. Translated complete by Margaret Hunt (2 vols. , 1884), Introduction by Andrew Lang. Other excellent translations of selected stories by Mrs. Lucas and by Lucy Crane. INDIAN: Frere, Mary, _Old Deccan Days_. Knowles, J. H. , _Folk Tales of Kashmir_. Steel, Flora Annie, _Tales of the Punjab_. (Notes by Captain R. C. Temple. ) Stokes, Maive, _Indian Fairy Tales_. IRISH: Curtin, J. , _Hero Tales of Ireland_. Graves, A. P. , _The Irish Fairy Book_. Hyde, Douglas, _Beside the Fire_. Joyce, P. W. , _Old Celtic Romances_. Wilde, Lady Constance, _Ancient Irish Legends_. Yeats, W. B. , _Irish Fairy Tales_. ITALIAN: Crane, T. F. , _Italian Popular Tales_. NORSE: Asbjörnsen, P. C. , and Moe, J. , _Norske Folke-eventyr_ (_Norwegian Folk Tales_, 1842-1844, with subsequent additions). Translated by Sir George Webbe Dasent in _Popular Tales from the Norse_ and _Tales of the Fjeld_; by H. L. Braekstad in _Round the Yule Log_ and _Fairy Tales from the North_. SLAVIC: Bain, R. Nesbit, _Cossack Fairy Tales_, _Russian Folk Tales_. III. THE SCIENCE OF FOLKLORE Cox, Roalfe, _Cinderella_. (Introduction by Lang. ) Clouston, W. A. , _Popular Tales and Fictions_. 2 vols. Gomme, G. L. , _Folklore as an Historical Science_. Hartland, E. S. , _The Science of Fairy Tales_. Keightly, Thomas, _Fairy Mythology_. Lang, Andrew, _Perrault's Popular Tales_. (Introduction. ) MacCulloch, J. A. , _The Childhood of Fiction_. IV. PEDAGOGY Adler, Felix, _The Moral Instruction of Children_, pp. 63-79. Kready, Laura F. , _The Study of Fairy Tales_. (Indispensable. ) MacClintock, P. L. , _Literature in the Elementary School_, pp. 92-112. McMurry, Charles, _Special Method in Reading_, pp. 47-69. SECTION III: FAIRY STORIES--TRADITIONAL TALES INTRODUCTORY The forty-three tales in this section have been chosen (1) in the lightof what experience shows children most enjoy, (2) to represent as fullyas possible the great variety of our traditional inheritance, (3) toafford an opportunity of calling attention to additional riches invarious collections, and (4) to suggest a fair minimum of the amount ofsuch material to be used with children. As in all such questions ofjudgment, there must inevitably be differences of opinion. Many willdoubtless find stories missing that seem necessary even to so small alist, while others will find tales included that may seem questionable. Such a selection can be, and is intended to be, only tentative, astarting point from which there are many lines of departure. _Folklore. _ These tales are all from the traditional field. They aremainly of anonymous and popular origin, handed down orally by peasants. The investigation of their origin, distribution, and interrelationsbelongs to the science of folklore. A good-sized library could be filledentirely with the books concerned with the studies and disputations inthis interesting field. While the folklorists have very much of value totell the teacher, their questions may be largely ignored until thelatter is quite fully acquainted with a large body of the acknowledgedmasterpieces among folk stories, especially those which the schools havetaken to themselves as useful in elementary work. Teachers interested inpursuing the matter further--and it is to be hoped there are manysuch--will find suggestions in the notes at the head of each tale and inthe preceding bibliography that may prove serviceable in directing themsome little way. Each book will point the student to many others; whenhe is once started on the road of investigation, there will open up manyunexpected and fascinating vistas. _Objections to fairy tales. _ These objections seem to fall as a ruleunder two main heads. First, there are those who object to anystimulation of the fanciful in children, and who would have us confineourselves to what they call realities. They would eliminate as far aspossible all the imaginings of children. The make-believe world so dearto infancy has no place in their creed. Second, there are those whodoubt the moral tendency of all fairy tales. They observe that many ofthese tales come to us from a cruder and coarser social state than ourown, that they contain elements of a superstitious and animistic past, that they often deal with cruelties and horrors, trickeries anddisloyalties, that they are full of romantic improbabilities andimpossibilities. It may as well be admitted at once that the folklore ofthe world contains many stories to which these and other objections arevalid. _Is there a proper line of defense for fairy tales?_ Dr. Felix Adler, who certainly cannot be accused of being insensible to realities, putsthe case thus, as between defenders and objectors: "I venture to thinkthat, as in many other cases, the cause of the quarrel is what logicianscall an _undistributed middle_--in other words, that the parties to thedispute have each a different kind of fairy tale in mind. This speciesof literature can be divided broadly into two classes--one consisting oftales which ought to be rejected because they are really harmful, andchildren ought to be protected from their bad influence, the other oftales which have a most beautiful and elevating effect, and which wecannot possibly afford to leave unutilized. " Dr. Adler proceeds to pointout that the chief pedagogic values of the latter class are (1) thatthey exercise and cultivate the imagination, and (2) that they stimulatethe idealizing tendency. John Ruskin, another teacher who constantly in his writings throws theemphasis upon the necessity of a true ethical understanding, has this tosay about the mischievous habit of trying to remake the fairy story inthe service of morals: "And the effect of the endeavor to make storiesmoral upon the literary merit of the work itself, is as harmful as themotive of the effort is false. For every fairy tale worth recording atall is the remnant of a tradition possessing true historicalvalue;--historical, at least in so far as it has naturally arisen out ofthe mind of a people under special circumstances, and arisen not withoutmeaning, nor removed altogether from their sphere of religious faith. Itsustains afterwards natural changes from the sincere action of the fearor fancy of successive generations; it takes new color from their mannerof life, and new form from their changing moral tempers. As long asthese changes are natural and effortless, accidental and inevitable, thestory remains essentially true, altering its form, indeed, like a flyingcloud, but remaining a sign of the sky; a shadowy image, as truly a partof the great firmament of the human mind as the light of reason which itseems to interrupt. But the fair deceit and innocent error of it cannotbe interpreted nor restrained by a wilful purpose, and all additions toit by art do but defile, as the shepherd disturbs the flakes of morningmist with smoke from his fire of dead leaves. " Instead of retouchingstories "to suit particular tastes, or inculcate favorite doctrines, "Ruskin would have the child "know his fairy tale accurately, and haveperfect joy or awe in the conception of it as if it were real; thus hewill always be exercising his power of grasping realities: but aconfused, careless, and discrediting tenure of the fiction will lead toas confused and careless reading of fact. " Still further, Ruskin defendsthe vulgarity, or commonness of language, found in many of the tales as"of a wholesome and harmless kind. It is not, for instance, gracefulEnglish, to say that a thought 'popped into Catherine's head'; but itnevertheless is far better, as an initiation into literary style, that achild should be told this than that 'a subject attracted Catherine'sattention. '" Finally, we cannot forbear adding one more quotation, from the mostdelightful of attacks upon the attackers of fairy tales, by MissRepplier: "That which is vital in literature or tradition, which hassurvived the obscurity and wreckage of the past, whether as legend, orballad, or mere nursery rhyme, has survived in right of some intrinsicmerit of its own, and will not be snuffed out of existence by any of ourprecautionary or hygienic measures. . . . Puss in Boots is one long recordof triumphant effrontery and deception. An honest and self-respectinglad would have explained to the king that he was not the Marquis ofCarabas at all; that he had no desire to profit by his cat's ingeniousfalsehoods, and no weak ambition to connect himself with thearistocracy. Such a hero would be a credit to our modern schoolrooms, and lift a load of care from the shoulders of our modern critics. Onlythe children would have none of him, but would turn wistfully back tothose brave old tales which are their inheritance from a splendid past, and of which no hand shall rob them. " And upon this ultimate fact thatin literature the final decision rests with the audience appealed to, the discussion may end. _How to use fairy stories. _ Briefly, the whole matter may be summed upthus: _Know your story perfectly. Don't read it (unless you can't dobetter). Tell it--with all the graces of voice and action you cancommand. Tell it naturally and simply, as the folk-tellers did, not withstudied and elaborate "elocutionary" effects. Tell it again and again. If you do it well, the children will not soon tire of it--and they willindicate what you should do next!_ SUGGESTIONS (Books referred to by authors' name are listed in bibliography. ) The one important full-length discussion for teachers on the whole subject of the fairy tale is Kready's _A Study of Fairy Tales_. It is enthusiastic rather than severely critical, and that adds to its helpfulness. It has exhaustive bibliographies. The Ruskin quotations above are from his introduction to Taylor's _Grimm_; it may be found also in his collected works, in _On the Old Road_. Miss Repplier's "Battle of the Babies" in her _Essays in Miniature_ should be read entire. A thoroughly stimulating article is Brian Hooker's "Narrative and the Fairy Tale, " _Bookman_, Vol. XXXIII, pp. 389, 501; see also his "Types of Fairy Tales, " _Forum_, Vol. XL, p. 375. For the scientific phase start with Hartland's _Science of Fairy Tales_. For pedagogy see Adler, MacClintock, McMurry. 147 Many English folk tales have doubtless been lost because no one made a serious attempt to collect them until railroads, newspapers, and popular education had greatly changed the life of the English folk and destroyed many of the traditions. For the preservation of many folk tales that we have, English-speaking peoples are indebted to the scholarly antiquarian James Orchard Halliwell (afterwards Halliwell-Phillips, 1820-1889), who in the year 1842 edited a collection of _The Nursery Rhymes of England_ for the Percy Society. He followed it a few years later with _Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales_. They have long been regarded as the basic books in their field. These two collections were reprinted as _Nursery Rhymes and Tales_. This one-volume edition is the one referred to in the following pages. Halliwell should be remembered as the first person to collect in a scientific way the folk literature of England. He gathered these rhymes and tales from the mouths of the folk, from chapbooks, and from many other sources and endeavored to tell them as they had been told by the folk. "The Old Woman and Her Pig" is perhaps the most familiar of all nursery stories. It belongs to the type of story known as the "accumulative, " of which "The House That Jack Built" is the purest model. In such a story there is a constant repetition of the plot, with an addition or slight change at each repetition, until at the end there is a quick unwinding which carries us back to the initial situation and solves the difficulty with which the story started. Halliwell gives two versions of this particular story. It is so widespread that many slight variations would be expected in successful retellings of it. The traditional version which follows seems to be the favorite with primary teachers. It introduces at the sixth stage the attractive rhyme "I see by the moonlight, etc. , " which originally formed part of another nursery tale. THE OLD WOMAN AND HER PIG Once upon a time, an old woman was sweeping her little house, when, toher great joy, she found a silver sixpence. "What, " said she, "shall I do with this little sixpence? I think I willgo to market and buy a pig. " So the next day, she went to market, andbought a nice little white pig. She tied a string to one of the pig'slegs, and began to drive him home. On the way, the old woman and her pig came to a stile, and she said, -- "Please, pig, get over the stile. " But the pig would not. Just then a little dog came trotting up, and the old woman said tohim, -- "Dog, dog, bite pig; Pig won't get over the stile, And I sha'n't get home to-night. " But the dog would not. So the old woman held up her stick, and said, -- "Stick, stick, beat dog; Dog won't bite pig; Pig won't get over the stile, And I sha'n't get home to-night. " But the stick would not. So the old woman gathered some bits of wood together to make a fire, andset them on fire, and then threw her stick into the fire, and said, -- "Fire, fire, burn stick; Stick won't beat dog; Dog won't bite pig; Pig won't get over the stile, And I sha'n't get home to-night. " But the fire would not. So the old woman fetched a pail of water that was standing near, andsaid, -- "Water, water, quench fire; Fire won't burn stick; Stick won't beat dog; Dog won't bite pig; Pig won't get over the stile, And I sha'n't get home to-night. " But the water would not. Then the old woman saw an ox coming; so she said, -- "Ox, ox, drink water; Water won't quench fire; Fire won't burn stick; Stick won't beat dog; Dog won't bite pig; Pig won't go. I see by the moonlight, It's long past midnight; Time pig and I were home an hour and a half ago. " But the ox would not. So the old woman turned round, and saw a butcher, and she said, -- "Butcher, butcher, kill ox; Ox won't drink water; Water won't quench fire; Fire won't burn stick; Stick won't beat dog; Dog won't bite pig; Pig won't go. I see by the moonlight, It's long past midnight; Time pig and I were home an hour and a half ago. " But the butcher would not. So the old woman took a rope out of her pocket, and said, -- "Rope, rope, hang butcher; Butcher won't kill ox; Ox won't drink water; Water won't quench fire; Fire won't burn stick; Stick won't beat dog; Dog won't bite pig; Pig won't go. I see by the moonlight, It's long past midnight; Time pig and I were home an hour and a half ago. " But the rope would not. Just then a large brown mouse ran across the meadow, and she said, -- "Mouse, mouse, gnaw rope; Rope won't hang butcher; Butcher won't kill ox; Ox won't drink water; Water won't quench fire; Fire won't burn stick; Stick won't beat dog; Dog won't bite pig; Pig won't go. I see by the moonlight, It's long past midnight; Time pig and I were home an hour and a half ago. " "Yes, " said the mouse, "I will if you will give me some cheese. " So the old woman put her hand in her pocket, and found a nice piece ofcheese; and when the mouse had eaten it, The mouse began to gnaw the rope, The rope began to hang the butcher, The butcher began to kill the ox, The ox began to drink the water, The water began to quench the fire, The fire began to burn the stick, The stick began to beat the dog, The dog began to bite the pig, And the pig began to go. But what time the old woman and her pig got home, you, nor I, nor nobodyknows. 148 Teachers and parents owe a greater debt of gratitude to Joseph Jacobs than to any other modern student of folklore. He was born in Australia in 1854, spent most of his life in scholarly pursuits in England, and died in America in 1916. In his six volumes of English, Celtic, Indian, and European fairy tales he gave the world versions of its best known and most representative folk stories in a form suited to children while remaining true in all essentials to the original oral versions of the folk. This combination of scientific accuracy and literary workmanship is very rare. In the introductions and notes to these various volumes may be found a wealth of information which the general reader can understand without the necessity of special training in the science of folklore. And best of all, these volumes can be had at prices that are comparatively cheap. The following story of "Henny-Penny" is given in the fine version by Joseph Jacobs in his _English Fairy Tales_. He heard it as a child in Australia and he thinks "the fun consists in the avoidance of all pronouns, which results in jawbreaking sentences. " This story is also very familiar in the Halliwell version called "Chicken-Licken, " and there are numerous European parallels. HENNY-PENNY One day Henny-penny was picking up corn in the cornyardwhen--whack!--something hit her upon the head. "Goodness gracious me!"said Henny-penny; "the sky's a-going to fall; I must go and tell theking. " So she went along, and she went along, and she went along till she metCocky-locky. "Where are you going, Henny-penny?" says Cocky-locky. "Oh!I'm going to tell the king the sky's a-falling, " says Henny-penny. "MayI come with you?" says Cocky-locky. "Certainly, " says Henny-penny. SoHenny-penny and Cocky-locky went to tell the king the sky was a-falling. They went along, and they went along, and they went along, till they metDucky-daddles. "Where are you going to, Henny-penny and Cocky-locky?"says Ducky-daddles. "Oh! we're going to tell the king the sky'sa-falling, " said Henny-penny and Cocky-locky. "May I come with you?"says Ducky-daddles. "Certainly, " said Henny-penny and Cocky-locky. SoHenny-penny, Cocky-locky, and Ducky-daddles went to tell the king thesky was a-falling. So they went along, and they went along, and they went along, till theymet Goosey-poosey. "Where are you going to, Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, and Ducky-daddles?" said Goosey-poosey. "Oh! we're going to tell theking the sky's a-falling, " said Henny-penny and Cocky-locky andDucky-daddles. "May I come with you?" said Goosey-poosey. "Certainly, "said Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, and Ducky-daddles. So Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, and Goosey-poosey went to tell the king thesky was a-falling. So they went along, and they went along, and they went along, till theymet Turkey-lurkey. "Where are you going, Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, and Goosey-poosey?" says Turkey-lurkey. "Oh! we're goingto tell the king the sky's a-falling, " said Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, and Goosey-poosey. "May I come with you, Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, and Goosey-poosey?" said Turkey-lurkey. "Oh, certainly, Turkey-lurkey, " said Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, and Goosey-poosey. So Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey all went to tell the king the sky wasa-falling. So they went along, and they went along, and they went along, till theymet Foxy-woxy, and Foxy-woxy said to Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey: "Where are you going, Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, andTurkey-lurkey?" And Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey said to Foxy-woxy: "We're going to tellthe king the sky's a-falling. " "Oh! but this is not the way to the king, Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, andTurkey-lurkey, " says Foxy-woxy; "I know the proper way; shall I show ityou?" "Oh, certainly, Foxy-woxy, " said Henny-Penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey. So Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, Turkey-lurkey, and Foxy-woxyall went to tell the king the sky was a-falling. So they went along, and they went along, and they went along, till theycame to a narrow and dark hole. Now this was the door of Foxy-woxy'scave. But Foxy-woxy said to Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey: "This is the short way to the king'spalace; you'll soon get there if you follow me. I will go first and youcome after, Henny-Penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, andTurkey-lurkey. " "Why of course, certainly, without doubt, why not?" saidHenny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, andTurkey-lurkey. So Foxy-woxy went into his cave, and he didn't go very far, but turnedround to wait for Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey. So at last at first Turkey-lurkey wentthrough the dark hole into the cave. He hadn't got far when "Hrumph, "Foxy-woxy snapped off Turkey-lurkey's head and threw his body over hisleft shoulder. Then Goosey-poosey went in, and "Hrumph, " off went herhead and Goosey-poosey was thrown beside Turkey-lurkey. ThenDucky-daddles waddled down, and "Hrumph, " snapped Foxy-woxy, andDucky-daddles' head was off and Ducky-daddles was thrown alongsideTurkey-lurkey and Goosey-poosey. Then Cocky-locky strutted down into thecave, and he hadn't gone far when "Snap, Hrumph!" went Foxy-woxy andCocky-locky was thrown alongside of Turkey-lurkey, Goosey-poosey, andDucky-daddles. But Foxy-woxy had made two bites at Cocky-locky, and when the first snaponly hurt Cocky-locky, but didn't kill him, he called out toHenny-penny. But she turned tail and off she ran home, so she never toldthe king the sky was a-falling. 149 The favorite story of "Teeny-Tiny" is taken from Halliwell, who obtained it from oral tradition, and by whom it was, apparently, first put into print. "This simple tale, " he says, "seldom fails to rivet the attention of children, especially if well told. The last two words should be said loudly with a start. " Many modern story-tellers seem to prefer modified forms of this story, presumably owing to a feeling on their part that the bone and the churchyard have gruesome suggestions. Carolyn S. Bailey gives one of the best of these modified forms in her _Firelight Stories_, where the woman goes into a field instead of the churchyard, finds a hen at the foot of a tree, thinks this is a chance to have an egg for her breakfast, puts the hen in her reticule, goes home, puts the hen in her cupboard, and goes upstairs to take a nap. Of course the "teeny-tiny" goes in at every point. Substituting "hen" for "bone, " the story continues substantially as given below. TEENY-TINY Once upon a time there was a teeny-tiny woman lived in a teeny-tinyhouse in a teeny-tiny village. Now, one day this teeny-tiny woman put onher teeny-tiny bonnet, and went out of her teeny-tiny house to take ateeny-tiny walk. And when this teeny-tiny woman had gone a teeny-tinyway, she came to a teeny-tiny gate; so the teeny-tiny woman opened theteeny-tiny gate, and went into a teeny-tiny churchyard. And when thisteeny-tiny woman had got into the teeny-tiny churchyard, she saw ateeny-tiny bone on a teeny-tiny grave, and the teeny-tiny woman said toher teeny-tiny self, "This teeny-tiny bone will make me some teeny-tinysoup for my teeny-tiny supper. " So the teeny-tiny woman put theteeny-tiny bone into her teeny-tiny pocket, and went home to herteeny-tiny house. Now when the teeny-tiny woman got home to her teeny-tiny house, she wasa teeny-tiny tired; so she went up her teeny-tiny stairs to herteeny-tiny bed, and put the teeny-tiny bone into a teeny-tiny cupboard. And when this teeny-tiny woman had been to sleep a teeny-tiny time, shewas awakened by a teeny-tiny voice from the teeny-tiny cupboard, whichsaid: "GIVE ME MY BONE!" And this teeny-tiny woman was a teeny-tiny frightened, so she hid herteeny-tiny head under the teeny-tiny clothes and went to sleep again. And when she had been to sleep again a teeny-tiny time, the teeny-tinyvoice again cried out from the teeny-tiny cupboard a teeny-tiny louder, "GIVE ME MY BONE!" This made the teeny-tiny woman a teeny-tiny more frightened, so she hidher teeny-tiny head a teeny-tiny farther under the teeny-tiny clothes. And when the teeny-tiny woman had been to sleep again a teeny-tiny time, the teeny-tiny voice from the teeny-tiny cupboard said again ateeny-tiny louder, "GIVE ME MY BONE!" And this teeny-tiny woman was a teeny-tiny bit more frightened, but sheput her teeny-tiny head out of the teeny-tiny clothes, and said in herloudest teeny-tiny voice, "TAKE IT!" 150 The very old story that follows is taken from Halliwell, and is, according to Jacobs, scarcely more than a variant of "The Old Woman and Her Pig. " Like that story, "The Cat and the Mouse" appeals to small people by its pronounced rhythmical structure, accentuated by the rhyme which marks the transition to each new section, and by the "run" at the close. THE CAT AND THE MOUSE The cat and the mouse Played in the malt-house: The cat bit the mouse's tail off. "Pray, puss, give me my tail. " "No, " said the cat, "I'll not give you your tail till you go to the cowand fetch me some milk. " First she leapt, and then she ran, Till she came to the cow, and thus began: "Pray, cow, give me milk, that I may give cat milk, that cat may give memy own tail again. " "No, " said the cow, "I will give you no milk till you go to the farmerand fetch me some hay. " First she leapt, and then she ran, Till she came to the farmer, and thus began: "Pray, farmer, give me hay, that I may give cow hay, that cow may giveme milk, that I may give cat milk, that cat may give me my own tailagain. " "No, " said the farmer, "I'll give you no hay till you go to the butcherand fetch me some meat. " First she leapt, and then she ran, Till she came to the butcher, and thus began: "Pray, butcher, give me meat, that I may give farmer meat, that farmermay give me hay, that I may give cow hay, that cow may give me milk, that I may give cat milk, that cat may give me my own tail again. " "No, " said the butcher, "I'll give you no meat till you go to the bakerand fetch me some bread. " First she leapt, and then she ran, Till she came to the baker, and thus began: "Pray, baker, give me bread, that I may give butcher bread, that butchermay give me meat, that I may give farmer meat, that farmer may give mehay, that I may give cow hay, that cow may give me milk, that I may givecat milk, that cat may give me my own tail again. " "Yes, " said the baker, "I'll give you some bread, But if you eat my meal, I'll cut off your head. " Then the baker gave mouse bread, and mouse gave butcher bread, andbutcher gave mouse meat, and mouse gave farmer meat, and farmer gavemouse hay, and mouse gave cow hay, and cow gave mouse milk, and mousegave cat milk, and cat gave mouse her own tail again. 151 The following story is in the most familiar version of Halliwell's collection. Another much-used form of the story may be found in Lang's _Green Fairy Book_, in which the pigs are distinctly characterized and given the names of Browny, Whitey, and Blacky. Jacobs uses the Halliwell version in his _English Fairy Tales_, but prefixes to it an opening formula which seems to have been much in use by old story-tellers as a way of beginning almost any oral story for children: "Once upon a time when pigs spoke rhyme And monkeys chewed tobacco, And hens took snuff to make them tough, And ducks went quack, quack, quack, O!" THE STORY OF THE THREE LITTLE PIGS Once upon a time there was an old sow with three little pigs, and as shehad not enough to keep them, she sent them out to seek their fortune. The first that went off met a man with a bundle of straw, and said tohim: "Please, man, give me that straw to build me a house. " Which the man did, and the little pig built a house with it. Presentlycame along a wolf, and knocked at the door, and said: "Little pig, little pig, let me come in. " To which the pig answered: "No, no, by the hair of my chinny chin chin. " The wolf then answered to that: "Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in. " So he huffed, and he puffed, and he blew his house in, and ate up thelittle pig. The second little pig met a man with a bundle of furze and said: "Please, man, give me that furze to build a house. " Which the man did, and the pig built his house. Then along came thewolf, and said: "Little pig, little pig, let me come in. " "No, no, by the hair of my chinny chin chin. " "Then I'll puff, and I'll huff, and I'll blow your house in. " So he huffed, and he puffed, and he puffed, and he huffed, and at lasthe blew the house down, and he ate up the little pig. The third little pig met a man with a load of bricks, and said: "Please, man, give me those bricks to build a house with. " So the man gave him the bricks, and he built his house with them. So thewolf came, as he did to the other little pigs, and said: "Little pig, little pig, let me come in. " "No, no, by the hair on my chinny chin chin. " "Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in. " Well, he huffed, and he puffed, and he huffed and he puffed, and hepuffed and huffed; but he could _not_ get the house down. When he foundthat he could not, with all his huffing and puffing, blow the housedown, he said: "Little pig, I know where there is a nice field of turnips. " "Where?" said the little pig. "Oh, in Mr. Smith's Home-field, and if you will be ready to-morrowmorning I will call for you, and we will go together and get some fordinner. " "Very well, " said the little pig, "I will be ready. What time do youmean to go?" "Oh, at six o'clock. " Well, the little pig got up at five and got the turnips before the wolfcame (which he did about six), who said: "Little pig, are you ready?" The little pig said: "Ready! I have been and come back again, and got anice potful for dinner. " The wolf felt very angry at this, but thought that he would be _up to_the little pig somehow or other, so he said: "Little pig, I know where there is a nice apple-tree. " "Where?" said the pig. "Down at Merry-garden, " replied the wolf, "and if you will not deceiveme I will come for you at five o'clock tomorrow and we will go togetherand get some apples. " Well, the little pig bustled up the next morning at four o'clock, andwent off for the apples, hoping to get back before the wolf came; but hehad farther to go and had to climb the tree, so that just as he wascoming down from it, he saw the wolf coming, which, as you may suppose, frightened him very much. When the wolf came up he said: "Little pig, what! are you here before me? Are they nice apples?" "Yes, very, " said the little pig. "I will throw you down one. " And he threw it so far that, while the wolf was gone to pick it up, thelittle pig jumped down and ran home. The next day the wolf came againand said to the little pig: "Little pig, there is a fair at Shanklin this afternoon. Will you go?" "Oh, yes, " said the pig, "I will go. What time shall you be ready?" "At three, " said the wolf. So the little pig went off before the time asusual, and got to the fair and bought a butter-churn, which he was goinghome with, when he saw the wolf coming. Then he could not tell what todo. So he got into the churn to hide, and by so doing turned it round, and it rolled down the hill with the pig in it, which frightened thewolf so much that he ran home without going to the fair. He went to thelittle pig's house and told him how frightened he had been by a greatround thing which came down the hill past him. Then the little pig said: "Hah, I frightened you, then. I had been to the fair and bought abutter-churn, and when I saw you, I got into it and rolled down thehill. " Then the wolf was very angry indeed, and declared he _would_ eat up thelittle pig and that he would get down the chimney after him. When thelittle pig saw what he was about, he hung on the pot full of water andmade up a blazing fire, and, just as the wolf was coming down, took offthe cover, and in fell the wolf; so the little pig put on the coveragain in an instant, boiled him up, and ate him for supper, and livedhappy ever afterwards. 152 How great calamities sometimes grow out of small causes is illustrated in an old proverbial saying of Poor Richard (see No. 137). The favorite English folk-tale version of this theme, taken from Halliwell, is given below. It takes the form of an accumulative droll, or comic story. The overwhelming catastrophe at the end is so complete and so unexpected that it has a decidedly humorous effect. TITTY MOUSE AND TATTY MOUSE Titty Mouse and Tatty Mouse both lived in a house, Titty Mouse went a leasing and Tatty Mouse went a leasing, So they both went a leasing. Titty Mouse leased an ear of corn, and Tatty Mouse leased an ear of corn, So they both leased an ear of corn. Titty Mouse made a pudding, and Tatty Mouse made a pudding, So they both made a pudding. And Tatty Mouse put her pudding into the pot to boil, But when Titty went to put hers in, the pot tumbled over, and scalded her to death. Then Tatty sat down and wept; then a three-legged stool said: "Tatty, why do you weep?" "Titty's dead, " said Tatty, "and so I weep. " "Then, "said the stool, "I'll hop, " so the stool hopped. Then a broom in the corner of the room said: "Stool, why do you hop?""Oh!" said the stool, "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, and so I hop. ""Then, " said the broom, "I'll sweep, " so the broom began to sweep. "Then, " said the door, "Broom, why do you sweep?" "Oh!" said the broom, "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, and the stool hops, and so I sweep. ""Then, " said the door, "I'll jar, " so the door jarred. "Then, " said the window, "Door, why do you jar?" "Oh, " said the door, "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, and so I jar. " "Then, " said the window, "I'll creak, " so the window creaked. Now therewas an old form outside the house, and when the window creaked, the formsaid: "Window, why do you creak?" "Oh!" said the window, "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, and the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, the doorjars, and so I creak. " "Then, " said the old form, "I'll run round the house"; then the old formran round the house. Now there was a fine large walnut-tree growing bythe cottage, and the tree said to the form: "Form, why do you run roundthe house?" "Oh!" said the form, "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, and thestool hops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, and so I run round the house. " "Then, " said the walnut-tree, "I'll shed my leaves, " so the walnut-treeshed all its beautiful green leaves. Now there was a little bird perchedon one of the boughs of the tree, and when all the leaves fell, it said:"Walnut-tree, why do you shed your leaves?" "Oh!" said the tree, "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, the old form runs round the house, and so I shed my leaves. " "Then, " said the little bird, "I'll moult all my feathers, " so hemoulted all his pretty feathers. Now there was a little girl walkingbelow, carrying a jug of milk for her brothers' and sisters' supper, andwhen she saw the poor little bird moult all its feathers, she said:"Little bird, why do you moult all your feathers?" "Oh!" said the littlebird, "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, the stool hops, and the broomsweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, the old form runs roundthe house, the walnut-tree sheds its leaves, and so I moult all myfeathers. " "Then, " said the little girl, "I'll spill the milk, " so she dropt thepitcher and spilt the milk. Now there was an old man just by on the topof a ladder thatching a rick, and when he saw the little girl spill themilk, he said: "Little girl, what do you mean by spilling themilk?--your little brothers and sisters must go without their supper. "Then said the little girl: "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, the stoolhops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, theold form runs round the house, the walnut-tree sheds all its leaves, thelittle bird moults all its feathers, and so I spill the milk. " "Oh!" said the old man, "then I'll tumble off the ladder and break myneck, " so he tumbled off the ladder and broke his neck; and when the oldman broke his neck, the great walnut-tree fell down with a crash andupset the old form and house, and the house falling knocked the windowout, and the window knocked the door down, and the door upset the broom, and the broom upset the stool, and poor little Tatty Mouse was buriedbeneath the ruins. 153 "The Story of the Three Bears" is perhaps the only instance in which a piece of literature by a known English author is found among accepted folk tales. It appeared in Robert Southey's rambling miscellany, _The Doctor_ (1837). He may have taken it from an old tale, but no amount of investigation has located any certain source. In the most familiar versions the naughty old woman gives place to a little girl whose name is Goldenhair, Goldilocks, Silverhair, or Silverlocks. The point to the story is lessened by the change, but the popularity of these modifications seems to suggest that children prefer to have the ill-mannered old woman turned into an attractive little girl. Southey apparently was delighted with efforts to bring his story into any form more pleasing to the folk, and we find his son-in-law saying that he was especially pleased with a versification "by G. N. And published especially for the amusement of 'little people' lest in the volumes of _The Doctor_ it should 'escape their sight. '" However, it would appear that teachers at least should know this masterpiece in the only form in which its author put it. To that end this version of "The Three Bears" follows Southey with the change of a single word. At the head of the story he placed these lines from Gascoyne: "A tale which may content the minds Of learned men and grave philosophers. " THE STORY OF THE THREE BEARS ROBERT SOUTHEY [Transcriber's Note: For this story, different sized text was used to indicate the size of the different bears' voices. The largest text has been denote by use of the ~ symbol and the smallest text has been denoted by use of the + symbol. ] Once upon a time there were Three Bears who lived together in a house oftheir own in a wood. One of them was a Little, Small, Wee Bear; and onewas a Middle-sized Bear, and the other was a Great, Huge Bear. They hadeach a pot for their porridge; a little pot for the Little, Small, WeeBear; and a middle-sized pot for the Middle Bear; and a great pot forthe Great, Huge Bear. And they had each a chair to sit in; a littlechair for the Little, Small, Wee Bear; and a middle-sized chair for theMiddle Bear; and a great chair for the Great, Huge Bear. And they hadeach a bed to sleep in; a little bed for the Little, Small, Wee Bear;and a middle-sized bed for the Middle Bear; and a great bed for theGreat, Huge Bear. One day after they had made the porridge for their breakfast and pouredit into their porridge-pots, they walked out into the wood while theporridge was cooling, that they might not burn their mouths by beginningtoo soon to eat it. And while they were walking, a little old Woman cameto the house. She could not have been a good, honest old Woman; forfirst she looked in at the window and then she peeped in at the keyhole;and seeing nobody in the house, she lifted the latch. The door was notfastened, because the Bears were good Bears, who did nobody any harm andnever suspected that anybody would harm them. So the little old Womanopened the door and went in, and well pleased she was when she saw theporridge on the table. If she had been a good little old Woman, shewould have waited till the Bears came home, and then perhaps they wouldhave asked her to breakfast, for they were good Bears--a little rough orso, as the manner of Bears is, but for all that very good-natured andhospitable. But she was an impudent, bad old Woman, and set abouthelping herself. So first she tasted the porridge of the Great, Huge Bear, and that wastoo hot for her; and she said a bad word about that. And then she tastedthe porridge of the Middle Bear, and that was too cold for her; and shesaid a bad word about that too. And then she went to the porridge of theLittle, Small, Wee Bear, and tasted that; and that was neither too hotnor too cold, but just right; and she liked it so well that she ate itall up. But the naughty old Woman said a bad word about the littleporridge-pot because it did not hold enough for her. Then the little old Woman sat down in the chair of the Great, Huge Bear, and that was too hard for her. And then she sat down in the chair of theMiddle Bear, and that was too soft for her. And then she sat down in thechair of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, and that was neither too hard nortoo soft, but just right. So she seated herself in it, and there she sattill the bottom of the chair came out, and down she came, plump upon theground. And the naughty old Woman said a wicked word about that too. Then the little old Woman went upstairs into the bed-chamber in whichthe three Bears slept. And first she lay down upon the bed of the Great, Huge Bear; but that was too high at the head for her. And next she laydown upon the bed of the Middle Bear, and that was too high at the footfor her. And then she lay down upon the bed of the Little, Small, WeeBear, and that was neither too high at the head nor at the foot, butjust right. So she covered herself up comfortably and lay there till shefell fast asleep. By this time the Three Bears thought their porridge would be coolenough, so they came home to breakfast. Now the little old Woman hadleft the spoon of the Great, Huge Bear standing in his porridge. "~SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE!~" said the Great, Huge Bear, in hisgreat, rough, gruff voice. And when the Middle Bear looked at his, hesaw that the spoon was standing in it too. They were wooden spoons; ifthey had been silver ones, the naughty old Woman would have put them inher pocket. "SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE!" said the Middle Bear, in his middlevoice. Then the Little, Small, Wee Bear looked at his, and there was the spoonin the porridge-pot, but the porridge was all gone. "+SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE, AND HAS EATEN IT ALL UP!+" said theLittle, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice. Upon this the Three Bears, seeing that some one had entered their houseand eaten up the Little, Small, Wee Bear's breakfast, began to lookabout them. Now the little old Woman had not put the hard cushionstraight when she rose from the chair of the Great, Huge Bear. "~SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR!~" said the Great, Huge Bear, inhis great, rough, gruff voice. And the little old Woman had squatted down the soft cushion of theMiddle Bear. "SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR!" said the Middle Bear, in hismiddle voice. And you know what the little old Woman had done to the third chair. "+SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR AND HAS SAT THE BOTTOM OUT OFIT!+" said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice. Then the three Bears thought it necessary that they should make furthersearch; so they went upstairs into their bed-chamber. Now the little oldWoman had pulled the pillow of the Great, Huge Bear out of its place. "~SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED!~" said the Great, Huge Bear, in hisgreat, rough, gruff voice. And the little old Woman had pulled the bolster of the Middle Bear outof its place. "SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED!" said the Middle Bear, in his middlevoice. And when the Little, Small, Wee Bear came to look at his bed, there wasthe bolster in its right place, and the pillow in its place upon thebolster; and upon the pillow was the little old Woman's ugly, dirtyhead, --which was not in its place, for she had no business there. "+SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED, --AND HERE SHE IS!+" said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice. The little old Woman had heard in her sleep the great, rough, gruffvoice of the Great, Huge Bear; but she was so fast asleep that it was nomore to her than the roaring of wind or the rumbling of thunder. And shehad heard the middle voice of the Middle Bear, but it was only as if shehad heard some one speaking in a dream. But when she heard the little, small, wee voice of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, it was so sharp and soshrill that it awakened her at once. Up she started; and when she sawthe Three Bears on one side of the bed, she tumbled herself out at theother and ran to the window. Now the window was open, because the Bears, like good, tidy Bears as they were, always opened their bed-chamberwindow when they got up in the morning. Out the little old Woman jumped;and whether she broke her neck in the fall, or ran into the wood and waslost there, or found her way out of the wood and was taken up by theconstable and sent to the House of Correction for a vagrant, as she was, I cannot tell. But the Three Bears never saw anything more of her. 154 A noodle story is a droll, or comic story, that follows the fortunes of very simple or stupid characters. There are many noodle stories among the favorites of the folk, and the three immediately following are among the best known. This version of "The Three Sillies" was collected from oral tradition in Suffolk, England. In the original the dangerous tool was an ax, but the collector informed Mr. Hartland, in whose _English Fairy and Folk Tales_ it is reprinted, that she had found it was really "a great big wooden mallet, as some one had left sticking there when they'd been _making-up_ the beer. " This change, following the example of Jacobs, is made in the text of the story. This particular droll is widespread. Grimms' "Clever Elsie" is the same story, and a French version, "The Six Sillies, " is in Lang's _Red Fairy Book_. A very fine Italian version, called "Bastienelo, " is given in Crane's _Italian Popular Tales_. The tendency of people to "borrow trouble" is so universal that stories illustrating its ludicrous consequences have always had wide appeal. Some details of these variants are due to local environments. For instance, in the Italian story wine takes the place of beer, and it has been pointed out that there are "borrowing trouble" stories found in New York and Ohio in which the thing feared is the heavy iron door closing the mouth of the oven which in pioneer days was built in by the side of the fireplace. =THE THREE SILLIES= Once upon a time there was a farmer and his wife who had one daughter, and she was courted by a gentleman. Every evening he used to come andsee her, and stop to supper at the farmhouse, and the daughter used tobe sent down into the cellar to draw the beer for supper. So one eveningshe had gone down to draw the beer, and she happened to look up at theceiling while she was drawing, and she saw a mallet stuck in one of thebeams. It must have been there a long, long time, but somehow or othershe had never noticed it before, and she began a-thinking. And shethought it was very dangerous to have that mallet there, for she said toherself: "Suppose him and me was to be married, and we was to have ason, and he was to grow up to be a man, and come down into the cellar todraw the beer, like as I'm doing now, and the mallet was to fall on hishead and kill him, what a dreadful thing it would be!" And she put downthe candle and the jug, and sat herself down and began a-crying. Well, they began to wonder upstairs how it was that she was so longdrawing the beer, and her mother went down to see after her, and shefound her sitting on the settle crying, and the beer running over thefloor. "Why, whatever is the matter?" said her mother. "Oh, mother!" says she, "look at that horrid mallet! Suppose we was tobe married, and was to have a son, and he was to grow up, and was tocome down to the cellar to draw the beer, and the mallet was to fall onhis head and kill him, what a dreadful thing it would be!" "Dear, dear! what a dreadful thing it would be!" said the mother, andshe sat her down aside of the daughter and started a-crying too. Then after a bit the father began to wonder that they didn't come back, and he went down into the cellar to look after them himself, and therethey two sat a-crying, and the beer running all over the floor. "Whatever is the matter?" says he. "Why, " says the mother, "look at that horrid mallet. Just suppose, ifour daughter and her sweetheart was to be married, and was to have ason, and he was to grow up, and was to come down into the cellar to drawthe beer, and the mallet was to fall on his head and kill him, what adreadful thing it would be!" "Dear, dear, dear! so it would!" said the father, and he sat himselfdown aside of the other two, and started a-crying. Now the gentleman got tired of stopping up in the kitchen by himself, and at last he went down into the cellar too, to see what they wereafter; and there they three sat a-crying side by side, and the beerrunning all over the floor. And he ran straight and turned the tap. Thenhe said: "Whatever are you three doing, sitting there crying, andletting the beer run all over the floor?" "Oh!" says the father, "look at that horrid mallet! Suppose you and ourdaughter was to be married, and was to have a son, and he was to growup, and was to come down into the cellar to draw the beer, and themallet was to fall on his head and kill him!" And then they all starteda-crying worse than before. But the gentleman burst out a-laughing, and reached up and pulled outthe mallet, and then he said: "I've traveled many miles, and I never metthree such big sillies as you three before; and now I shall start out onmy travels again, and when I can find three bigger sillies than youthree, then I'll come back and marry your daughter. " So he wished themgood-bye, and started off on his travels, and left them all cryingbecause the girl had lost her sweetheart. Well, he set out, and he traveled a long way, and at last he came to awoman's cottage that had some grass growing on the roof. And the womanwas trying to get her cow to go up a ladder to the grass, and the poorthing durst not go. So the gentleman asked the woman what she was doing. "Why, lookye, " she said, "look at all that beautiful grass. I'm going toget the cow on to the roof to eat it. She'll be quite safe, for I shalltie a string round her neck, and pass it down the chimney, and tie it tomy wrist as I go about the house, so she can't fall off without myknowing it. " "Oh, you poor silly!" said the gentleman, "you should cut the grass andthrow it down to the cow!" But the woman thought it was easier to getthe cow up the ladder than to get the grass down, so she pushed her andcoaxed her and got her up, and tied a string round her neck, and passedit down the chimney, and fastened it to her own wrist. And the gentlemanwent on his way, but he hadn't gone far when the cow tumbled off theroof, and hung by the string tied round her neck, and it strangled her. And the weight of the cow tied to her wrist pulled the woman up thechimney, and she stuck fast half-way and was smothered in the soot. Well, that was one big silly. And the gentleman went on and on, and he went to an inn to stop thenight, and they were so full at the inn that they had to put him in adouble-bedded room, and another traveller was to sleep in the other bed. The other man was a very pleasant fellow, and they got very friendlytogether; but in the morning, when they were both getting up, thegentleman was surprised to see the other hang his trousers on the knobsof the chest of drawers and run across the room and try to jump intothem, and he tried over and over again, and couldn't manage it; and thegentleman wondered whatever he was doing it for. At last he stopped andwiped his face with his handkerchief. "Oh, dear, " he says, "I do thinktrousers are the most awkwardest kind of clothes that ever were. I can'tthink who could have invented such things. It takes me the best part ofan hour to get into mine every morning, and I get so hot! How do youmanage yours?" So the gentleman burst out a-laughing, and showed him howto put them on; and he was very much obliged to him, and said he nevershould have thought of doing it that way. So that was another big silly. Then the gentleman went on his travels again; and he came to a village, and outside the village there was a pond, and round the pond was a crowdof people. And they had got rakes, and brooms, and pitchforks, reachinginto the pond; and the gentleman asked what was the matter. "Why, " they said, "matter enough! Moon's tumbled into the pond, and wecan't rake her out anyhow!" So the gentleman burst out a-laughing, and told them to look up into thesky, and that it was only the shadow in the water. But they wouldn'tlisten to him, and abused him shamefully, and he got away as quick as hecould. So there was a whole lot of sillies bigger than the three sillies athome. So the gentleman turned back home again and married the farmer'sdaughter, and if they didn't live happy for ever after, that's nothingto do with you or me. 155 There seemed to be a feeling common among the folk that simple-minded persons were in the special care of Providence. Hence, sometimes the achievement of success beyond the power of wiser and cleverer individuals. "Lazy Jack" comes from the Halliwell collection. "The humor lies in the contrast between what Jack did and what anybody 'with sense' knows he ought to have done. " A parallel story is the Grimms' "Hans in Luck. " A most striking and popular Americanization of it is Sara Cone Bryant's "The Story of Epaminondas and His Auntie" in her _Stories to Tell to Children_. LAZY JACK Once upon a time there was a boy whose name was Jack, and he lived withhis mother on a dreary common. They were very poor, and the old womangot her living by spinning, but Jack was so lazy that he would donothing but bask in the sun in the hot weather and sit by the corner ofthe hearth in the winter time. His mother could not persuade him to doanything for her and was obliged at last to tell him that if he did notbegin to work for his porridge she would turn him out to get his livingas he could. This threat at length roused Jack, and he went out and hired himself forthe day to a neighboring farmer for a penny; but as he was coming home, never having had any money in his possession before, he lost it inpassing over a brook. "You stupid boy, " said his mother, "you shouldhave put it in your pocket. " "I'll do so another time, " replied Jack. The next day Jack went out again and hired himself to a cowkeeper, whogave him a jar of milk for his day's work. Jack took the jar and put itinto the large pocket of his jacket, spilling it all long before he gothome. "Dear me!" said the old woman; "you should have carried it on yourhead. " "I'll do so another time, " said Jack. The following day Jack hired himself again to a farmer, who agreed togive him a cream cheese for his services. In the evening Jack took thecheese and went home with it on his head. By the time he got home thecheese was completely spoilt, part of it being lost and part matted withhis hair. "You stupid lout, " said his mother, "you should have carriedit very carefully in your hands. " "I'll do so another time, " replied Jack. The day after this Jack again went out and hired himself to a baker, whowould give him nothing for his work but a large tomcat. Jack took thecat and began carrying it very carefully in his hands, but in a shorttime pussy scratched him so much that he was compelled to let it go. When he got home, his mother said to him: "You silly fellow, you shouldhave tied it with a string and dragged it along after you. " "I'll do so another time, " said Jack. The next day Jack hired himself to a butcher, who rewarded his labors bythe handsome present of a shoulder of mutton. Jack took the mutton, tiedit to a string, and trailed it along after him in the dirt, so that bythe time he had got home the meat was completely spoilt. His mother wasthis time quite out of patience with him, for the next day was Sunday, and she was obliged to content herself with cabbage for her dinner. "Youninney-hammer, " said she to her son, "you should have carried it on yourshoulder. " "I'll do so another time, " replied Jack. On the Monday Jack went once more and hired himself to a cattle-keeper, who gave him a donkey for his trouble. Although Jack was very strong, hefound some difficulty in hoisting the donkey on his shoulders, but atlast he accomplished it and began walking slowly home with his prize. Now it happened that in the course of his journey there lived a rich manwith his only daughter, a beautiful girl, but unfortunately deaf anddumb. She had never laughed in her life, and the doctors said she wouldnever recover till somebody made her laugh. This young lady happened tobe looking out of the window when Jack was passing with the donkey onhis shoulders, the legs sticking up in the air, and the sight was socomical and strange that she burst out into a great fit of laughter, andimmediately recovered her speech and hearing. Her father was overjoyed, and fulfilled his promise by marrying her to Jack, who was thus made arich gentleman. They lived in a large house, and Jack's mother livedwith them in great happiness until she died. 156 The following noodle story is from Halliwell as obtained from oral tradition in the west of England. It is a variant of the "Lazy Jack" type. THE STORY OF MR. VINEGAR Mr. And Mrs. Vinegar lived in a vinegar bottle. Now, one day when Mr. Vinegar was from home and Mrs. Vinegar, who was a very good housewife, was busily sweeping her house, an unlucky thump of the broom brought thewhole house clitter-clatter about her ears. In a paroxysm of grief sherushed forth to meet her husband. On seeing him she exclaimed, "Oh, Mr. Vinegar, Mr. Vinegar, we are ruined, we are ruined: I have knocked thehouse down, and it is all to pieces!" Mr. Vinegar then said: "My dear, let us see what can be done. Here isthe door; I will take it on my back, and we will go forth to seek ourfortune. " They walked all that day and at nightfall entered a thick forest. Theywere both excessively tired, and Mr. Vinegar said: "My love, I willclimb up into a tree, drag up the door, and you shall follow. " Heaccordingly did so, and they both stretched their weary limbs on thedoor, and fell fast asleep. In the middle of the night Mr. Vinegar was disturbed by the sound ofvoices beneath, and to his inexpressible dismay perceived that a partyof thieves were met to divide their booty. "Here, Jack, " said one, "here's five pounds for you; here, Bill, here's ten pounds for you;here, Bob, here's three pounds for you. " Mr. Vinegar could listen no longer; his terror was so intense that hetrembled most violently and shook down the door on their heads. Awayscampered the thieves, but Mr. Vinegar dared not quit his retreat tillbroad daylight. He then scrambled out of the tree and went to lift upthe door. What did he behold but a number of golden guineas! "Come down, Mrs. Vinegar, " he cried; "come down, I say; our fortune's made! Comedown, I say. " Mrs. Vinegar got down as fast as she could and saw the money with equaldelight. "Now, my dear, " said she, "I'll tell you what you shall do. There is a fair at the neighboring town; you shall take these fortyguineas and buy a cow. I can make butter and cheese, which you shallsell at market, and we shall then be able to live very comfortably. " Mr. Vinegar joyfully assents, takes the money, and goes off to the fair. When he arrived, he walked up and down, and at length saw a beautifulred cow. It was an excellent milker and perfect in every respect. "Oh, "thought Mr. Vinegar, "if I had but that cow, I should be the happiestman alive. " So he offers the forty guineas for the cow, and the ownerdeclaring that, as he was a friend, he'd oblige him, the bargain wasmade. Proud of his purchase, he drove the cow backwards and forwards toshow it. By-and-by he saw a man playing the bagpipes--_tweedle-dum, tweedle-dee_. The children followed him about, and he appeared to bepocketing money on all sides. "Well, " thought Mr. Vinegar, "if I had butthat beautiful instrument, I should be the happiest man alive--myfortune would be made. " So he went up to the man. "Friend, " says he, "what a beautiful instrument that is, and what a deal of money you mustmake. " "Why, yes, " said the man, "I make a great deal of money, to be sure, andit is a wonderful instrument. " "Oh!" cried Mr. Vinegar, "how I should like to possess it!" "Well, " said the man, "as you are a friend, I don't much mind partingwith it; you shall have it for that red cow. " "Done!" said the delighted Mr. Vinegar. So the beautiful red cow wasgiven for the bagpipes. He walked up and down with his purchase; but invain he attempted to play a tune, and instead of pocketing pence, theboys followed him hooting, laughing, and pelting. Poor Mr. Vinegar, his fingers grew very cold, and heartily ashamed andmortified, he was leaving the town, when he met a man with a fine thickpair of gloves. "Oh, my fingers are so very cold, " said Mr. Vinegar tohimself. "If I had but those beautiful gloves I should be the happiestman alive. " He went up to the man, and said to him: "Friend, you seem tohave a capital pair of gloves there. " "Yes, truly, " cried the man; "and my hands are as warm as possible thiscold November day. " "Well, " said Mr. Vinegar, "I should like to have them. " "What will you give?" said the man; "as you are a friend, I don't muchmind letting you have them for those bagpipes. " "Done!" cried Mr. Vinegar. He put on the gloves, and felt perfectlyhappy as he trudged homewards. At last he grew very tired, when he saw a man coming towards him with agood stout stick in his hand. "Oh, " said Mr. Vinegar, "that I but hadthat stick! I should then be the happiest man alive. " He accosted theman: "Friend! what a rare good stick you have got. " "Yes, " said the man; "I have used it for many a long mile, and a goodfriend it has been; but if you have a fancy for it, as you are a friend, I don't mind giving it to you for that pair of gloves. " Mr. Vinegar'shands were so warm, and his legs so tired, that he gladly exchanged. As he drew near to the wood where he had left his wife, he heard aparrot on a tree calling out his name: "Mr. Vinegar, you foolish man, you blockhead, you simpleton; you went to the fair and laid out all yourmoney in buying a cow. Not content with that, you changed it forbagpipes, on which you could not play and which were not worth one-tenthof the money. You fool, you--you had no sooner got the bagpipes than youchanged them for the gloves, which were not worth one-quarter of themoney; and when you had got the gloves, you changed them for a poormiserable stick; and now for your forty guineas, cow, bagpipes, andgloves, you have nothing to show but that poor miserable stick, whichyou might have cut in any hedge. " On this the bird laughed immoderately, and Mr. Vinegar, falling into a violent rage, threw the stick at itshead. The stick lodged in the tree, and he returned to his wife withoutmoney, cow, bagpipes, gloves, or stick, and she instantly gave him sucha sound cudgelling that she almost broke every bone in his skin. 157 One of the greatest favorites among nursery tales is the story of that Jack who showed "an inquiring mind, a great courage and enterprise, " and who climbed the ladder of fortune when he mounted his bean-stalk. The traditional versions of this story are nearly all crude and unsatisfactory, as are those of many of the English tales. Joseph Jacobs made a remarkably fine literary version in his _English Fairy Tales_ from memories of his Australian childhood. He materially shortens the story by omitting the fairy lady, who, he suggests, was put in "to prevent the tale becoming an encouragement to theft. " He also made Jack's character more consistent by making him more sympathetic and kind at the beginning and less of a "ne'er-do-well, " though the noodle element in the selling of the cow could not be eliminated. Andrew Lang, in his _Green Fairy Book_, gives an excellent version of the story in its most extended form. Both the versions mentioned introduce, when the giant comes in, the formula generally associated with "Jack the Giant Killer": "Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman, Be he alive, or be he dead, I'll grind his bones to make my bread. " The version chosen for use here contains the elements of the story most familiar to past generations and is probably as near the commoner oral traditions as it is possible to secure. It is taken from Miss Mulock's _The Fairy Book_, a very fine selection of tales, first published in 1863, and still widely used. Miss Muloch (Dinah Maria Craik, 1826-1887) is best known as the author of the popular novel _John Halifax, Gentleman_. JACK AND THE BEAN-STALK In the days of King Alfred there lived a poor woman, whose cottage wasin a remote country village, many miles from London. She had been awidow some years, and had an only child named Jack, whom she indulged somuch that he never paid the least attention to anything she said, butwas indolent, careless, and extravagant. His follies were not owing to abad disposition, but to his mother's foolish partiality. By degrees hespent all that she had--scarcely anything remained but a cow. One day, for the first time in her life, she reproached him: "Cruel, cruel boy! you have at last brought me to beggary. I have not moneyenough to purchase even a bit of bread; nothing now remains to sell butmy poor cow! I am sorry to part with her; it grieves me sadly, but wecannot starve. " For a few minutes Jack felt remorse, but it was soon over, and he beganasking his mother to let him sell the cow at the next village, teasingher so much that she at last consented. As he was going along he met abutcher, who inquired why he was driving the cow from home. Jack repliedthat he was going to sell her. The butcher held some curious beans inhis hat; they were of various colors, and attracted Jack's attention. This did not pass unnoticed by the man, who, knowing Jack's easy temper, thought now was the time to take an advantage of it; and, determined notto let slip so good an opportunity, asked what was the price of the cow, offering at the same time all the beans in his hat for her. The sillyboy could not conceal the pleasure he felt at what he supposed so greatan offer. The bargain was struck instantly, and the cow exchanged for afew paltry beans. Jack made the best of his way home, calling aloud tohis mother before he reached the door, thinking to surprise her. When she saw the beans, and heard Jack's account, her patience quiteforsook her. She tossed the beans out of the window, where they fell onthe garden-bed below. Then she threw her apron over her head, and criedbitterly. Jack attempted to console her, but in vain, and, not havinganything to eat, they both went supperless to bed. Jack awoke early in the morning, and seeing something uncommon darkeningthe window of his bed-chamber, ran down stairs into the garden, where hefound some of the beans had taken root and sprung up surprisingly. Thestalks were of an immense thickness, and had twined together until theyformed a ladder like a chain, and so high that the top appeared to belost in the clouds. Jack was an adventurous lad; he determined to climb up to the top, andran to tell his mother, not doubting but that she would be equallypleased with himself. She declared he should not go; said it would breakher heart if he did; entreated and threatened, but all in vain. Jack setout, and after climbing for some hours reached the top of thebean-stalk, quite exhausted. Looking around, he found himself in astrange country. It appeared to be a barren desert; not a tree, shrub, house, or living creature was to be seen; here and there were scatteredfragments of stone, and at unequal distances small heaps of earth wereloosely thrown together. Jack seated himself pensively upon a block of stone and thought of hismother. He reflected with sorrow upon his disobedience in climbing thebean-stalk against her will, and concluded that he must die of hunger. However, he walked on, hoping to see a house where he might begsomething to eat and drink. He did not find it; but he saw at a distancea beautiful lady walking all alone. She was elegantly clad, and carrieda white wand, at the top of which sat a peacock of pure gold. Jack, who was a gallant fellow, went straight up to her, when, with abewitching smile, she asked him how he came there. He told her all aboutthe bean-stalk. The lady answered him by a question, "Do you rememberyour father, young man?" "No, madam; but I am sure there is some mystery about him, for when Iname him to my mother she always begins to weep and will tell menothing. " "She dare not, " replied the lady, "but I can and will. For know, youngman, that I am a fairy, and was your father's guardian. But fairies arebound by laws as well as mortals; and by an error of mine I lost mypower for a term of years, so that I was unable to succor your fatherwhen he most needed it, and he died. " Here the fairy looked so sorrowfulthat Jack's heart warmed to her, and he begged her earnestly to tell himmore. "I will; only you must promise to obey me in everything, or you willperish yourself. " Jack was brave, and, besides, his fortunes were so bad they could notwell be worse, --so he promised. The fairy continued: "Your father, Jack, was a most excellent, amiable, generous man. He had a good wife, faithful servants, plenty of money;but he had one misfortune--a false friend. This was a giant, whom he hadsuccored in misfortune, and who returned his kindness by murdering himand seizing on all his property; also making your mother take a solemnoath that she would never tell you anything about your father, or hewould murder both her and you. Then he turned her off with you in herarms, to wander about the wide world as she might. I could not help her, as my power only returned on the day you went to sell your cow. "It was I, " added the fairy, "who impelled you to take the beans, whomade the bean-stalk grow, and inspired you with the desire to climb upit to this strange country; for it is here the wicked giant lives whowas your father's destroyer. It is you who must avenge him, and rid theworld of a monster who never will do anything but evil. I will assistyou. You may lawfully take possession of his house and all his riches, for everything he has belonged to your father, and is therefore yours. Now, farewell! Do not let your mother know you are acquainted with yourfather's history; this is my command, and if you disobey me you willsuffer for it. Now go. " Jack asked where he was to go. "Along the direct road, till you see the house where the giant lives. You must then act according to your own just judgment, and I will guideyou if any difficulty arises. Farewell!" She bestowed on the youth a benignant smile, and vanished. Jack pursued his journey. He walked on till after sunset, when, to hisgreat joy, he espied a large mansion. A plain-looking woman was at thedoor. He accosted her, begging she would give him a morsel of bread anda night's lodging. She expressed the greatest surprise, and said it wasquite uncommon to see a human being near their house; for it was wellknown that her husband was a powerful giant, who would never eatanything but human flesh, if he could possibly get it; that he wouldwalk fifty miles to procure it, usually being out the whole day for thatpurpose. This account greatly terrified Jack, but still he hoped to elude thegiant, and therefore he again entreated the woman to take him in for onenight only, and hide him where she thought proper. She at last sufferedherself to be persuaded, for she was of a compassionate and generousdisposition, and took him into the house. First, they entered a finelarge hall, magnificently furnished; they then passed through severalspacious rooms, in the same style of grandeur; but all appeared forsakenand desolate. A long gallery came next, it was very dark, just lightenough to show that instead of a wall on one side, there was a gratingof iron which parted off a dismal dungeon, from whence issued the groansof those victims whom the cruel giant reserved in confinement for hisown voracious appetite. Poor Jack was half dead with fear, and would have given the world tohave been with his mother again, for he now began to doubt if he shouldever see her more; he even mistrusted the good woman, and thought shehad let him into the house for no other purpose than to lock him upamong the unfortunate people in the dungeon. However, she bade Jack sitdown, and gave him plenty to eat and drink; and he, not seeing anythingto make him uncomfortable, soon forgot his fear, and was just beginningto enjoy himself, when he was startled by a loud knocking at the outerdoor, which made the whole house shake. "Ah! that's the giant; and if he sees you he will kill you and me too, "cried the poor woman, trembling all over. "What shall I do?" "Hide me in the oven, " cried Jack, now as bold as a lion at the thoughtof being face to face with his father's cruel murderer. So he crept intothe oven--for there was no fire near it--and listened to the giant'sloud voice and heavy step as he went up and down the kitchen scoldinghis wife. At last he seated himself at the table, and Jack, peepingthrough a crevice in the oven, was amazed to see what a quantity of foodhe devoured. It seemed as if he never would have done eating anddrinking; but he did at last, and, leaning back, called to his wife in avoice like thunder: "Bring me my hen!" She obeyed, and placed upon the table a very beautiful live hen. "Lay!" roared the giant, and the hen laid immediately an egg of solidgold. "Lay another!" and every time the giant said this the hen laid a largeregg than before. He amused himself a long time with his hen, and then sent his wife tobed, while he fell asleep by the fireside, and snored like the roaringof cannon. As soon as he was asleep Jack crept out of the oven, seized the hen, andran off with her. He got safely out of the house, and finding his wayalong the road he had come, reached the top of the bean-stalk, which hedescended in safety. His mother was overjoyed to see him. She thought he had come to some illend. "Not a bit of it, mother. Look here!" and he showed her the hen. "Nowlay!" and the hen obeyed him as readily as the giant, and laid as manygolden eggs as he desired. These eggs being sold, Jack and his mother got plenty of money, and forsome months lived very happily together; till Jack got another greatlonging to climb the bean-stalk and carry away some more of the giant'sriches. He had told his mother of his adventure, but had been verycareful not to say a word about his father. He thought of his journeyagain and again, but still he could not summon resolution enough tobreak it to his mother, being well assured that she would endeavor toprevent his going. However, one day he told her boldly that he must takeanother journey up the bean-stalk. She begged and prayed him not tothink of it, and tried all in her power to dissuade him. She told himthat the giant's wife would certainly know him again, and that the giantwould desire nothing better than to get him into his power, that hemight put him to a cruel death in order to be revenged for the loss ofhis hen. Jack, finding that all his arguments were useless, ceasedspeaking, though resolved to go at all events. He had a dress preparedwhich would disguise him, and something to color his skin. He thoughtit impossible for any one to recollect him in this dress. A few mornings after, he rose very early, and, unperceived by any one, climbed the bean-stalk a second time. He was greatly fatigued when hereached the top, and very hungry. Having rested some time on one of thestones, he pursued his journey to the giant's mansion, which he reachedlate in the evening. The woman was at the door as before. Jack addressedher, at the same time telling her a pitiful tale, and requesting thatshe would give him some victuals and drink, and also a night's lodging. She told him (what he knew before very well) about her husband's being apowerful and cruel giant, and also that she had one night admitted apoor, hungry, friendless boy; that the little ungrateful fellow hadstolen one of the giant's treasures; and ever since that her husband hadbeen worse than before, using her very cruelly, and continuallyupbraiding her with being the cause of his misfortune. Jack felt sorry for her, but confessed nothing, and did his best topersuade her to admit him, but found it a very hard task. At last sheconsented, and as she led the way, Jack observed that everything wasjust as he had found it before. She took him into the kitchen, and afterhe had done eating and drinking, she hid him in an old lumber-closet. The giant returned at the usual time, and walked in so heavily that thehouse was shaken to its foundation. He seated himself by the fire, andsoon after exclaimed, "Wife, I smell fresh meat!" The wife replied it was the crows, which had brought a piece of raw meatand left it at the top of the house. While supper was preparing, thegiant was very ill-tempered and impatient, frequently lifting up hishand to strike his wife for not being quick enough. He was alsocontinually upbraiding her with the loss of his wonderful hen. At last, having ended his supper, he cried, "Give me something to amuseme--my harp or my money-bags. " "Which will you have, my dear?" said the wife humbly. "My money-bags, because they are the heaviest to carry, " thundered he. She brought them, staggering under the weight; two bags--one filled withnew guineas, and the other with new shillings. She emptied them out onthe table, and the giant began counting them in great glee. "Now you maygo to bed, you old fool. " So the wife crept away. Jack from his hiding-place watched the counting of the money, which heknew was his poor father's, and wished it was his own; it would give himmuch less trouble than going about selling the golden eggs. The giant, little thinking he was so narrowly observed, reckoned it all up, andthen replaced it in the two bags, which he tied up very carefully andput beside his chair, with his little dog to guard them. At last he fellasleep as before, and snored so loud that Jack compared his noise to theroaring of the sea in a high wind when the tide is coming in. At last Jack, concluding all secure, stole out, in order to carry offthe two bags of money; but just as he laid his hands upon one of them, the little dog, which he had not seen before, started from under thegiant's chair and barked most furiously. Instead of endeavoring toescape, Jack stood still, though expecting his enemy to awake everyinstant. Contrary, however, to his expectation, the giant continued in asound sleep, and Jack, seeing a piece of meat, threw it to the dog, whoat once ceased barking and began to devour it. So Jack carried off thebags, one on each shoulder, but they were so heavy that it took him twowhole days to descend the bean-stalk and get back to his mother's door. When he came he found the cottage deserted. He ran from one room toanother, without being able to find any one. He then hastened into thevillage, hoping to see some of the neighbors who could inform him wherehe could find his mother. An old woman at last directed him to aneighboring house, where she was ill of a fever. He was greatly shockedat finding her apparently dying, and blamed himself bitterly as thecause of it all. However, at sight of her dear son, the poor womanrevived, and slowly recovered health. Jack gave her his two money-bags. They had the cottage rebuilt and well furnished, and lived happier thanthey had ever done before. For three years Jack heard no more of the bean-stalk, but he could notforget it, though he feared making his mother unhappy. It was in vainendeavoring to amuse himself; he became thoughtful, and would arise atthe first dawn of day, and sit looking at the bean-stalk for hourstogether. His mother saw that something preyed upon his mind, and endeavored todiscover the cause; but Jack knew too well what the consequence would beshould she succeed. He did his utmost, therefore, to conquer the greatdesire he had for another journey up the bean-stalk. Finding, however, that his inclination grew too powerful for him, he began to make secretpreparations for his journey. He got ready a new disguise, better andmore complete than the former; and when summer came, on the longest dayhe woke as soon as it was light, and, without telling his mother, ascended the bean-stalk. He found, the road, journey, etc. , much as itwas on the two former times. He arrived at the giant's mansion in theevening, and found the wife standing, as usual, at the door. Jack haddisguised himself so completely that she did not appear to have theleast recollection of him; however, when he pleaded hunger and povertyin order to gain admittance, he found it very difficult indeed topersuade her. At last he prevailed, and was concealed in the copper. When the giant returned, he said furiously, "I smell fresh meat!" ButJack felt quite composed, as he had said so before and had been soonsatisfied. However, the giant started up suddenly, and, notwithstandingall his wife could say, he searched all round the room. Whilst this wasgoing forward, Jack was exceedingly terrified, wishing himself at home athousand times; but when the giant approached the copper, and put hishand on the lid, Jack thought his death was certain. However, nothinghappened; for the giant did not take the trouble to lift up the lid, butsat down shortly by the fireside and began to eat his enormous supper. When he had finished, he commanded his wife to fetch down his harp. Jack peeped under the copper lid and saw a most beautiful harp. Thegiant placed it on the table, said, "Play!" and it played of its ownaccord, without anybody touching it, the most exquisite musicimaginable. Jack, who was a very good musician, was delighted, and more anxious toget this than any other of his enemy's treasures. But the giant notbeing particularly fond of music, the harp had only the effect oflulling him to sleep earlier than usual. As for the wife, she had goneto bed as soon as ever she could. As soon as he thought all was safe, Jack got out of the copper, and, seizing the harp, was eagerly running off with it. But the harp wasenchanted by a fairy, and as soon as it found itself in strange hands, it called out loudly, just as if it had been alive, "Master! Master!" The giant awoke, started up, and saw Jack scampering away as fast as hislegs could carry him. "Oh, you villain! It is you who have robbed me of my hen and mymoney-bags, and now you are stealing my harp also. Wait till I catchyou, and I'll eat you up alive!" "Very well; try!" shouted Jack, who was not a bit afraid, for he saw thegiant was so tipsy he could hardly stand, much less run; and he himselfhad young legs and a clear conscience, which carry a man a long way. So, after leading the giant a considerable race, he contrived to be first atthe top of the bean-stalk, and then scrambled down it as fast as hecould, the harp playing all the while the most melancholy music, till hesaid, "Stop"; and it stopped. Arrived at the bottom, he found his mother sitting at her cottage door, weeping silently. "Here, mother, don't cry; just give me a hatchet; make haste. " For heknew there was not a moment to spare. He saw the giant beginning todescend the bean-stalk. However, it was too late--the monster's ill deeds had come to an end. Jack with his hatchet cut the bean-stalk close off at the root; thegiant fell headlong into the garden, and was killed on the spot. Instantly the fairy appeared and explained everything to Jack's mother, begging her to forgive Jack, who was his father's own son for braveryand generosity, and who would be sure to make her happy for the rest ofher days. So all ended well, and nothing was ever more heard or seen of thewonderful bean-stalk. 158 Those wonder stories that concern themselves with giants or with very little people have always been favorites with children. Of the little heroes Tom Thumb has always held the center of the stage. His adventures in one form or another are in the folk tales of most European countries. He has the honor of being the subject of a monograph by the great French scholar Gaston Paris. Hans Christian Andersen turned him into a delightful little girl in his derivative story of "Thumbelina. " The English version of "Tom Thumb" seems to have been printed first in ballad form in the seventeenth century, and later in many chapbook versions in prose. Its plot takes the form of a succession of marvelous accidents by land and sea, limited only by the inventive ingenuity of the story-teller. "According to popular tradition Tom Thumb died at Lincoln. . . . There was a little blue flagstone in the pavement of the Minster which was shown as Tom Thumb's monument, and the country folks never failed to marvel at it when they came to church on the Assize Sunday; but during some of the modern repairs which have been inflicted on that venerable building, the flagstone was displaced and lost, to the great discomfiture of the holiday visitants. " Thus wrote an ancient and learned scholar in illustration of the tendency to give a local habitation and a name to our favorite fancies. The version of the story given by Miss Mulock in her _Fairy Book_ is the one used here. It follows closely the rambling events of the various chapbook and ballad versions. TOM THUMB In the days of King Arthur, Merlin, the most learned enchanter of histime, was on a journey; and being very weary, stopped one day at thecottage of an honest ploughman to ask for refreshment. The ploughman'swife with great civility immediately brought him some milk in a woodenbowl and some brown bread on a wooden platter. Merlin could not help observing that although everything within thecottage was particularly neat and clean and in good order, the ploughmanand his wife had the most sorrowful air imaginable; so he questionedthem on the cause of their melancholy and learned that they were verymiserable because they had no children. The poor woman declared with tears in her eyes that she should be thehappiest creature in the world if she had a son, although he were nobigger than his father's thumb. Merlin was much amused with the notion of a boy no bigger than a man'sthumb, and as soon as he returned home he sent for the queen of thefairies (with whom he was very intimate) and related to her the desireof the ploughman and his wife to have a son the size of his father'sthumb. She liked the plan exceedingly and declared their wish should bespeedily granted. Accordingly the ploughman's wife had a son, who in afew minutes grew as tall as his father's thumb. The queen of the fairies came in at the window as the mother was sittingup in bed admiring the child. Her majesty kissed the infant and, givingit the name of Tom Thumb, immediately summoned several fairies fromFairyland to clothe her new little favorite. "An oak-leaf hat he had for his crown; His shirt it was by spiders spun; With doublet wove of thistledown, His trousers up with points were done; His stockings, of apple-rind, they tie With eye-lash plucked from his mother's eye, His shoes were made of a mouse's skin, Nicely tann'd with hair within. " Tom was never any bigger than his father's thumb, which was not a largethumb either; but as he grew older he became very cunning, for which hismother did not sufficiently correct him, and by this ill quality he wasoften brought into difficulties. For instance, when he had learned toplay with other boys for cherry-stones and had lost all his own, he usedto creep into the boys' bags, fill his pockets, and come out again toplay. But one day as he was getting out of a bag of cherry-stones, theboy to whom it belonged chanced to see him. "Ah, ha, my little Tom Thumb!" said he, "have I caught you at your badtricks at last? Now I will reward you for thieving. " Then he drew thestring tight around Tom's neck and shook the bag. The cherry-stonesbruised Tom Thumb's legs, thighs, and body sadly, which made him beg tobe let out and promise never to be guilty of such things any more. Shortly afterwards Tom's mother was making a batter-pudding, and thathe might see how she mixed it, he climbed on the edge of the bowl; buthis foot happening to slip, he fell over head and ears into the batter. His mother not observing him, stirred him into the pudding and poppedhim into the pot to boil. The hot water made Tom kick and struggle; andthe mother, seeing the pudding jump up and down in such a furiousmanner, thought it was bewitched; and a tinker coming by just at thetime, she quickly gave him the pudding. He put it into his budget andwalked on. As soon as Tom could get the batter out of his mouth he began to cryaloud, and so frightened the poor tinker that he flung the pudding overthe hedge and ran away from it as fast as he could. The pudding beingbroken to pieces by the fall, Tom was released, and walked home to hismother, who gave him a kiss and put him to bed. Tom Thumb's mother once took him with her when she went to milk the cow;and it being a very windy day, she tied him with a needleful of threadto a thistle, that he might not be blown away. The cow, liking hisoak-leaf hat, took him and the thistle up at one mouthful. While the cowchewed the thistle, Tom, terrified at her great teeth, which seemedready to crush him to pieces, roared, "Mother, mother!" as loud as hecould bawl. "Where are you, Tommy, my dear Tommy?" said the mother. "Here, mother, here in the red cow's mouth. " The mother began to cry and wring her hands; but the cow, surprised atsuch odd noises in her throat, opened her mouth and let him drop out. His mother clapped him into her apron and ran home with him. Tom's father made him a whip of a barley straw to drive the cattle with, and one day when he was in the field he slipped into a deep furrow. Araven flying over picked him up with a grain of corn and flew with himto the top of a giant's castle by the seaside, where he left him; andold Grumbo, the giant, coming soon after to walk upon his terrace, swallowed Tom like a pill, clothes and all. Tom presently made the giant very uncomfortable, and he threw him upinto the sea. A great fish then swallowed him. The fish was soon aftercaught, and sent as a present to King Arthur. When it was cut open, everybody was delighted with little Tom Thumb. The king made him hisdwarf; he was the favorite of the whole court, and by his merry pranksoften amused the queen and the knights of the Round Table. The king, when he rode on horse-back, frequently took Tom in his hand;and if a shower of rain came on, he used to creep into the king'swaist-coat pocket and sleep till the rain was over. The king alsosometimes questioned Tom concerning his parents; and when Tom informedhis majesty they were very poor people, the king led him into histreasury and told him he should pay his friends a visit and take withhim as much money as he could carry. Tom procured a little purse, andputting a threepenny piece into it, with much labor and difficulty gotit upon his back; and, after travelling two days and nights, arrived athis father's house. When his mother met him at the door, he was almost tired to death, having in forty-eight hours traveled almost half a mile with a hugesilver threepence upon his back. Both his parents were glad to see him, especially when he had brought such an amazing sum of money with him. They placed him in a walnut-shell by the fireside and feasted him forthree days upon a hazel-nut, which made him sick, for a whole nutusually served him for a month. Tom got well, but could not travel because it had rained; therefore hismother took him in her hand, and with one puff blew him into KingArthur's court, where Tom entertained the king, queen, and nobility attilts and tournaments, at which he exerted himself so much that hebrought on a fit of sickness, and his life was despaired of. At this juncture the queen of the fairies came in a chariot, drawn byflying mice, placed Tom by her side, and drove through the air withoutstopping till they arrived at her palace. After restoring him to healthand permitting him to enjoy all the gay diversions of Fairyland, shecommanded a fair wind, and, placing Tom before it, blew him straight tothe court of King Arthur. But just as Tom should have alighted in thecourtyard of the palace, the cook happened to pass along with the king'sgreat bowl of furmenty (King Arthur loved furmenty), and poor Tom Thumbfell plump into the middle of it and splashed the hot furmenty into thecook's eyes. Down went the bowl. "Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" cried Tom. "Murder! murder!" bellowed the cook; and away poured the king's nicefurmenty into the kennel. The cook was a red-faced, cross fellow, and swore to the king that Tomhad done it out of mere mischief; so he was taken up, tried, andsentenced to be beheaded. Tom hearing this dreadful sentence and seeinga miller stand by with his mouth wide open, he took a good spring andjumped down the miller's throat, unperceived by all, even the millerhimself. Tom being lost, the court broke up, and away went the miller to hismill. But Tom did not leave him long at rest; he began to roll andtumble about, so that the miller thought himself bewitched and sent fora doctor. When the doctor came, Tom began to dance and sing. The doctorwas as much frightened as the miller and sent in great haste for fivemore doctors and twenty learned men. While all these were debating upon the affair, the miller (for they werevery tedious) happened to yawn, and Tom, taking the opportunity, madeanother jump and alighted on his feet in the middle of the table. Themiller, provoked to be thus tormented by such a little creature, fellinto a great passion, caught hold of Tom, and threw him out of thewindow into the river. A large salmon swimming by snapped him up in aminute. The salmon was soon caught and sold in the market to a stewardof a lord. The lord, thinking it an uncommonly fine fish, made a presentof it to the king, who ordered it to be dressed immediately. When thecook cut open the salmon he found poor Tom and ran with him directly tothe king; but the king, being busy with state affairs, desired that hemight be brought another day. The cook, resolving to keep him safely this time, as he had so latelygiven him the slip, clapped him into a mouse-trap and left him to amusehimself by peeping through the wires for a whole week. When the kingsent for him, he forgave him for throwing down the furmenty, orderedhim new clothes, and knighted him. "His shirt was made of butterflies' wings; His boots were made of chicken skins, His coat and breeches were made with pride, A tailor's needle hung by his side; A mouse for a horse he used to ride. " Thus dressed and mounted, he rode a-hunting with the king and nobility, who all laughed heartily at Tom and his prancing steed. As they rode bya farm-house one day, a cat jumped from behind the door, seized themouse and little Tom, and began to devour the mouse; however, Tom boldlydrew his sword and attacked the cat, who then let him fall. The king andhis nobles, seeing Tom falling, went to his assistance, and one of thelords caught him in his hat; but poor Tom was sadly scratched, and hisclothes were torn by the claws of the cat. In this condition he wascarried home, and a bed of down was made for him in a little ivorycabinet. The queen of the fairies came and took him again to Fairyland, where shekept him for some years; and then, dressing him in bright green, senthim flying once more through the air to the earth, in the days of KingThunstone. The people flocked far and near to look at him; and the king, before whom he was carried, asked him who he was, whence he came, andwhere he lived? Tom answered: "My name is Tom Thumb; From the fairies I come; When King Arthur shone, This court was my home; In me he delighted; By him I was knighted. Did you ever hear of Sir Thomas Thumb?" The king was so charmed with this address that he ordered a little chairto be made, in order that Tom might sit on his table, and also a palaceof gold a span high with a door an inch wide, for little Tom to live in. He also gave him a coach drawn by six small mice. This made the queenangry, because she had not a new coach too; therefore, resolving to ruinTom, she complained to the king that he had behaved very insolently toher. The king sent for him in a rage. Tom, to escape his fury, creptinto an empty snail-shell and there lay till he was almost starved;then, peeping out of the hole, he saw a fine butterfly settle on theground. He then ventured out, and getting astride, the butterfly tookwing and mounted into the air with little Tom on his back. Away he flewfrom field to field, from tree to tree, till at last he flew to theking's court. The king, queen, and nobles all strove to catch thebutterfly, but could not. At length poor Tom, having neither bridle norsaddle, slipped from his seat and fell into a watering-pot, where he wasfound almost drowned. The queen vowed he should be guillotined; but while the guillotine wasgetting ready, he was secured once more in a mousetrap. The cat, seeingsomething stir and supposing it to be a mouse, patted the trap abouttill she broke it and set Tom at liberty. Soon afterwards a spider, taking him for a fly, made at him. Tom drewhis sword and fought valiantly, but the spider's poisonous breathovercame him: "He fell dead on the ground where late he had stood, And the spider suck'd up the last drop of his blood. " King Thunstone and his whole court went into mourning for little TomThumb. They buried him under a rosebush and raised a nice white marblemonument over his grave, with the following epitaph: "Here lies Tom Thumb, King Arthur's knight, Who died by a spider's cruel bite. He was well known in Arthur's court, Where he afforded gallant sport; He rode at tilt and tournament, And on a mouse a-hunting went. Alive he fill'd the court with mirth, His death to sorrow soon gave birth. Wipe, wipe your eyes, and shake your head, And cry, 'Alas! Tom Thumb is dead. '" 159 This chapbook form of the famous "Whittington and His Cat" is the one reprinted by Hartland in his _English Fairy and Folk Tales_. It goes back to the early eighteenth century. Sir Richard Whittington, at least, was a historical character and served his first term as Lord Mayor of London in 1397. Like most popular stories, this one of a fortune due to a cat is common to all Europe. Mr. Clouston, in the second volume of his _Popular Tales and Fictions_, outlines a number of these stories, and even points out a Persian parallel of an earlier date than the birth of Sir Richard. Just how this very prosperous business man of London, who was never in reality a poor boy, came to be adopted as the hero of the English version of this romantic tale has never been made clear. Probably it was due to the common tendency of the folk in all lands to attribute unusual success in any field to other than ordinary causes. However that may be, it is certainly true that no story more completely satisfies the ideal of complete success for children than this "History of Sir Richard Whittington. " Mr. Jacobs calls attention to the interesting fact that the chapbook places the introduction of the potato into England rather far back! WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT In the reign of the famous King Edward III, there was a little boycalled Dick Whittington, whose father and mother died when he was veryyoung, so that he remembered nothing at all about them and was left aragged little fellow, running about a country village. As poor Dick wasnot old enough to work, he was very badly off; he got but little for hisdinner and sometimes nothing at all for his breakfast, for the peoplewho lived in the village were very poor indeed and could not spare himmuch more than the parings of potatoes and now and then a hard crust ofbread. For all this, Dick Whittington was a very sharp boy and was alwayslistening to what everybody talked about. On Sunday he was sure to getnear the farmers as they sat talking on the tombstones in the churchyardbefore the parson was come; and once a week you might see little Dickleaning against the sign post of the village alehouse, where peoplestopped to drink as they came from the next market town; and when thebarber's shop door was open, Dick listened to all the news that hiscustomers told one another. In this manner Dick heard a great many very strange things about thecity called London; for the foolish country people at that time thoughtthat folks in London were all fine gentlemen and ladies, and that therewas singing and music there all day long, and that the streets were allpaved with gold. One day a large wagon and eight horses, all with bells at their heads, drove through the village while Dick was standing by the signpost. Hethought that this wagon must be going to the fine town of London; so hetook courage and asked the wagoner to let him walk with him by the sideof the wagon. As soon as the wagoner heard that poor Dick had no fatheror mother and saw by his ragged clothes that he could not be worse offthan he was, he told him he might go if he would, so they set offtogether. I could never find out how little Dick contrived to get meat and drinkon the road, nor how he could walk so far, for it was a long way, norwhat he did at night for a place to lie down to sleep in. Perhaps somegood-natured people in the towns that he passed through, when they sawhe was a poor little ragged boy, gave him something to eat; and perhapsthe wagoner let him get into the wagon at night and take a nap upon oneof the boxes or large parcels in the wagon. Dick, however, got safe to London and was in such a hurry to see thefine streets paved all over with gold that I am afraid he did not evenstay to thank the kind wagoner, but ran off as fast as his legs wouldcarry him through many of the streets, thinking every moment to come tothose that were paved with gold, for Dick had seen a guinea three timesin his own little village and remembered what a deal of money it broughtin change; so he thought he had nothing to do but to take up some littlebits of the pavement and should then have as much money as he could wishfor. Poor Dick ran till he was tired and had quite forgotten his friend thewagoner; but at last, finding it grow dark and that every way he turnedhe saw nothing but dirt instead of gold, he sat down in a dark cornerand cried himself to sleep. Little Dick was all night in the streets; and next morning, being veryhungry, he got up and walked about and asked everybody he met to givehim a halfpenny to keep him from starving. But nobody stayed to answerhim, and only two or three gave him a halfpenny; so that the poor boywas soon quite weak and faint for the want of victuals. At last a good-natured looking gentleman saw how hungry he looked. "Whydon't you go to work, my lad?" said he to Dick. "That I would, but I do not know how to get any, " answered Dick. "If you are willing, come along with me, " said the gentleman, and tookhim to a hay-field, where Dick worked briskly and lived merrily till thehay was made. After this he found himself as badly off as before; and being almoststarved again, he laid himself down at the door of Mr. Fitzwarren, arich merchant. Here he was soon seen by the cook-maid, who was anill-tempered creature and happened just then to be very busy dressingdinner for her master and mistress; so she called out to poor Dick:"What business have you there, you lazy rogue? There is nothing else butbeggars. If you do not take yourself away, we will see how you will likea sousing of some dish water; I have some here hot enough to make youjump. " Just at that time Mr. Fitzwarren himself came home to dinner; and whenhe saw a dirty ragged boy lying at the door, he said to him: "Why do youlie there, my boy? You seem old enough to work. I am afraid you areinclined to be lazy. " "No, indeed, sir, " said Dick to him, "that is not the case, for I wouldwork with all my heart, but I do not know anybody, and I believe I amvery sick for the want of food. " "Poor fellow, get up; let me see what ails you. " Dick then tried to rise, but was obliged to lie down again, being tooweak to stand, for he had not eaten any food for three days and was nolonger able to run about and beg a halfpenny of people in the street. Sothe kind merchant ordered him to be taken into the house, and have agood dinner given him, and be kept to do what dirty work he was able forthe cook. Little Dick would have lived very happy in this good family if it hadnot been for the ill-natured cook, who was finding fault and scoldinghim from morning to night, and besides she was so fond of basting thatwhen she had no meat to baste she would baste poor Dick's head andshoulders with a broom or anything else that happened to fall in herway. At last her ill-usage of him was told to Alice, Mr. Fitzwarren'sdaughter, who told the cook she should be turned away if she did nottreat him kinder. The ill-humor of the cook was now a little amended; but besides thisDick had another hardship to get over. His bed stood in a garret wherethere were so many holes in the floor and the walls that every night hewas tormented with rats and mice. A gentleman having given Dick a pennyfor cleaning his shoes, he thought he would buy a cat with it. The nextday he saw a girl with a cat and asked her if she would let him have itfor a penny. The girl said she would and at the same time told him thecat was an excellent mouser. Dick hid his cat in the garret and always took care to carry a part ofhis dinner to her, and in a short time he had no more trouble with therats and mice, but slept quite sound every night. Soon after this his master had a ship ready to sail; and as he thoughtit right that all his servants should have some chance for good fortuneas well as himself, he called them all into the parlor and asked themwhat they would send out. They all had something that they were willing to venture except poorDick, who had neither money nor goods, and therefore could send nothing. For this reason he did not come into the parlor with the rest; but MissAlice guessed what was the matter and ordered him to be called in. Shethen said she would lay down some money for him from her own purse; butthe father told her this would not do, for it must be something of hisown. When poor Dick heard this, he said he had nothing but a cat which hebought for a penny some time since of a little girl. "Fetch your cat then, my good boy, " said Mr. Fitzwarren, "and let hergo. " Dick went up stairs and brought down poor puss, with tears in his eyes, and gave her to the captain, for he said he should now be kept awakeagain all night by the rats and mice. All the company laughed at Dick's odd venture; and Miss Alice, who feltpity for the poor boy, gave him some money to buy another cat. This and many other marks of kindness shown him by Miss Alice made theill-tempered cook jealous of poor Dick, and she began to use him morecruelly than ever and always made game of him for sending his cat tosea. She asked him if he thought his cat would sell for as much money aswould buy a stick to beat him. At last poor Dick could not bear this usage any longer, and he thoughthe would run away from his place; so he packed up his few things andstarted very early in the morning on All-hallows Day, which is the firstof November. He walked as far as Holloway, and there sat down on astone, which to this day is called Whittington's stone, and began tothink to himself which road he should take as he proceeded. While he was thinking what he should do, the Bells of Bow Church, whichat that time had only six, began to ring, and he fancied their soundseemed to say to him: "Turn again, Whittington, Lord Mayor of London. " "Lord Mayor of London!" said he to himself. "Why, to be sure, I wouldput up with almost anything now to be Lord Mayor of London and ride in afine coach when I grow to be a man! Well, I will go back and thinknothing of the cuffing and scolding of the old cook if I am to be LordMayor of London at last. " Dick went back and was lucky enough to get into the house and set abouthis work before the old cook came downstairs. The ship, with the cat on board, was a long time at sea, and was at lastdriven by the winds on a part of the coast of Barbary where the onlypeople were the Moors, whom the English had never known before. The people then came in great numbers to see the sailors, who were ofdifferent color from themselves, and treated them very civilly, and whenthey became better acquainted were very eager to buy the fine thingsthat the ship was loaded with. When the captain saw this, he sent patterns of the best things he had tothe king of the country, who was so much pleased with them that he sentfor the captain to the palace. Here they were placed, as it is thecustom of the country, on rich carpets marked with gold and silverflowers. The king and queen were seated at the upper end of the room, and a number of dishes were brought in for dinner. When they had sat buta short time, a vast number of rats and mice rushed in, helpingthemselves from almost every dish. The captain wondered at this andasked if these vermin were not very unpleasant. "Oh, yes, " said they, "very offensive; and the king would give half histreasure to be freed of them, for they not only destroy his dinner, asyou see, but they assault him in his chamber and even in bed, so that heis obliged to be watched while he is sleeping for fear of them. " The captain jumped for joy; he remembered poor Whittington and his catand told the king he had a creature on board the ship that woulddispatch all these vermin immediately. The king's heart heaved so highat the joy which this news gave him that his turban dropped off hishead. "Bring this creature to me, " says he; "vermin are dreadful in acourt, and if she will perform what you say, I will load your ship withgold and jewels in exchange for her. " The captain, who knew his business, took this opportunity to set forththe merits of Mrs. Puss. He told his majesty that it would beinconvenient to part with her, as, when she was gone, the rats and micemight destroy the goods in the ship--but to oblige his majesty he wouldfetch her. "Run, run!" said the queen; "I am impatient to see the dearcreature. " Away went the captain to the ship, while another dinner was got ready. He put puss under his arm and arrived at the palace soon enough to seethe table full of rats. When the cat saw them, she did not wait for bidding, but jumped out ofthe captain's arms and in a few minutes laid almost all the rats andmice dead at her feet. The rest of them in their fright scampered awayto their holes. The king and queen were quite charmed to get so easily rid of suchplagues and desired that the creature who had done them so great akindness might be brought to them for inspection. The captain called, "Pussy, pussy, pussy!" and she came to him. He then presented her to thequeen, who started back and was afraid to touch a creature who had madesuch a havoc among the rats and mice. However, when the captain strokedthe cat and called, "Pussy, pussy, " the queen also touched her andcried, "Putty, putty, " for she had not learned English. He then put herdown on the queen's lap; where she, purring, played with her majesty'shand and then sang herself to sleep. The king, having seen the exploits of Mrs. Puss and being informed thatshe was with young and would stock the whole country, bargained with thecaptain for the whole ship's cargo and then gave him ten times as muchfor the cat as all the rest amounted to. The captain then took leave of the royal party and set sail with a fairwind for England, and after a happy voyage arrived safe in London. One morning when Mr. Fitzwarren had just come to his counting-house andseated himself at the desk, somebody came tap, tap, at the door. "Who'sthere?" says Mr. Fitzwarren. "A friend, " answered the other; "I come to bring you good news of yourship _Unicorn_. " The merchant, bustling up instantly, opened the door, and who should be seen waiting but the captain with a cabinet of jewelsand a bill of lading, for which the merchant lifted up his eyes andthanked heaven for sending him such a prosperous voyage. They then told the story of the cat and showed the rich present that theking and queen had sent for her to poor Dick. As soon as the merchantheard this, he called out to his servants: "Go fetch him--we will tell him of the same; Pray call him Mr. Whittington by name. " Mr. Fitzwarren now showed himself to be a good man; for when some of hisservants said so great a treasure was too much for him, he answered, "God forbid I should deprive him of the value of a single penny. " He then sent for Dick, who at that time was scouring pots for the cookand was quite dirty. Mr. Fitzwarren ordered a chair to be set for him, and so he began tothink they were making game of him, at the same time begging them not toplay tricks with a poor simple boy, but to let him go down again, ifthey pleased, to his work. "Indeed, Mr. Whittington, " said the merchant, "we are all quite inearnest with you, and I most heartily rejoice in the news thesegentlemen have brought you, for the captain has sold your cat to theKing of Barbary and brought you in return for her more riches than Ipossess in the whole world; and I wish you may long enjoy them!" Mr. Fitzwarren then told the men to open the great treasure they hadbrought with them, and said, "Mr. Whittington has nothing to do but toput it in some place of safety. " Poor Dick hardly knew how to behave himself for joy. He begged hismaster to take what part of it he pleased, since he owed it all to hiskindness. "No, no, " answered Mr. Fitzwarren, "this is all your own, andI have no doubt but you will use it well. " Dick next asked his mistress, and then Miss Alice, to accept a part ofhis good fortune; but they would not, and at the same time told him theyfelt great joy at his good success. But this poor fellow was tookind-hearted to keep it all to himself; so he made a present to thecaptain, the mate, and the rest of Mr. Fitzwarren's servants, and evento the ill-natured old cook. After this Mr. Fitzwarren advised him to send for a proper tradesman andget himself dressed like a gentleman, and told him he was welcome tolive in his house till he could provide himself with a better. When Whittington's face was washed, his hair curled, and his hat cocked, and he was dressed in a nice suit of clothes, he was as handsome andgenteel as any young man who visited at Mr. Fitzwarren's; so that MissAlice, who had once been so kind to him and thought of him with pity, now looked upon him as fit to be her sweetheart; and the more so, nodoubt, because Whittington was now always thinking what he could do tooblige her and making her the prettiest presents that could be. Mr. Fitzwarren soon saw their love for each other and proposed to jointhem in marriage, and to this they both readily agreed. A day for thewedding was soon fixed; and they were attended to church by the LordMayor, the court of aldermen, the sheriffs, and a great number of therichest merchants in London, whom they afterwards treated with a veryrich feast. History tells us that Mr. Whittington and his lady lived in greatsplendor and were very happy. They had several children. He was Sheriffof London, also Mayor, and received the honor of knighthood by Henry V. The figure of Sir Richard Whittington with his cat in his arms, carvedin stone, was to be seen till the year 1780 over the archway of the oldprison of Newgate that stood across Newgate Street. 160 The next story came from Suffolk, England, and the original is in the pronounced dialect of that county. Mr. Jacobs thinks it one of the best folk tales ever collected. The version given follows Jacobs in reducing the dialect. There is enough left, however, to raise the question of the use of dialect in stories for children. Some modern versions eliminate the dialect altogether. It is certain that the retention of some of the qualities of the folk-telling makes it more dramatically effective and appropriate. The original form of the story may be seen in Hartland's _English Fairy and Folk Tales_. Teachers should feel free to use their judgment as to the best form in which to tell a story to children. Name-guessing stories are very common, and may be "a 'survival' of the superstition that to know a man's name gives you power over him, for which reason savages object to tell their names. " The Grimm story of "Rumpelstiltskin" is the best known of many variants (No. 178). "Tom Tit Tot" has a rude vigor and dramatic force not in the continental versions, and it will be interesting to compare it with the Grimm tale. Jacobs suggests that "it may be necessary to explain to the little ones that Tom Tit can be referred to only as 'that, ' because his name is not known until the end. " TOM TIT TOT Once upon a time there was a woman, and she baked five pies. And whenthey came out of the oven, they were that over-baked the crusts were toohard to eat. So she says to her daughter: "Darter, " says she, "put youthem there pies on the shelf, and leave 'em there a little, and they'llcome again. "--She meant, you know, the crust would get soft. But the girl, she says to herself, "Well, if they'll come again, I'lleat 'em now. " And she set to work and ate 'em all, first and last. Well, come supper-time the woman said, "Go you and get one o' them therepies. I dare say they've come again now. " The girl went and she looked, and there was nothing but the dishes. Soback she came and says she, "Noo, they ain't come again. " "Not one of 'em?" says the mother. "Not one of 'em, " says she. "Well, come again or not come again, " said the woman, "I'll have one forsupper. " "But you can't if they ain't come, " said the girl. "But I can, " says she. "Go you and bring the best of 'em. " "Best or worst, " says the girl, "I've ate 'em all, and you can't haveone till that's come again. " Well, the woman she was done, and she took her spinning to the door tospin, and as she span she sang: "My darter ha' ate five, five pies to-day. My darter ha' ate five, five pies to-day. " The king was coming down the street, and he heard her sing, but what shesang he couldn't hear, so he stopped and said, "What was that you weresinging, my good woman?" The woman was ashamed to let him hear what her daughter had been doing, so she sang, instead of that: "My darter ha' spun five, five skeins to-day. My darter ha' spun five, five skeins to-day. " "Stars o' mine!" said the king, "I never heard tell of any one thatcould do that. " Then he said, "Look you here, I want a wife, and I'll marry yourdaughter. But look you here, " says he, "eleven months out of the yearshe shall have all she likes to eat, and all the gowns she likes to get, and all the company she likes to keep; but the last month of the yearshe'll have to spin five skeins every day, and if she don't I shall killher. " "All right, " says the woman; for she thought what a grand marriage thatwas. And as for the five skeins, when the time came, there'd be plentyof ways of getting out of it, and likeliest, he'd have forgotten allabout it. Well, so they were married. And for eleven months the girl had all sheliked to eat and all the gowns she liked to get and all the company sheliked to keep. But when the time was getting over, she began to think about the skeinsand to wonder if he had 'em in mind. But not one word did he say about'em, and she thought he'd wholly forgotten 'em. However, the first day of the last month he takes her to a room she'dnever set eyes on before. There was nothing in it but a spinning-wheeland a stool. And says he, "Now, my dear, here you'll be shut into-morrow with some victuals and some flax, and if you haven't spunfive skeins by the night, your head'll go off. " And away he went abouthis business. Well, she was that frightened, she'd always been such a gatless girl, that she didn't so much as know how to spin, and what was she to doto-morrow with no one to come nigh her to help her? She sat down on astool in the kitchen, and law! how she did cry! However, all of a sudden she heard a sort of a knocking low down on thedoor. She upped and oped it, and what should she see but a small littleblack thing with a long tail. That looked up at her right curious, andthat said, "What are you a-crying for?" "What's that to you?" says she. "Never you mind, " that said, "but tell me what you're a-crying for. " "That won't do me no good if I do, " says she. "You don't know that, " that said, and twirled that's tail round. "Well, " says she, "that won't do no harm, if that don't do no good, " andshe upped and told about the pies and the skeins and everything. "This is what I'll do, " says the little black thing, "I'll come to yourwindow every morning and take the flax and bring it spun at night. " "What's your pay?" says she. That looked out of the corner of that's eyes, and that said, "I'll giveyou three guesses every night to guess my name, and if you haven'tguessed it before the month's up you shalt be mine. " Well, she thought she'd be sure to guess that's name before the monthwas up. "All right, " says she, "I agree. " "All right, " that says, and law! how that twirled that's tail. Well, the next day her husband took her into the room, and there was theflax and the day's food. "Now, there's the flax, " says he, "and if that ain't spun up this night, off goes your head. " And then he went out and locked the door. He'd hardly gone when there was a knocking against the window. She uppedand she oped it, and there sure enough was the little old thing sittingon the ledge. "Where's the flax?" says he. "Here it be, " says she. And she gave it to him. Well, come the evening a knocking came again to the window. She uppedand she oped it, and there was the little old thing with five skeins offlax on his arm. "Here it be, " says he, and he gave it to her. "Now, what's my name?"says he. "What, is that Bill?" says she. "Noo, that ain't, " says he, andhe twirled his tail. "Is that Ned?" says she. "Noo, that ain't, " sayshe, and he twirled his tail. "Well, is that Mark?" says she. "Noo, thatain't, " says he, and he twirled his tail harder, and away he flew. Well, when her husband came in, there were the five skeins ready forhim. "I see I shan't have to kill you to-night, my dear, " says he;"you'll have your food and your flax in the morning, " says he, and awayhe goes. Well, every day the flax and the food were brought, and every day thatthere little black impet used to come mornings and evenings. And all theday the girl sat trying to think of names to say to it when it came atnight. But she never hit on the right one. And as it got towards the endof the month, the impet began to look so maliceful, and that twirledthat's tail faster and faster each time she gave a guess. At last it came to the last day but one. The impet came at night alongwith the five skeins, and that said, "What, ain't you got my name yet?""Is that Nicodemus?" says she. "Noo, 't ain't, " that says. "Is thatSammle?" says she. "Noo, 't ain't, " that says. "A-well, is thatMethusalem?" says she. "Noo, 't ain't that neither, " that says. Then that looks at her with that's eyes like a coal o' fire, and thatsays, "Woman, there's only to-morrow night, and then you'll be mine!"And away it flew. Well, she felt that horrid. However she heard the king coming along thepassage. In he came, and when he sees the five skeins, says he, "Well, my dear, I don't see but what you'll have your skeins ready to-morrownight as well and as I reckon I shan't have to kill you, I'll havesupper in here to-night. " So they brought supper and another stool forhim, and down the two sat. Well, he hadn't eaten but a mouthful or so, when he stops and begins tolaugh. "What is it?" says she. "A-why, " says he, "I was out a-hunting to-day, and I got away to a placein the wood I'd never seen before. And there was an old chalk-pit. And Iheard a kind of a sort of humming. So I got off my hobby, and I wentright quiet to the pit, and I looked down. Well, what should there bebut the funniest little black thing you ever set eyes on. And what wasthat doing, but that had a little spinning-wheel, and that was spinningwonderful fast, and twirling that's tail. And as that span that sang: "Nimmy nimmy not My name's Tom Tit Tot. " Well, when the girl heard this, she felt as if she could have jumped outof her skin for joy, but she didn't say a word. Next day that there little thing looked so maliceful when he came forthe flax. And when night came she heard that knocking against the windowpanes. She oped the window, and that come right in on the ledge. Thatwas grinning from ear to ear, and Oo! that's tail was twirling round sofast. "What's my name?" that says, as that gave her the skeins. "Is thatSolomon?" she says, pretending to be afeard. "Noo, 't ain't, " that says, and that came further into the room. "Well, is that Zebedee?" says sheagain. "Noo, 't ain't, " says the impet. And then that laughed andtwirled that's tail till you couldn't hardly see it. "Take time, woman, " that says; "next guess, and you're mine. " And thatstretched out that's black hands at her. Well, she backed a step or two, and she looked at it, and then shelaughed out and says she, pointing her finger at it: "Nimmy nimmy not Your name's Tom Tit Tot. " Well, when that heard her, that gave an awful shriek and away that flewinto the dark, and she never saw it any more. 161 In 1697 the French author Charles Perrault (1628-1703) published a little collection of eight tales in prose familiarly known as _The Tales of Mother Goose_ (_Contes de Ma Mère l'Oye_). These tales were "The Fairies" ("Toads and Diamonds"), "The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood, " "Bluebeard, " "Little Red Riding Hood, " "Puss-in-Boots, " "Cinderella, " "Rique with the Tuft, " and "Little Thumb. " Perrault was prominent as a scholar and may have felt it beneath his dignity to write nursery tales. At any rate he declared the stories were copied from tellings by his eleven-year-old son. But Perrault's fairies have not only saved him from oblivion: in countless editions and translations they have won him immortality. The charming literary form of his versions, "Englished by R. S. , Gent, " about 1730, soon established them in place of the more somber English popular versions. It is practically certain that the name Mother Goose, as that of the genial old lady who presides over the light literature of the nursery, was established by the work of Perrault. "Little Red Riding Hood, " a likely candidate for first place in the affections of childish story-lovers, is here given in its "correct" form. Many versions are so constructed as to have happy endings, either by having the woodmen appear in the nick of time to kill the wolf before any damage is done, or by having the grandmother and Little Red Riding Hood restored to life after recovering them from the "innards" of the wolf. Andrew Lang thinks that the tale as it stands is merely meant to waken a child's terror and pity, after the fashion of the old Greek tragedies, and that the narrator properly ends it by making a pounce, in the character of wolf, at the little listener. That this was the correct "business" in Scotch nurseries is borne out by a sentence in Chambers' _Popular Rhymes of Scotland_: "The old nurse's imitation of the _gnash, gnash_, which she played off upon the youngest urchin lying in her lap, was electric. " LITTLE RED RIDING-HOOD Once upon a time there lived in a certain village a little country girl, the prettiest creature that was ever seen. Her mother was excessivelyfond of her; and her grandmother doted on her still more. This goodwoman got made for her a little red riding-hood, which became the girlso extremely well that everybody called her Little Red Riding-Hood. One day her mother, having made some custards, said to her, "Go, mydear, and see how thy grandmamma does, for I hear that she has been veryill; carry her a custard and this little pot of butter. " Little Red Riding-Hood set out immediately to go to her grandmother, wholived in another village. As she was going through the wood, she met with Gaffer Wolf, who had avery great mind to eat her up, but he durst not because of somefagot-makers hard by in the forest. He asked her whither she was going. The poor child, who did not know that it was dangerous to stay and heara wolf talk, said to him, "I am going to see my grandmamma and carry hera custard and a little pot of butter from my mamma. " "Does she live far off?" said the wolf. "Oh! aye, " answered Little Red Riding-Hood, "it is beyond the mill yousee there at the first house in the village. " "Well, " said the wolf, "and I'll go and see her too. I'll go this wayand you go that, and we shall see who will be there soonest. " The wolf began to run as fast as he could, taking the nearest way, andthe little girl went by that farthest about, diverting herself bygathering nuts, running after butterflies, and making nosegays of suchlittle flowers as she met with. The wolf was not long before he got tothe old woman's house. He knocked at the door--tap, tap. "Who's there?" "Your grandchild, Little Red Riding-Hood, " replied the wolf, counterfeiting her voice, "who has brought you a custard and a pot ofbutter sent you by mamma. " The good grandmother, who was in bed because she was somewhat ill, criedout, "Pull the bobbin and the latch will go up. " The wolf pulled the bobbin and the door opened, and then presently hefell upon the good woman and ate her up in a moment, for it was abovethree days that he had not touched a bit. He then shut the door and wentinto the grandmother's bed, expecting Little Red Riding-Hood, who camesome time afterward and knocked at the door--tap, tap. "Who's there?" Little Red Riding-Hood, hearing the big voice of the wolf, was at firstafraid, but believing her grandmother had got a cold and was hoarse, answered, "'Tis your grandchild, Little Red Riding-Hood, who has broughtyou a custard and a little pot of butter mamma sends you. " The wolf cried out to her, softening his voice as much as he could, "Pull the bobbin and the latch will go up. " Little Red Riding-Hood pulled the bobbin and the door opened. The wolf, seeing her come in, said to her, hiding himself under thebedclothes, "Put the custard and the little pot of butter upon the stooland come and lie down with me. " Little Red Riding-Hood undressed herself and went into bed, where, beinggreatly amazed to see how her grandmother looked in her night-clothes, she said to her, "Grandmamma, what great arms you have got!" "That is the better to hug thee, my dear. " "Grandmamma, what great legs you have got!" "That is to run the better, my child. " "Grandmamma, what great ears you have got!" "That is to hear the better, my child. " "Grandmamma, what great eyes you have got!" "It is to see the better, my child. " "Grandmamma, what great teeth you have got!" "That is to eat thee up. " And saying these words, this wicked wolf fell upon Little RedRiding-Hood and ate her all up. 162 Because many modern teachers are distressed at the tragedy of the real story of "Little Red Riding Hood" as just given, they prefer some softened form of the tale. The Grimm version, "Little Red Cap, " is generally used by those who insist on a happy ending. There Little Red Riding Hood and her grandmother are both recovered and the wicked wolf destroyed. The story that follows is from a modern French author, Charles Marelles, and is given in the translation found in Lang's _Red Fairy Book_. In it the events are dramatically imagined in detail, even if the writer does turn it all into a sunflower myth at the close. TRUE HISTORY OF LITTLE GOLDEN HOOD You know the tale of poor Little Red Riding-Hood, that the wolf deceivedand devoured, with her cake, her little butter can, and her grandmother. Well, the true story happened quite differently, as we know now. Andfirst of all, the little girl was called and is still called LittleGolden Hood; secondly, it was not she, nor the good granddame, but thewicked wolf who was, in the end, caught and devoured. Only listen. The story begins something like the tale. There was once a little peasant girl, pretty and nice as a star in itsseason. Her real name was Blanchette, but she was more often calledLittle Golden Hood, on account of a wonderful little cloak with a hood, gold and fire colored, which she always had on. This little hood wasgiven her by her grandmother, who was so old that she did not know herage; it ought to bring her good luck, for it was made of a ray ofsunshine, she said. And as the good old woman was considered somethingof a witch, every one thought the little hood rather bewitched too. And so it was, as you will see. One day the mother said to the child: "Let us see, my little GoldenHood, if you know now how to find your way by yourself. You shall takethis good piece of cake to your grandmother for a Sunday treatto-morrow. You will ask her how she is, and come back at once, withoutstopping to chatter on the way with people you don't know. Do you quiteunderstand?" "I quite understand, " replied Blanchette gayly. And off she went withthe cake, quite proud of her errand. But the grandmother lived in another village, and there was a big woodto cross before getting there. At a turn of the road under the treessuddenly, "Who goes there?" "Friend Wolf. " He had seen the child start alone, and the villain was waiting to devourher, when at the same moment he perceived some wood-cutters who mightobserve him, and he changed his mind. Instead of falling upon Blanchettehe came frisking up to her like a good dog. "'Tis you! my nice Little Golden Hood, " said he. So the little girlstops to talk with the wolf, whom, for all that, she did not know in theleast. "You know me, then!" said she. "What is your name?" "My name is friend Wolf. And where are you going thus, my pretty one, with your little basket on your arm?" "I am going to my grandmother to take her a good piece of cake for herSunday treat to-morrow. " "And where does she live, your grandmother?" "She lives at the other side of the wood in the first house in thevillage, near the windmill, you know. " "Ah! yes! I know now, " said the wolf. "Well, that's just where I'mgoing. I shall get there before you, no doubt, with your little bits oflegs, and I'll tell her you're coming to see her; then she'll wait foryou. " Thereupon the wolf cuts across the wood, and in five minutes arrives atthe grandmother's house. He knocks at the door: toc, toc. No answer. He knocks louder. Nobody. Then he stands up on end, puts his two fore paws on the latch, and thedoor opens. Not a soul in the house. The old woman had risen early to sell herbs in the town, and had goneoff in such haste that she had left her bed unmade, with her greatnight-cap on the pillow. "Good!" said the wolf to himself, "I know what I'll do. " He shuts the door, pulls on the grandmother's night-cap down to hiseyes; then he lies down all his length in the bed and draws thecurtains. In the meantime the good Blanchette went quietly on her way, as littlegirls do, amusing herself here and there by picking Easter daisies, watching the little birds making their nests, and running after thebutterflies which fluttered in the sunshine. At last she arrives at the door. Knock, knock. "Who is there?" says the wolf, softening his rough voice as best he can. "It's me, granny, your Little Golden Hood. I'm bringing you a big pieceof cake for your Sunday treat to-morrow. " "Press your finger on the latch; then push and the door opens. " "Why, you've got a cold, granny, " said she, coming in. "Ahem! a little, my dear, a little, " replies the wolf, pretending tocough. "Shut the door well, my little lamb. Put your basket on thetable, and then take off your frock and come and lie down by me; youshall rest a little. " The good child undresses, but observe this:--she kept her little hoodupon her head. When she saw what a figure her granny cut in bed, thepoor little thing was much surprised. "Oh!" cries she, "how like you are to friend Wolf, grandmother!" "That's on account of my night-cap, child, " replies the wolf. "Oh! what hairy arms you've got, grandmother!" "All the better to hug you, my child. " "Oh! what a big tongue you've got, grandmother!" "All the better for answering, child. " "Oh! what a mouthful of great white teeth you have, grandmother!" "That's for crunching little children with!" And the wolf opened hisjaws wide to swallow Blanchette. But she put down her head, crying, "Mamma! mamma!" and the wolf onlycaught her little hood. Thereupon, oh, dear! oh, dear! he draws back, crying and shaking his jawas if he had swallowed red-hot coals. It was the little fire-colored hood that had burnt his tongue right downhis throat. The little hood, you see, was one of those magic caps that they used tohave in former times, in the stories, for making one's self invisible orinvulnerable. So there was the wolf with his throat burned, jumping off the bed andtrying to find the door, howling and howling as if all the dogs in thecountry were at his heels. Just at this moment the grandmother arrives, returning from the townwith her long sack empty on her shoulder. "Ah, brigand!" she cries, "wait a bit!" Quickly she opens her sack wideacross the door, and the maddened wolf springs in head downward. It is he now that is caught, swallowed like a letter in the post. Forthe brave old dame shuts her sack, so; and she runs and empties it inthe well, where the vagabond, still howling, tumbles in and is drowned. "Ah, scoundrel! you thought you would crunch my little grandchild! Well, to-morrow we will make her a muff of your skin, and you yourself shallbe crunched, for we will give your carcass to the dogs. " Thereupon the grandmother hastened to dress poor Blanchette, who wasstill trembling with fear in the bed. "Well, " she said to her, "without my little hood where would you be now, darling?" And, to restore heart and legs to the child, she made her eata good piece of her cake, and drink a good draught of wine, after whichshe took her by the hand and led her back to the house. And then, who was it who scolded her when she knew all that hadhappened? It was the mother. But Blanchette promised over and over again that she would never morestop to listen to a wolf, so that at last the mother forgave her. And Blanchette, the Little Golden Hood, kept her word. And in fineweather she may still be seen in the fields with her pretty little hood, the color of the sun. But to see her you must rise early. 163 The next Perrault story is given in the traditional English form made by "R. S. , Gent. " Perrault met the popular taste of his time for "morals" by adding more or less playful ones in verse to his stories. Here is a prose rendering of a portion of the _Moralité_ attached to "Puss-in-Boots": "However great may be the advantage of enjoying a rich inheritance coming down from father to son, industry and ingenuity are worth more to young people as a usual thing than goods acquired without personal effort. " In relation to this moral, Ralston says, "the conclusion at which an ordinary reader would arrive, if he were not dazzled by fairy-land glamor, would probably be that far better than either tact and industry on a master's part is the loyalty of an unscrupulous retainer of an imaginative turn of mind. The impropriety of this teaching is not balanced by any other form of instruction. What the story openly inculcates is not edifying, and it does not secretly convey any improving doctrine. " But on the other hand it may be argued that the "moral" passes over the child's head. Miss Kready, in her _Study of Fairy Tales_ (p. 275), makes a very elaborate and proper defense of "Puss-in-Boots" as a story for children. There is delight in its strong sense of adventure, it has a hero clever and quick, there is loyalty, love, and sacrifice in Puss's devotion to his master, the tricks are true to "cat-nature, " there are touches of nature beauty, a simple and pleasing plot, while we should not forget the delightful Ogre and his transformations into Lion and Mouse. The story is found in many forms among many different peoples. Perhaps the great stroke of genius which endears Perrault's version is in the splendid boots with which his tale provides the hero so that briers may not interfere with his doings. (Extended studies of this tale and its many parallels may be found in Lang's _Perrault's Popular Tales_; in McCulloch's _Childhood of Fiction_, chap. Viii; in an article by Ralston in the _Nineteenth Century_, January, 1883, reprinted in _Living Age_, Vol. CLVI, p. 362. ) PUSS-IN-BOOTS There was once a miller who left no more estate to the three sons he hadthan his mill, his ass, and his cat. The partition was soon made. Neither the clerk nor the attorney was sent for. They would soon haveeaten up all the poor patrimony. The eldest had the mill, the second theass, and the youngest nothing but the cat. The poor young fellow was quite comfortless at having so poor a lot. "Mybrothers, " said he, "may get their living handsomely enough by joiningtheir stocks together; but for my part, when I have eaten up my cat andmade me a muff of his skin, I must die with hunger. " The cat, who heard all this, but made as if he did not, said to him witha grave and serious air; "Do not thus afflict yourself, my good master;you have nothing else to do but to give me a bag and get a pair ofboots made for me, that I may scamper through the dirt and the brambles, and you shall see that you have not so bad a portion of me as youimagine. " Though the cat's master did not build very much upon what he said, hehad, however, often seen him play a great many cunning tricks to catchrats and mice; as when he used to hang by the heels, or hide himself inthe meal and make as if he were dead; so he did not altogether despairof his affording him some help in his miserable condition. When the cat had what he asked for, he booted himself very gallantly;and putting his bag about his neck, he held the strings of it in his twofore paws and went into a warren where was a great abundance of rabbits. He put bran and sow-thistles into his bag, and, stretching himself outat length as if he had been dead, he waited for some young rabbits, notyet acquainted with the deceits of the world, to come and rummage hisbag for what he had just put into it. Scarce was he lain down but he had what he wanted. A rash and foolishyoung rabbit jumped into his bag, and master Puss, immediately drawingclose the strings, took and killed him without pity. Proud of his prey, he went with it to the palace and asked to speak with his majesty. Hewas shown upstairs into the king's apartment, and, making a lowreverence, said to him: "I have brought you, sir, a rabbit of the warrenwhich my noble lord, the Marquis of Carabas" (for that was the titlewhich Puss was pleased to give his master), "has commanded me to presentto your majesty from him. " "Tell thy master, " said the king, "that I thank him and that he gives mea great deal of pleasure. " Another time he went and hid himself among some standing corn, holdingstill his bag open; and when a brace of partridges ran into it, he drewthe strings and so caught them both. He went and made a present of theseto the king, as he had done before of the rabbit which he took in thewarren. The king in like manner received the partridges with greatpleasure and ordered him some money. The cat continued for two or three months thus to carry his majesty, from time to time, game of his master's taking. One day in particular, when he knew for certain that he was to take the air along the riversidewith his daughter, the most beautiful princess in the world, he said tohis master: "If you will follow my advice, your fortune is made. Youhave nothing else to do but go and wash yourself in the river, in thatpart I shall show you, and leave the rest to me. " The Marquis of Carabasdid what the cat advised him to, without knowing why or wherefore. While he was washing, the king passed by, and the cat began to cry outas loud as he could, "Help, help! my lord Marquis of Carabas is going tobe drowned. " At this noise the king put his head out of hiscoach-window, and, finding it was the cat who had so often brought himsuch good game, he commanded his guards to run immediately to theassistance of his lordship, the Marquis of Carabas. While they were drawing the poor marquis out of the river, the cat cameup to the coach and told the king that while his master was washingthere came by some rogues, who went off with his clothes though he hadcried out, "Thieves, thieves, " as loud as he could. This cunning cat hadhidden them under a great stone. The king immediately commanded theofficers of his wardrobe to run and fetch one of his best suits for thelord Marquis of Carabas. The king caressed him after a very extraordinary manner; and as the fineclothes he had given him extremely set off his good mien (for he waswell made and very handsome in his person), the king's daughter took asecret inclination to him, and the Marquis of Carabas had no sooner casttwo or three respectful and somewhat tender glances, but she fell inlove with him to distraction. The king would needs have him come intohis coach and take part of the airing. The cat, quite overjoyed to seehis project begin to succeed, marched on before, and meeting with somecountrymen who were mowing a meadow, he said to them, "Good people, youwho are mowing, if you do not tell the king, who will soon pass thisway, that the meadow you mow belongs to my lord Marquis of Carabas, youshall be chopped as small as herbs for the pot. " The king did not fail asking of the mowers to whom the meadow they weremowing belonged: "To my lord Marquis of Carabas, " answered they, alltogether, for the cat's threats had made them terribly afraid. "You see, sir, " said the marquis, "this is a meadow which never fails toyield a plentiful harvest every year. " The master-cat, who went still on before, met with some reapers, andsaid to them, "Good people, you who are reaping, if you do not tell theking, who will presently go by, that all this corn belongs to theMarquis of Carabas, you shall be chopped as small as herbs for the pot. " The king, who passed by a moment after, would needs know to whom allthat corn, which he then saw, did belong. "To my lord Marquis ofCarabas, " replied the reapers; and the king was very well pleased withit, as well as the marquis, whom he congratulated thereupon. Themaster-cat, who went always before, said the same words to all he met;and the king was astonished at the vast estates of my lord Marquis ofCarabas. Master Puss came at last to a stately castle, the owner of which was anogre, the richest that had ever been known, for all the lands which theking had then gone over belonged to this castle. The cat, who had takencare to inform himself who the ogre was and what he could do, asked tospeak with him, saying he could not pass so near his castle withouthaving the honor of paying his respects to him. The ogre received him as civilly as an ogre could do and made him sitdown. "I have been assured, " said the cat, "that you have the gift ofbeing able to change yourself into all sorts of creatures you have amind to. You can, for example, transform yourself into a lion, orelephant, and the like. " "This is true, " answered the ogre very briskly, "and to convince you, you shall see me now become a lion. " Puss was so sadly terrified at the sight of a lion so near him that heimmediately got into the gutter, not without abundance of trouble anddanger, because of his boots, which were of no use at all to him inwalking upon the tiles. A little while after, when Puss saw that theogre had resumed his natural form, he came down and owned he had beenvery much frightened. "I have been, moreover, informed, " said the cat, "but I know not how tobelieve it, that you have also the power to take on you the shape of thesmallest animals; for example, to change yourself into a rat or a mouse;but I must own to you, I take this to be impossible. " "Impossible!" cried the ogre, "you shall see that presently, " and at thesame time changed himself into a mouse, and began to run about thefloor. Puss no sooner perceived this but he fell upon him and ate himup. Meanwhile, the king, who saw, as he passed, this fine castle of theogre's, had a mind to go into it. Puss, who heard the noise of hismajesty's coach running over the drawbridge, ran out and said to theking, "Your Majesty is welcome to this castle of my lord Marquis ofCarabas. " "What! my lord Marquis!" cried the king, "and does this castle alsobelong to you? There can be nothing finer than this court and all thestately buildings which surround it; let us go into it, if you please. "They passed into a spacious hall, where they found a magnificentcollation which the ogre had prepared for his friends, who were thatvery day to visit him, but dared not to enter, knowing the king wasthere. His majesty was perfectly charmed with the good qualities of mylord Marquis of Carabas, as was his daughter, who had fallen in lovewith him; and seeing the vast estate he possessed, said to him whilethey sat at the feast, "It will be owing to yourself only, my lordMarquis, if you are not my son-in-law. " The marquis, making several lowbows, accepted the honor which his majesty conferred upon him, andforthwith, that very same day, married the princess. Puss became a great lord, and never ran after mice any more, but onlyfor his diversion. 164 Perrault attached to the next story this moral: "Diamonds and dollars influence minds, and yet gentle words have more effect and are more to be esteemed. . . . It is a lot of trouble to be upright and it requires some effort, but sooner or later it finds its reward, and generally when one is least expecting it. " English versions are usually given the title "Toads and Diamonds, " though Perrault's title was simply "The Fairies" ("Les Fées"). Lang calls attention to the fact that the origin of the story is "manifestly moral. " He thinks "it is an obvious criticism that the elder girl should have met the fairy first; she was not likely to behave so rudely when she knew that politeness would be rewarded. " It would be interesting for a story-teller to test the effect of relating the incidents in the order suggested by Lang. TOADS AND DIAMONDS There was once upon a time a widow who had two daughters. The oldest wasso much like her in face and humor that whoever looked upon the daughtersaw the mother. They were both so disagreeable and so proud that therewas no living with them. The youngest, who was the very picture of herfather for courtesy and sweetness of temper, was withal one of the mostbeautiful girls that was ever seen. As people naturally love their ownlikenesses, this mother ever doted on her eldest daughter and at thesame time had a sad aversion for the youngest. She made her eat in thekitchen and work continually. Among other things, this poor child was forced twice a day to draw waterabove a mile and a half from the house, and bring home a pitcher full ofit. One day as she was at this fountain there came to her a poor woman, who begged of her to let her drink. "Oh, yes, with all my heart, Goody, " said this pretty little girl; and rinsing the pitcher, she tookup some water from the clearest place of the fountain and gave it toher, holding up the pitcher all the while that she might drink theeasier. The good woman having drunk, said to her, "You are so very pretty, mydear, so good and so mannerly, that I cannot help giving you agift"--for this was a fairy, who had taken the form of a poor countrywoman to see how far the civility and good manners of this pretty girlwould go. "I will give you for gift, " continued the fairy, "that atevery word you speak, there shall come out of your mouth either a floweror a jewel. " When this pretty girl came home, her mother scolded at her for stayingso long at the fountain. "I beg your pardon, mamma, " said the poor girl, "for not making more haste"; and, in speaking these words, there cameout of her mouth two roses, two pearls, and two large diamonds. "What is it I see there?" said her mother quite astonished. "I think Isee pearls and diamonds come out of the girl's mouth! How happens this, my child?"--This was the first time she ever called her her child. The poor creature told her frankly all the matter, not without droppingout infinite numbers of diamonds. "In good faith, " cried the mother, "Imust send my child thither. Come hither, Fanny. Look what comes out ofyour sister's mouth when she speaks! Would you not be glad, my dear, tohave the same gift given to you? You have nothing else to do but go drawwater out of the fountain, and when a certain poor woman asks you to lether drink, to give it her very civilly. " "It would be a very fine sight, indeed, " said this ill-bred minx, "tosee me go draw water!" "You shall go, hussy, " said the mother, "and this minute. " So away shewent, but grumbling all the way and taking with her the best silvertankard in the house. She was no sooner at the fountain than she saw coming out of the wood alady most gloriously dressed, who came up to her and asked to drink. This was, you must know, the very fairy who appeared to her sister, butwho had now taken the air and dress of a princess to see how far thisgirl's rudeness would go. "Am I come hither, " said the proud, saucymaid, "to serve you with water, pray? I suppose the silver tankard wasbrought purely for your ladyship, was it? However, you may drink out ofit, if you have a fancy. " "You are not over and above mannerly, " answered the fairy, withoutputting herself in a passion. "Well, then, since you have so littlebreeding and are so disobliging, I give you for gift, that at every wordyou speak there shall come out of your mouth a snake or a toad. " So soon as her mother saw her coming, she cried out, "Well, daughter. " "Well, mother, " answered the pert hussy, throwing out of her mouth twovipers and two toads. "Oh, mercy!" cried the mother, "what is it I see? Oh, it is that wretch, her sister, who has occasioned all this; but she shall pay for it"; andimmediately she ran to beat her. The poor child fled away from her andwent to hide herself in the forest, not far from thence. The king's son, then on his return from hunting, met her, and seeing herso very pretty, asked her what she did there alone, and why she cried. "Alas, sir! my mamma has turned me out of doors. " The king's son, whosaw five or six pearls, and as many diamonds, come out of her mouth, desired her to tell him how that happened. She thereupon told him thewhole story; and so the king's son fell in love with her; and, considering with himself that such a gift was worth more than anymarriage-portion whatsoever in another, he conducted her to the palaceof the king his father and there married her. As for her sister, she made herself so much hated that her own motherturned her off; and the miserable girl, having wandered about a goodwhile without finding anybody to take her in, went to a corner in thewood and there died. 165 "Cinderella" is one of the world's greatest romantic stories. Its theme is a favorite in all folk literature. Young and old alike have never tired of hearing of the victories won by the deserving in the face of all sorts of obstacles. Perrault in his verse moral observes that "while beauty is a rare treasure for a woman, yet a winning manner, or personality, is worth even more. " Still further, as if conscious of the part influence plays in the world, he says that "while it is doubtless a great advantage to have wit and courage, breeding and good sense, and other such natural endowments, still they will be of no earthly use for our advancement unless we have, to bring them into play, either godfathers or godmothers. " One should not, however, take too seriously any moralizing over a fairy story whether by Perrault or another. In one of the most thorough studies of a single folk tale, Miss Roalfe Cox's _Cinderella_, with an introduction by Andrew Lang, some three hundred and fifty variants of the story have been analyzed. The thing that marks a Cinderella story is the presence in it of the "slipper test. " The finest versions are those by Perrault and the Grimms, and they are almost equally favorites with children. The Perrault form as found in the old English translation is given here for reasons stated by Ralston in his study of the Cinderella type: "But Perrault's rendering of the tale naturalised it in the polite world, gave it for cultured circles an attraction which it is never likely to lose. . . . It is with human more than with mythological interest that the story is replete, and therefore it appeals to human hearts with a force which no lapse of time can diminish. Such supernatural machinery as is introduced, moreover, has a charm for children which older versions of the tale do not possess. The pumpkin carriage, the rat coachman, the lizard lacqueys, and all the other properties of the transformation scene, appeal at once to the imagination and the sense of humor of every beholder. " (_Nineteenth Century_, November, 1879. ) CINDERELLA, OR THE LITTLE GLASS SLIPPER Once there was a gentleman who married, for his second wife, theproudest and most haughty woman that was ever seen. She had, by a formerhusband, two daughters of her own humor, who were indeed exactly likeher in all things. He had likewise, by another wife, a young daughter, but of unparalleled goodness and sweetness of temper, which she tookfrom her mother, who was the best creature in the world. No sooner were the ceremonies of the wedding over but the step-motherbegan to show herself in her colors. She could not bear the goodqualities of this pretty girl; and the less because they made her owndaughters appear the more odious. She employed her in the meanest workof the house; she scoured the dishes and tables, and cleaned madam'sroom and the rooms of misses, her daughters; she lay up in a sorrygarret, upon a wretched straw-bed, while her sisters lay in fine rooms, with floors all inlaid, upon beds of the very newest fashion, and wherethey had looking-glasses so large that they might see themselves attheir full length, from head to foot. The poor girl bore all patiently, and dared not tell her father, whowould have rattled her off, for his wife governed him entirely. When shehad done her work, she used to go into the chimney corner and sit downamong cinders and ashes, which made her commonly called Cinder-wench;but the youngest, who was not so rude and uncivil as the eldest, calledher Cinderella. However, Cinderella, notwithstanding her mean apparel, was a hundred times handsomer than her sisters, though they were alwaysdressed very richly. It happened that the king's son gave a ball, and invited all persons offashion to it. Our young misses were also invited, for they cut a verygrand figure among the quality. They were mightily delighted at thisinvitation, and wonderfully busy in choosing out such gowns, petticoats, and head-clothes as might best become them. This was a new trouble toCinderella, for it was she who ironed her sisters' linen and plaitedtheir ruffles. They talked all day long of nothing but how they shouldbe dressed. "For my part, " said the eldest, "I will wear my red velvetsuit with French trimmings. " "And I, " said the youngest, "shall only have my usual petticoat; butthen, to make amends for that, I will put on my gold flowered manteauand my diamond stomacher, which is far from being the most ordinary onein the world. " They sent for the best tire-woman they could get to makeup their head-dresses, and they had their patches from the very bestmaker. Cinderella was likewise called up to them to be consulted in all thesematters, for she had excellent notions and advised them always for thebest; nay, and offered her service to dress their heads, which they werevery willing she should do. As she was doing this, they said to her, "Cinderella, would you not be glad to go to the ball?" "Ah!" said she, "you only jeer at me; it is not for such as I am to gothither. " "Thou art in the right of it, " replied they; "it would make the peoplelaugh to see a cinder-wench at a ball. " Any one but Cinderella would have dressed their heads awry, but she wasvery good, and dressed them perfectly well. They were almost two dayswithout eating, so much they were transported with joy. They broke abovea dozen of laces in trying to be laced up close, that they might have afine slender shape, and they were continually at their looking-glass. Atlast the happy day came. They went to court, and Cinderella followedthem with her eyes as long as she could, and when she had lost sight ofthem, she fell a-crying. Her godmother, who saw her all in tears, asked her what was the matter. "I wish I could--I wish I could--"; she was not able to speak the rest, being interrupted by her tears and sobbing. This godmother of hers, who was a fairy, said to her, "Thou wishest thoucouldest go to the ball. Is it not so?" "Y--es, " cried Cinderella with a great sigh. "Well, " said her godmother, "be but a good girl, and I will contrivethat thou shalt go. " Then she took her into her chamber and said to her, "Run into the gardenand bring me a pumpkin. " Cinderella went immediately to gather thefinest she could get, and brought it to her godmother, not being able toimagine how this pumpkin could make her go to the ball. Her godmotherscooped out all the inside of it, having left nothing but the rind;which done, she struck it with her wand, and the pumpkin was instantlyturned into a fine coach, gilded all over with gold. She then went to look into her mouse-trap, where she found six mice, allalive, and ordered Cinderella to lift up a little the trap-door. Thenshe gave each mouse, as it went out, a little tap with her wand, and themouse was that moment turned into a fair horse. All together the micemade a very fine set of six horses of a beautiful mouse-coloreddapple-gray. Being at a loss for a coachman, "I will go and see, " saidCinderella, "if there be never a rat in the rat-trap, that we may make acoachman of him. " "Thou art in the right, " replied her godmother; "go and look. " Cinderella brought the trap to her, and in it there were three hugerats. The fairy made choice of one of the three, which had the largestbeard, and, having touched him with her wand, he was turned into a fat, jolly coachman, who had the smartest whiskers that eyes ever beheld. After that her godmother said to her, "Go again into the garden and youwill find six lizards behind the watering pot; bring them to me. " Shehad no sooner done so, than the fairy turned them into six footmen, whoskipped up immediately behind the coach, with their liveries allbedecked with gold and silver, and clung as close behind each other asif they had done nothing else their whole lives. The fairy then said toCinderella, "Well, you see here an equipage fit to go to the ball with. Are you not pleased with it?" "Oh, yes, " cried she, "but must I go thither as I am, in these filthyrags?" Her godmother only just touched her with her wand, and at thesame instant her clothes were turned into cloth of gold and silver, allbeset with jewels. This done, she gave her a pair of glass slippers, theprettiest in the whole world. Being thus decked out, she got up into her coach; but her godmother, above all things, commanded her not to stay till after midnight, tellingher that if she stayed at the ball one moment longer, her coach would bea pumpkin again, her horses mice, her coachman a rat, her footmenlizards, and her clothes just as they were before. She promised her godmother she would not fail of leaving the ball beforemidnight; and then away she drives, scarce able to contain herself forjoy. The king's son, who was told that a great princess, whom nobodyknew, was come, ran out to receive her. He gave her his hand as shealighted from the coach, and led her into the hall among all thecompany. There was immediately a profound silence. They left offdancing, and the violins ceased to play, so attentive was every one tocontemplate the singular beauties of this unknown new-comer. Nothing wasthen heard but a confused noise of, "Ha! how handsome she is! Ha! howhandsome she is!" The king himself, old as he was, could not help oglingher and telling the queen softly that it was a long time since he hadseen so beautiful and lovely a creature. All the ladies were busied inconsidering her clothes and head-dress, that they might have some madenext day after the same pattern, provided they could meet with such finematerials and as able hands to make them. The king's son conducted her to the most honorable seat and afterwardstook her out to dance with him. She danced so very gracefully that theyall more and more admired her. A fine collation was served up, whereofthe young prince ate not a morsel, so intently was he busied in gazingon her. She went and sat down by her sisters, showing them a thousandcivilities, giving them part of the oranges and citrons which the princehad presented her with; which very much surprised them, for they did notknow her. While Cinderella was thus amusing her sisters, she heard theclock strike eleven and three quarters, whereupon she immediately made acourtesy to the company and hasted away as fast as she could. Being got home, she ran to seek out her godmother; and having thankedher, she said she could not but heartily wish she might go next day tothe ball, because the king's son had desired her. As she was eagerlytelling her godmother whatever had passed at the ball, her two sistersknocked at the door, which Cinderella ran and opened. "How long you havestayed!" cried she, gaping, rubbing her eyes, and stretching herself asif she had been just awakened out of her sleep; she had not, however, any manner of inclination to sleep since they went from home. "If thou hadst been at the ball, " said one of her sisters, "thouwouldest not have been tired with it. There came thither the finestprincess, the most beautiful ever seen with mortal eyes. She showed us athousand civilities and gave us oranges and citrons. " Cinderella seemedvery indifferent in the matter; indeed, she asked them the name of theprincess, but they told her they did not know it and that the king's sonwas very uneasy on her account and would give all the world to know whoshe was. At this Cinderella, smiling, replied, "She must then be very beautifulindeed! How happy have you been! Could not I see her? Ah! dear MissCharlotte, do lend me your yellow suit of clothes, which you wear everyday. " "Ay, to be sure, " cried Miss Charlotte, "lend my clothes to such a dirtycinder-wench as thou art! Who's the fool then?" Cinderella indeedexpected some such answer and was very glad of the refusal, for shewould have been sadly put to it if her sister had lent her what sheasked for jestingly. The next day the two sisters were at the ball, and so was Cinderella, but dressed more magnificently than before. The king's son was always byher side and never ceased his compliments and amorous speeches to her;to whom all this was so far from being tiresome that she quite forgotwhat her godmother had recommended to her, so that she at last countedthe clock striking twelve when she took it to be no more than eleven. She then rose up and fled as nimble as a deer. The prince followed, butcould not overtake her. She left behind one of her glass slippers, whichthe prince took up most carefully. She got home, but quite out ofbreath, without coach or footmen, and in her old cinder clothes, havingnothing left of all her finery but one of the little slippers, fellow tothat she dropped. The guards at the palace gate were asked if they hadnot seen a princess go out. They said they had seen nobody go out but ayoung girl very meanly dressed, who had more the air of a poor countrywench than a gentlewoman. When the two sisters returned from the ball, Cinderella asked them ifthey had been well diverted and if the fine lady had been there. Theytold her yes, but that she hurried away immediately when it strucktwelve and with so much haste that she dropped one of her little glassslippers, the prettiest in the world, which the king's son had taken up;that he had done nothing but look at her all the time of the ball, andthat most certainly he was very much in love with the beautiful personwho owned the little glass slipper. What they said was very true, for a few days after, the king's soncaused to be proclaimed by sound of trumpets that he would marry herwhose foot this slipper would just fit. They whom he employed began totry it on upon the princesses, then the duchesses, and all the court, but in vain. It was brought to the two sisters, who did all theypossibly could to thrust their foot into the slipper, but they could noteffect it. Cinderella, who saw all this and knew her slipper, said tothem, laughing, "Let me see if it will not fit me!" Her sisters burst out laughing and began to banter her. The gentlemanwho was sent to try the slipper looked earnestly at Cinderella, andfinding her very handsome, said it was but just that she should try, andthat he had orders to let every one make trial. He obliged Cinderella tosit down, and putting the slipper to her foot, he found it went in veryeasily and fitted her as if it had been made of wax. The astonishmenther two sisters were in was excessively great, but still abundantlygreater when Cinderella pulled out of her pocket the other slipper andput it on her foot. Thereupon in came her godmother, who having touched, with her wand, Cinderella's clothes, made them richer and moremagnificent than any of those she had before. And now her two sisters found her to be that fine beautiful lady whomthey had seen at the ball. They threw themselves at her feet to begpardon for all the ill treatment they had made her undergo. Cinderellatook them up, and as she embraced them, cried that she forgave them withall her heart and desired them always to love her. She was conducted tothe young prince, dressed as she was. He thought her more charming thanever, and a few days after, married her. Cinderella, who was no lessgood than beautiful, gave her two sisters lodgings in the palace, andthat very same day matched them with two great lords of the court. 166 The hero of the next story is often known as Drakesbill, which easily becomes Bill Drake. The version that follows is a translation from the French of Charles Marelles as given by Lang in his _Red Fairy Book_. It has a raciness not in those softened versions in which one friend gets into a pocket, another under a wing, and so on. The persistent energy of the little hero, his resourcefulness in difficulty, his loyal friends, the unexpected honor that comes as recognition of his success, the humor that pervades every character and incident, make this one of the most delightful of children's stories. DRAKESTAIL Drakestail was very little, that is why he was called Drakestail; buttiny as he was he had brains, and he knew what he was about, for havingbegun with nothing he ended by amassing a hundred crowns. Now the kingof the country, who was very extravagant and never kept any money, having heard that Drakestail had some, went one day in his own person toborrow his hoard, and, my word, in those days Drakestail was not alittle proud of having lent money to the king. But after the first andsecond year, seeing that he never even dreamed of paying the interest, he became uneasy, so much so that at last he resolved to go and see hismajesty himself, and get repaid. So one fine morning Drakestail, veryspruce and fresh, takes the road, singing: "Quack, quack, quack, whenshall I get my money back?" He had not gone far when he met friend Fox, on his rounds that way. "Good-morning, neighbor, " says the friend; "where are you off to soearly?" "I am going to the king for what he owes me. " "Oh! take me with thee!" Drakestail said to himself: "One can't have too many friends. " Aloudsays he, "I will, but going on all fours you will soon be tired. Makeyourself quite small, get into my throat--go into my gizzard, and I willcarry you. " "Happy thought!" says friend Fox. He takes bag and baggage, and, presto! is gone like a letter into thepost. And Drakestail is off again, all spruce and fresh, still singing:"Quack, quack, quack, when shall I have my money back?" He had not gone far when he met his lady friend, Ladder, leaning on herwall. "Good-morning, my duckling, " says the lady friend, "whither away sobold?" "I am going to the king for what he owes me. " "Oh! take me with thee!" Drakestail said to himself: "One can't have too many friends. " Aloudsays he: "I will, but then with your wooden legs you will soon be tired. Make yourself quite small, get into my throat--go into my gizzard, and Iwill carry you. " "Happy thought!" says my friend Ladder, and nimble, bag and baggage, goes to keep company with friend Fox. And "Quack, quack, quack, " Drakestail is off again, singing and spruceas before. A little further he meets his sweetheart, my friend River, wandering quietly in the sunshine. "Thou, my cherub, " says she, "whither so lonesome, with arching tail, onthis muddy road?" "I am going to the king, you know, for what he owes me. " "Oh! take me with thee!" Drakestail said to himself: "One can't have too many friends. " Aloudsays he: "I will, but you who sleep while you walk will soon get tired. Make yourself quite small, get into my throat--go into my gizzard, and Iwill carry you. " "Ah! happy thought!" says my friend River. She takes bag and baggage, and glou, glou, glou she takes her placebetween friend Fox and my friend Ladder. And "Quack, quack, quack, " Drakestail is off again singing. A little further on he meets comrade Wasp's-nest, maneuvering his wasps. "Well, good-morning, friend Drakestail, " said comrade Wasp's-nest, "where are we bound for, so spruce and fresh?" "I am going to the king for what he owes me. " "Oh! take me with thee!" Drakestail said to himself, "One can't have too many friends. " Aloudsays he: "I will, but then with your battalion to drag along, you willsoon be tired. Make yourself quite small, go into my throat--get into mygizzard, and I will carry you. " "By Jove! that's a good idea!" says comrade Wasp's-nest. And left file! he takes the same road to join the others with all hisparty. There was not much room, but by closing up a bit they managed. And Drakestail is off again singing. He arrived thus at the capital, and threaded his way straight up theHigh Street, still running and singing, "Quack, quack, quack, when shallI get my money back?" to the great astonishment of the good folks, tillhe came to the king's palace. He strikes with the knocker: "Toc! toc!" "Who is there?" asks the porter, putting his head out of the wicket. "'Tis I, Drakestail. I wish to speak to the king. " "Speak to the king! That's easily said. The king is dining, and will notbe disturbed. " "Tell him that it is I, and I have come he well knows why. " The porter shuts his wicket and goes up to say it to the king, who wasjust sitting down to dinner with a napkin round his neck, and all hisministers. "Good, good!" said the king, laughing. "I know what it is! Make him comein, and put him with the turkeys and chickens. " The porter descends. "Have the goodness to enter. " "Good!" says Drakestail to himself, "I shall now see how they eat atcourt. " "This way, this way, " says the porter. "One step further. There, thereyou are. " "How? what? in the poultry-yard?" Fancy how vexed Drakestail was! "Ah! so that's it, " says he. "Wait! I will compel you to receive me. Quack, quack, quack, when shall I get my money back?" But turkeys andchickens are creatures who don't like people that are not as themselves. When they saw the new-comer and how he was made, and when they heard himcrying too, they began to look black at him. "What is it? What does he want?" Finally they rushed at him all together, to overwhelm him with pecks. "I am lost!" said Drakestail to himself, when by good luck he remembershis comrade friend Fox, and he cries: "Reynard, Reynard, come out of your earth, Or Drakestail's life is of little worth. " Then friend Fox, who was only waiting for these words, hastens out, throws himself on the wicked fowls, and quick! quack! he tears them topieces; so much so that at the end of five minutes there was not oneleft alive. And Drakestail, quite content, began to sing again, "Quack, quack, quack, when shall I get my money back?" When the king, who was still at table, heard this refrain, and thepoultry-woman came to tell him what had been going on in the yard, hewas terribly annoyed. He ordered them to throw this tail of a drake into the well, to make anend of him. And it was done as he commanded. Drakestail was in despair of gettinghimself out of such a deep hole, when he remembered his lady friendLadder. "Ladder, Ladder, come out of thy hold, Or Drakestail's days will soon be told. " My friend Ladder, who was only waiting for these words, hastens out, leans her two arms on the edge of the well; then Drakestail climbsnimbly on her back, and hop! he is in the yard, where he begins to singlouder than ever. When the king, who was still at table and laughing at the good trick hehad played his creditor, heard him again reclaiming his money, he becamelivid with rage. He commanded that the furnace should be heated, and this tail of a drakethrown into it, because he must be a sorcerer. The furnace was soon hot, but this time Drakestail was not so afraid; hecounted on his sweetheart, my friend River. "River, River, outward flow, Or to death Drakestail must go. " My friend River hastens out, and errouf! throws herself into thefurnace, which she floods, with all the people who had lighted it; afterwhich she flowed growling into the hall of the palace to the height ofmore than four feet. And Drakestail, quite content, begins to swim, singing deafeningly, "Quack, quack, quack, when shall I get my money back?" The king was still at table, and thought himself quite sure of his game;but when he heard Drakestail singing again, and when they told him allthat had passed, he became furious and got up from the table brandishinghis fists. "Bring him here, and I'll cut his throat! Bring him here quick!" criedhe. And quickly two footmen ran to fetch Drakestail. "At last, " said the poor chap, going up the great stairs, "they havedecided to receive me. " Imagine his terror when on entering he sees the king as red as a turkeycock, and all his ministers attending him standing sword in hand. Hethought this time it was all up with him. Happily he remembered thatthere was still one remaining friend, and he cried with dying accents: "Wasp's nest, Wasp's nest, make a sally, Or Drakestail nevermore may rally. " Hereupon the scene changes. "Bs, bs, bayonet them!" The brave Wasp's-nest rushes out with all hiswasps. They threw themselves on the infuriated king and his ministers, and stung them so fiercely in the face that they lost their heads, andnot knowing where to hide themselves they all jumped pell-mell from thewindow and broke their necks on the pavement. Behold Drakestail much astonished, all alone in the big saloon andmaster of the field. He could not get over it. Nevertheless, he remembered shortly what he had come for to the palace, and improving the occasion, he set to work to hunt for his dear money. But in vain he rummaged in all the drawers; he found nothing; all hadbeen spent. And ferreting thus from room to room he came at last to the one with thethrone in it, and feeling fatigued, he sat himself down on it to thinkover his adventure. In the meanwhile the people had found their king andhis ministers with their feet in the air on the pavement, and they hadgone into the palace to know how it had occurred. On entering thethrone-room, when the crowd saw that there was already someone on theroyal seat, they broke out in cries of surprise and joy: "The King is dead, long live the King! Heaven has sent us down this thing. " Drakestail, who was no longer surprised at anything, received theacclamations of the people as if he had never done anything else all hislife. A few of them certainly murmured that a Drakestail would make a fineking; those who knew him replied that a knowing Drakestail was a moreworthy king than a spendthrift like him who was lying on the pavement. In short, they ran and took the crown off the head of the deceased, andplaced it on that of Drakestail, whom it fitted like wax. Thus he became king. "And now, " said he after the ceremony, "ladies and gentlemen, let's goto supper. I am so hungry!" 167 The story of "Beauty and the Beast, " while very old in its ruder forms, is known to us in a fine version which comes from the middle of the eighteenth century. Madame de Villeneuve, a French writer of some note and a follower of Perrault in the field of the fairy tale, published in 1740 a collection of stories (_Contes Marins_) supposed to be told by an old woman during a voyage to St. Domingo. Among these was "Beauty and the Beast" in a long-winded style extending to more than 250 pages. In 1757, a greatly abridged form of this version was published by Madame de Beaumont, who was then living in England and who wrote many spirited tales designed for children. Her stories are full of the didactic element, and "Beauty and the Beast" is no exception to the rule. These "edifying commonplaces, " however, are so sound and fit into the story so naturally that the reader does not suffer from their presence. The artificial character of the story is easily felt in contrast to the natural qualities of a folk version. The plot has all the perfection of a finished piece of literary art, and for this quality especially Madame de Beaumont's abridgement has always been heartily and rightly admired. BEAUTY AND THE BEAST Once upon a time, in a far-off country, there lived a merchant who hadbeen so fortunate in all his undertakings that he was enormously rich. As he had, however, six sons and six daughters, he found that his moneywas not too much to let them have everything they fancied, as they wereaccustomed to do. But one day a most unexpected misfortune befell them. Their house caughtfire and was speedily burned to the ground, with all the splendidfurniture, the books, pictures, gold, silver, and precious goods itcontained; and this was only the beginning of their troubles. Theirfather, who had until this moment prospered in all ways, suddenly lostevery ship he had upon the sea, either by dint of pirates, shipwreck, orfire. Then he heard that his clerks in distant countries, whom he hadtrusted entirely, had proved unfaithful, and at last from great wealthhe fell into direst poverty. All that he had left was a little house in a desolate place at least ahundred leagues from the town in which he had lived, and to this he wasforced to retreat with his children, who were in despair at the idea ofleading such a different life. Indeed, the daughters at first hoped thattheir friends, who had been so numerous while they were rich, wouldinsist on their staying in their houses now they no longer possessedone. But they soon found that they were left alone, and that theirformer friends even attributed their misfortunes to their ownextravagance, and showed no intention of offering them any help. Sonothing was left for them but to take their departure to the cottage, which stood in the midst of a dark forest, and seemed to be the mostdismal place upon the face of the earth. As they were too poor to have any servants, the girls had to work hard, like peasants, and the sons, for their part, cultivated the fields toearn their living. Roughly clothed, and living in the simplest way, thegirls regretted unceasingly the luxuries and amusements of their formerlife; only the youngest tried to be brave and cheerful. She had been assad as anyone when the misfortune first overtook her father, but, soonrecovering her natural gayety, she set to work to make the best ofthings, to amuse her father and brothers as well as she could, and totry to persuade her sisters to join her in dancing and singing. But theywould do nothing of the sort, and because she was not as doleful asthemselves they declared that this miserable life was all she was fitfor. But she was really far prettier and cleverer than they were;indeed, she was so lovely that she was always called Beauty. After twoyears, when they were all beginning to get used to their new life, something happened to disturb their tranquillity. Their father receivedthe news that one of his ships, which he had believed to be lost, hadcome safely into port with a rich cargo. All the sons and daughters at once thought that their poverty was at anend and wanted to set out directly for the town, but their father, whowas more prudent, begged them to wait a little, and though it washarvest-time and he could ill be spared, determined to go himself firstto make inquiries. Only the youngest daughter had any doubt but thatthey would soon be as rich as they were before, or at least rich enoughto live comfortably in some town where they would find amusement and gaycompanions once more. So they all loaded their father with commissionsfor jewels and dresses which it would have taken a fortune to buy; onlyBeauty, feeling sure that it was of no use, did not ask for anything. Her father, noticing her silence, said: "And what shall I bring for you, Beauty?" "The only thing I wish for is to see you come home safely, " sheanswered. But this reply vexed her sisters, who fancied she was blaming them forhaving asked for such costly things. Her father was pleased, but as hethought that at her age she certainly ought to like pretty presents, hetold her to choose something. "Well, dear father, " said she, "as you insist upon it, I beg that youwill bring me a rose. I have not seen one since we came here, and I lovethem so much. " So the merchant set out and reached the town as quickly as possible, butonly to find that his former companions, believing him to be dead, haddivided between them the goods which the ship had brought; and after sixmonths of trouble and expense he found himself as poor as when hestarted, having been able to recover only just enough to pay the costof the journey. To make matters worse, he was obliged to leave the townin terrible weather, so that by the time he was within a few leagues ofhis home he was almost exhausted with cold and fatigue. Though he knewit would take some hours to get through the forest, he was so anxious tobe at his journey's end that he resolved to go on; but night overtookhim, and the deep snow and bitter frost made it impossible for his horseto carry him any further. Not a house was to be seen. The only shelterhe could get was the hollow trunk of a great tree, and there he crouchedall the night, which seemed to him the longest he had ever known. Inspite of his weariness the howling of the wolves kept him awake, andeven when at last the day broke he was not much better off, for thefalling snow had covered up every path and he did not know which way toturn. At length he made out some sort of track, and though at the beginning itwas so rough and slippery that he fell down more than once, it presentlybecame easier and led him into an avenue of trees which ended in asplendid castle. It seemed to the merchant very strange that no snow hadfallen in the avenue, which was entirely composed of orange-trees, covered with flowers and fruit. When he reached the first court of thecastle he saw before him a flight of agate steps, and went up them andpassed through several splendidly furnished rooms. The pleasant warmthof the air revived him and he felt very hungry; but there seemed to benobody in all this vast and splendid palace whom he could ask to givehim something to eat. Deep silence reigned everywhere, and at last, tired of roaming through empty rooms and galleries, he stopped in a roomsmaller than the rest, where a clear fire was burning and a couch wasdrawn up cozily, close to it. Thinking that this must be prepared forsome one who was expected, he sat down to wait till he should come andvery soon fell into a sweet sleep. When his extreme hunger wakened him after several hours he was stillalone, but a little table, upon which was a good dinner, had been drawnup close to him, and as he had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours helost no time in beginning his meal, hoping that he might soon have anopportunity of thanking his considerate entertainer, whoever it mightbe. But no one appeared, and even after another long sleep, from whichhe awoke completely refreshed, there was no sign of anybody, though afresh meal of dainty cakes and fruit was prepared upon a little table athis elbow. Being naturally timid, the silence began to terrify him, andhe resolved to search once more through all the rooms; but it was of nouse. Not even a servant was to be seen; there was no sign of life in thepalace! He began to wonder what he should do, and to amuse himself bypretending that all the treasures he saw were his own, and consideringhow he would divide them among his children. Then he went down into thegarden, and though it was winter everywhere else, here the sun shone, and the birds sang, and the flowers bloomed, and the air was soft andsweet. The merchant, in ecstasies with all he saw and heard, said tohimself: "All this must be meant for me. I will go this minute and bring mychildren to share all these delights. " In spite of being so cold and weary when he reached the castle, he hadtaken his horse to the stable and fed it. Now he thought he would saddleit for his homeward journey, and he turned down the path which led tothe stable. This path had a hedge of roses on each side of it, and themerchant thought he had never seen or smelled such exquisite flowers. They reminded him of his promise to Beauty, and he stopped and had justgathered one to take to her when he was startled by a strange noisebehind him. Turning round he saw a frightful beast, which seemed to bevery angry and said in a terrible voice: "Who told you that you mightgather my roses? Was it not enough that I allowed you to be in my palaceand was kind to you? This is the way you show your gratitude, bystealing my flowers! But your insolence shall not go unpunished. " The merchant, terrified by these furious words, dropped the fatal rose, and throwing himself on his knees cried: "Pardon me, noble sir. I amtruly grateful to you for your hospitality, which was so magnificentthat I could not imagine that you would be offended by my taking such alittle thing as a rose. " But the beast's anger was not lessened by thisspeech. "You are very ready with excuses and flattery, " he cried; "but that willnot save you from the death you deserve. " "Alas!" thought the merchant, "if my daughter Beauty could only knowwhat danger her rose has brought me into!" And in despair be began to tell the beast all his misfortunes and thereason of his journey, not forgetting to mention Beauty's request. "A king's ransom would hardly have procured all that my other daughtersasked, " he said, "but I thought that I might at least take Beauty herrose. I beg you to forgive me, for you see I meant no harm. " The beast considered for a moment, and then he said in a less furioustone: "I will forgive you on one condition--that is, that you will give me oneof your daughters. " "Ah!" cried the merchant, "if I were cruel enough to buy my own life atthe expense of one of my children's, what excuse could I invent to bringher here?" "No excuse would be necessary, " answered the beast. "If she comes at allshe must come willingly. On no other condition will I have her. See ifany one of them is courageous enough and loves you well enough to comeand save your life. You seem to be an honest man, so I will trust you togo home. I give you a month to see if either of your daughters will comeback with you and stay here, to let you go free. If neither of them iswilling you must come alone, after bidding them good-by forever, forthen you will belong to me. And do not imagine that you can hide fromme, for if you fail to keep your word I will come and fetch you!" addedthe beast grimly. The merchant accepted this proposal, though he did not really think anyof his daughters would be persuaded to come. He promised to return atthe time appointed, and then, anxious to escape from the presence of thebeast, he asked permission to set off at once. But the beast answeredthat he could not go until the next day. "Then you will find a horse ready for you, " he said. "Now go and eatyour supper and await my orders. " The poor merchant, more dead than alive, went back to his room, wherethe most delicious supper was already served on the little table whichwas drawn up before a blazing fire. But he was too terrified to eat, andonly tasted a few of the dishes, for fear the beast should be angry ifhe did not obey his orders. When he had finished he heard a great noisein the next room, which he knew meant that the beast was coming. As hecould do nothing to escape his visit, the only thing that remained wasto seem as little afraid as possible; so when the beast appeared andasked roughly if he had supped well, the merchant answered humbly thathe had, thanks to his host's kindness. Then the beast warned him toremember their agreement and to prepare his daughter exactly for whatshe had to expect. "Do not get up to-morrow, " he added, "until you see the sun and hear agolden bell ring. Then you will find your breakfast waiting for youhere, and the horse you are to ride will be ready in the court-yard. Hewill also bring you back again when you come with your daughter a monthhence. Farewell. Take a rose to Beauty, and remember your promise. " The merchant was only too glad when the beast went away, and though hecould not sleep for sadness, he lay down until the sun rose. Then, aftera hasty breakfast, he went to gather Beauty's rose and mounted hishorse, which carried him off so swiftly that in an instant he had lostsight of the palace, and he was still wrapped in gloomy thoughts when itstopped before the door of the cottage. His sons and daughters, who had been very uneasy at his long absence, rushed to meet him, eager to know the result of his journey, which, seeing him mounted upon a splendid horse and wrapped in a rich mantle, they supposed to be favorable. But he hid the truth from them at first, only saying sadly to Beauty as he gave her the rose: "Here is what you asked me to bring you. You little know what it hascost. " But this excited their curiosity so greatly that presently he told themhis adventures from beginning to end, and then they were all veryunhappy. The girls lamented loudly over their lost hopes, and the sonsdeclared that their father should not return to this terrible castle, and began to make plans for killing the beast if it should come to fetchhim. But he reminded them that he had promised to go back. Then thegirls were very angry with Beauty and said it was all her fault, andthat if she had asked for something sensible this would never havehappened, and complained bitterly that they should have to suffer forher folly. Poor Beauty, much distressed, said to them: "I have indeed caused this misfortune, but I assure you I did itinnocently. Who could have guessed that to ask for a rose in the middleof summer would cause so much misery? But as I did the mischief it isonly just that I should suffer for it. I will therefore go back with myfather to keep his promise. " At first nobody would hear of this arrangement, and her father andbrothers, who loved her dearly, declared that nothing should make themlet her go; but Beauty was firm. As the time drew near she divided allher little possessions between her sisters and said good-by toeverything she loved, and when the fatal day came she encouraged andcheered her father as they mounted together the horse which had broughthim back. It seemed to fly rather than gallop, but so smoothly thatBeauty was not frightened; indeed, she would have enjoyed the journey ifshe had not feared what might happen to her at the end of it. Her fatherstill tried to persuade her to go back, but in vain. While they weretalking the night fell, and then, to their surprise, wonderful coloredlights began to shine in all directions, and splendid fireworks blazedout before them. All the forest was illuminated by them, and even feltpleasantly warm, though it had been bitterly cold before. This lasteduntil they reached the avenue of orange-trees, where were statuesholding flaming torches, and when they got nearer to the palace they sawthat it was illuminated from the roof to the ground, and music soundedsoftly from the court-yard. "The beast must be very hungry, " saidBeauty, trying to laugh, "if he makes all this rejoicing over thearrival of his prey. " But in spite of her anxiety she could not help admiring all thewonderful things she saw. The horse stopped at the foot of the flight of steps leading to theterrace, and when they had dismounted her father led her to the littleroom he had been in before, where they found a splendid fire burning andthe table daintily spread with a delicious supper. The merchant knew that this was meant for them, and Beauty, who wasrather less frightened now that she had passed through so many rooms andseen nothing of the beast, was quite willing to begin, for her long ridehad made her very hungry. But they had hardly finished their meal whenthe noise of the beast's footsteps was heard approaching, and Beautyclung to her father in terror, which became all the greater when she sawhow frightened he was. But when the beast really appeared, though shetrembled at the sight of him, she made a great effort to hide her horrorand saluted him respectfully. This evidently pleased the beast. After looking at her he said, in atone that might have struck terror into the boldest heart, though he didnot seem to be angry: "Good-evening, old man. Good-evening, Beauty. " The merchant was too terrified to reply, but Beauty answered sweetly: "Good-evening, beast. " "Have you come willingly?" asked the beast. "Will you be content to stayhere when your father goes away?" Beauty answered bravely that she was quite prepared to stay. "I am pleased with you, " said the beast. "As you have come of your ownaccord, you may stay. As for you, old man, " he added, turning to themerchant, "at sunrise to-morrow you will take your departure. When thebell rings get up quickly and eat your breakfast, and you will find thesame horse waiting to take you home; but remember that you must neverexpect to see my palace again. " Then turning to Beauty he said: "Take your father into the next room and help him to choose everythingyou think your brothers and sisters would like to have. You will findtwo traveling-trunks there; fill them as full as you can. It is onlyjust that you should send them something very precious as a remembranceof yourself. " Then he went away after saying, "Good-by, Beauty; good-by, old man"; andthough Beauty was beginning to think with great dismay of her father'sdeparture, she was afraid to disobey the beast's orders, and they wentinto the next room, which had shelves and cupboards all round it. Theywere greatly surprised at the riches it contained. There were splendiddresses fit for a queen, with all the ornaments that were to be wornwith them; and when Beauty opened the cupboards she was quite dazzled bythe gorgeous jewels that lay in heaps upon every shelf. After choosing avast quantity, which she divided between her sisters--for she made aheap of the wonderful dresses for each of them--she opened the lastchest, which was full of gold. "I think, father, " she said, "that as the gold will be more useful toyou we had better take out the other things again and fill the trunkswith it. " So they did this; but the more they put in the more room thereseemed to be, and at last they put back all the jewels and dresses theyhad taken out, and Beauty even added as many more of the jewels as shecould carry at once; and then the trunks were not too full, but theywere so heavy that an elephant could not have carried them! "The beast was mocking us, " cried the merchant. "He must have pretendedto give us all these things, knowing that I could not carry them away. " "Let us wait and see, " answered Beauty. "I cannot believe that he meantto deceive us. All we can do is to fasten them up and leave them ready. " So they did this and returned to the little room, where, to theirastonishment, they found breakfast ready. The merchant ate his with agood appetite, as the beast's generosity made him believe that he mightperhaps venture to come back soon and see Beauty. But she felt sure thather father was leaving her forever, so she was very sad when the bellrang sharply for the second time and warned them that the time had comefor them to part. They went down into the court-yard, where two horseswere waiting, one loaded with the two trunks, the other for him to ride. They were pawing the ground in their impatience to start, and, themerchant was forced to bid Beauty a hasty farewell; and as soon as hewas mounted he went off at such a pace that she lost sight of him in aninstant. Then Beauty began to cry and wandered back to her own room. But she soonfound that she was very sleepy, and as she had nothing better to do shelay down and instantly fell asleep. And then she dreamed that she waswalking by a brook bordered with trees and lamenting her sad fate, whena young prince, handsomer than anyone she had ever seen, and with avoice that went straight to her heart, came and said to her: "Ah, Beauty! you are not so unfortunate as you suppose. Here you will berewarded for all you have suffered elsewhere. Your every wish shall begratified. Only try to find me out, no matter how I may be disguised, asI love you dearly, and in making me happy you will find your ownhappiness. Be as true-hearted as you are beautiful, and we shall havenothing left to wish for. " "What can I do, prince, to make you happy?" said Beauty. "Only be grateful, " he answered, "and do not trust too much to youreyes. And above all, do not desert me until you have saved me from mycruel misery. " After this she thought she found herself in a room with a stately andbeautiful lady, who said to her: "Dear Beauty, try not to regret all you have left behind you, for youare destined to a better fate. Only do not let yourself be deceived byappearances. " Beauty found her dreams so interesting that she was in no hurry toawake, but presently the clock roused her by calling her name softlytwelve times, and then she got up and found her dressing-table set outwith everything she could possibly want; and when her toilet wasfinished she found dinner was waiting in the room next to hers. Butdinner does not take very long when you are all by yourself, and verysoon she sat down cozily in the corner of a sofa and began to thinkabout the charming prince she had seen in her dream. "He said I could make him happy, " said Beauty to herself. "It seems, then, that this horrible beast keeps him a prisoner. How can I set himfree? I wonder why they both told me not to trust to appearances. Idon't understand it. But after all it is only a dream, so why should Itrouble myself about it? I had better go and find something to do toamuse myself. " So she got up and began to explore some of the many rooms of the palace. The first she entered was lined with mirrors, and Beauty saw herselfreflected on every side, and thought she had never seen such a charmingroom. Then a bracelet which was hanging from a chandelier caught hereye, and on taking it down she was greatly surprised to find that itheld a portrait of her unknown admirer, just as she had seen him in herdream. With great delight she slipped the bracelet on her arm and wenton into a gallery of pictures, where she soon found a portrait of thesame handsome prince, as large as life and so well painted that as shestudied it he seemed to smile kindly at her. Tearing herself away from the portrait at last, she passed through intoa room which contained every musical instrument under the sun, and hereshe amused herself for a long while in trying some of them and singinguntil she was tired. The next room was a library, and she saw everythingshe had ever wanted to read, as well as everything she had read, and itseemed to her that a whole lifetime would not be enough even to read thenames of the books, there were so many. By this time it was growingdusk, and wax candles in diamond and ruby candlesticks were beginning tolight themselves in every room. Beauty found her supper served just at the time she preferred to haveit, but she did not see anyone or hear a sound, and though her fatherhad warned her that she would be alone, she began to find it ratherdull. But presently she heard the beast coming, and wondered tremblingly if hemeant to eat her up now. However, as he did not seem at all ferocious, and only said gruffly, "Good-evening, Beauty, " she answered cheerfully and managed to concealher terror. Then the beast asked her how she had been amusing herself, and she told him all the rooms she had seen. Then he asked if she thought she could be happy in his palace, andBeauty answered that everything was so beautiful that she would be veryhard to please if she could not be happy. And after about an hour's talkBeauty began to think that the beast was not nearly so terrible as shehad supposed at first. Then he got up to leave her and said in his gruffvoice: "Do you love me, Beauty? Will you marry me?" "Oh! what shall I say?" cried Beauty, for she was afraid to make thebeast angry by refusing. "Say 'yes' or 'no' without fear, " he replied. "Oh! no, beast, " said Beauty hastily. "Since you will not, good-night, Beauty, " he said. And she answered, "Good-night, beast, " very glad to find that her refusal had not provokedhim. And after he was gone she was very soon in bed and asleep anddreaming of her unknown prince. She thought he came and said to her: "Ah, Beauty! why are you so unkind to me? I fear I am fated to beunhappy for many a long day still. " And then her dreams changed, but the charming prince figured in themall; and when morning came her first thought was to look at the portraitand see if it was really like him, and she found that it certainly was. This morning she decided to amuse herself in the garden, for the sunshone and all the fountains were playing; but she was astonished to findthat every place was familiar to her, and presently she came to thebrook where the myrtle trees were growing where she had first met theprince in her dream, and that made her think more than ever that he mustbe kept a prisoner by the beast. When she was tired she went back to thepalace, and found a new room full of materials for every kind ofwork--ribbons to make into bows and silks to work into flowers. Thenthere was an aviary full of rare birds, which were so tame that theyflew to Beauty as soon as they saw her and perched upon her shouldersand her head. "Pretty little creatures, " she said, "how I wish that your cage wasnearer to my room, that I might often hear you sing!" So saying she opened a door and found to her delight that it led intoher own room, though she had thought it was quite the other side of thepalace. There were more birds in a room further on, parrots and cockatoos thatcould talk, and they greeted Beauty by name. Indeed, she found them soentertaining that she took one or two back to her room, and they talkedto her while she was at supper; after which the beast paid her his usualvisit and asked the same questions as before, and then with a gruff"good-night" he took his departure, and Beauty went to bed to dream ofher mysterious prince. The days passed swiftly in different amusements, and after a while Beauty found out another strange thing in the palace, which often pleased her when she was tired of being alone. There was oneroom which she had not noticed particularly. It was empty, except thatunder each of the windows stood a very comfortable chair, and the firsttime she had looked out of the window it had seemed to her that a blackcurtain prevented her from seeing anything outside. But the second timeshe went into the room, happening to be tired, she sat down in one ofthe chairs, and instantly the curtain was rolled aside and a mostamusing pantomime was acted before her. There were dances, and coloredlights, and music, and pretty dresses, and it was all so gay that Beautywas in ecstasies. After that she tried the other seven windows in turn, and there was some new and surprising entertainment to be seen from eachof them, so that Beauty never could feel lonely any more. Every eveningafter supper the beast came to see her, and always before sayinggood-night asked her in his terrible voice: "Beauty, will you marry me?" And it seemed to Beauty, now she understood him better, that when shesaid, "No, beast, " he went away quite sad. But her happy dreams of thehandsome young prince soon made her forget the poor beast, and the onlything that at all disturbed her was to be constantly told to distrustappearances, to let her heart guide her, and not her eyes, and manyother equally perplexing things, which, consider as she would, she couldnot understand. So everything went on for a long time, until at last, happy as she was, Beauty began to long for the sight of her father and her brothers andsisters; and one night, seeing her look very sad, the beast asked herwhat was the matter. Beauty had quite ceased to be afraid of him now sheknew that he was really gentle in spite of his ferocious looks and hisdreadful voice. So she answered that she was longing to see her homeonce more. Upon hearing this the beast seemed sadly distressed and criedmiserably: "Ah! Beauty, have you the heart to desert an unhappy beast like this?What more do you want to make you happy? Is it because you hate me thatyou want to escape?" "No, dear beast, " answered Beauty softly, "I do not hate you, and Ishould be very sorry never to see you any more, but I long to see myfather again. Only let me go for two months, and I promise to come backto you and stay for the rest of my life. " The beast, who had been sighing dolefully while she spoke, now replied: "I cannot refuse you anything you ask, even though it should cost me mylife. Take the four boxes you will find in the room next to your own andfill them with everything you wish to take with you. But remember yourpromise and come back when the two months are over, or you may havecause to repent it, for if you do not come in good time you will findyour faithful beast dead. You will not need any chariot to bring youback. Only say good-by to all your brothers and sisters the night beforeyou come away, and when you have gone to bed turn this ring round uponyour finger and say firmly: 'I wish to go back to my palace and see mybeast again. ' Good-night, Beauty. Fear nothing, sleep peacefully, andbefore long you shall see your father once more. " As soon as Beauty was alone she hastened to fill the boxes with all therare and precious things she saw about her, and only when she was tiredof heaping things into them did they seem to be full. Then she went to bed, but could hardly sleep for joy. And when at lastshe did begin to dream of her beloved prince she was grieved to see himstretched upon a grassy bank, sad and weary and hardly like himself. "What is the matter?" she cried. But he looked at her reproachfully and said: "How can you ask me, cruel one? Are you not leaving me to my deathperhaps?" "Ah, don't be so sorrowful!" cried Beauty. "I am only going to assure myfather that I am safe and happy. I have promised the beast faithfullythat I will come back, and he would die of grief if I did not keep myword!" "What would that matter to you?" said the prince. "Surely you would notcare?" "Indeed I should be ungrateful if I did not care for such a kind beast, "cried Beauty indignantly. "I would die to save him from pain. I assureyou it is not his fault that he is so ugly. " Just then a strange sound woke her--someone was speaking not very faraway; and opening her eyes she found herself in a room she had neverseen before, which was certainly not nearly so splendid as those she wasused to in the beast's palace. Where could she be? She got up anddressed hastily, and then saw that the boxes she had packed the nightbefore were all in the room. While she was wondering by what magic thebeast had transported them and herself to this strange place shesuddenly heard her father's voice, and rushed out and greeted himjoyfully. Her brothers and sisters were all astonished at herappearance, as they had never expected to see her again, and there wasno end to the questions they asked her. She had also much to hear aboutwhat had happened to them while she was away and of her father's journeyhome. But when they heard that she had only come to be with them for ashort time, and then must go back to the beast's palace forever, theylamented loudly. Then Beauty asked her father what he thought could bethe meaning of her strange dreams, and why the prince constantly beggedher not to trust to appearances. After much consideration he answered: "You tell me yourself that the beast, frightful as he is, loves youdearly and deserves your love and gratitude for his gentleness andkindness. I think the prince must mean you to understand that you oughtto reward him by doing as he wishes you to, in spite of his ugliness. " Beauty could not help seeing that this seemed very probable. Still, whenshe thought of her dear prince who was so handsome, she did not feel atall inclined to marry the beast. At any rate, for two months she neednot decide, but could enjoy herself with her sisters. But though theywere rich now and lived in a town again and had plenty of acquaintances, Beauty found that nothing amused her very much; and she often thought ofthe palace where she was so happy, especially as at home she never oncedreamed of her dear prince, and she felt quite sad without him. Then her sisters seemed to have got used to being without her, and evenfound her rather in the way, so she would not have been sorry when thetwo months were over but for her father and brothers, who begged her tostay and seemed so grieved at the thought of her departure that she hadnot the courage to say good-by to them. Every day when she got up shemeant to say it at night, and when night came she put it off again, until at last she had a dismal dream which helped her to make up hermind. She thought she was wandering in a lonely path in the palacegardens, when she heard groans which seemed to come from some busheshiding the entrance of a cave, and running quickly to see what could bethe matter, she found the beast stretched out upon his side, apparentlydying. He reproached her faintly with being the cause of his distress, and at the same moment a stately lady appeared and said very gravely: "Ah, Beauty! you are only just in time to save his life. See whathappens when people do not keep their promises! If you had delayed oneday more you would have found him dead. " Beauty was so terrified by this dream that the next morning sheannounced her intention of going back at once, and that very night shesaid good-by to her father and all her brothers and sisters, and as soonas she was in bed she turned her ring round upon her finger and saidfirmly, "I wish to go back to my palace and see my beast again, " as shehad been told to do. Then she fell asleep instantly, and only woke up to hear the clocksaying "Beauty, Beauty, " twelve times in its musical voice, which toldher at once that she was really in the palace once more. Everything wasjust as before, and her birds were so glad to see her; but Beautythought she had never known such a long day, for she was so anxious tosee the beast again that she felt as if supper time would never come. But when it did come and no beast appeared she was really frightened; soafter listening and waiting for a long time she ran down into the gardento search for him. Up and down the paths and avenues ran poor Beauty, calling him in vain, for no one answered and not a trace of him couldshe find, until at last, quite tired, she stopped for a minute's restand saw that she was standing opposite the shady path she had seen inher dream. She rushed down it, and, sure enough, there was the cave, andin it lay the beast--asleep, as Beauty thought. Quite glad to have foundhim, she ran up and stroked his head, but, to her horror, he did notmove or open his eyes. "Oh! he is dead, and it is all my fault, " said Beauty, crying bitterly. But then, looking at him again, she fancied he still breathed, andhastily fetching some water from the nearest fountain, she sprinkled itover his face, and to her great delight he began to revive. "Oh, beast! how you frightened me!" she cried. "I never knew how much Iloved you until just now, when I feared I was too late to save yourlife. " "Can you really love such an ugly creature as I am?" said the beastfaintly. "Ah, Beauty! you only came just in time. I was dying because Ithought you had forgotten your promise. But go back now and rest. Ishall see you again by and by. " Beauty, who had half expected that he would be angry with her, wasreassured by his gentle voice and went back to the palace, where supperwas awaiting her; and afterward the beast came in as usual and talkedabout the time she had spent with her father, asking if she had enjoyedherself and if they had all been very glad to see her. Beauty answered politely, and quite enjoyed telling him all that hadhappened to her. And when at last the time came for him to go, and heasked, as he had so often asked before, "Beauty, will you marry me?" sheanswered softly: "Yes, dear beast. " As she spoke a blaze of light sprang up before the windows of thepalace; fireworks crackled and guns banged, and across the avenue oforange trees, in letters all made of fireflies, was written: "Long livethe prince and his bride. " Turning to ask the beast what it could all mean, Beauty found that hehad disappeared, and in his place stood her long-loved prince! At thesame moment the wheels of a chariot were heard upon the terrace and twoladies entered the room. One of them Beauty recognized as the statelylady she had seen in her dreams; the other was also so grand and queenlythat Beauty hardly knew which to greet first. But the one she already knew said to her companion: "Well, queen, this is Beauty, who has had the courage to rescue your sonfrom the terrible enchantment. They love one another, and only yourconsent to their marriage is wanting to make them perfectly happy. " "I consent with all my heart, " cried the queen. "How can I ever thankyou enough, charming girl, for having restored my dear son to hisnatural form?" And then she tenderly embraced Beauty and the prince, who had meanwhilebeen greeting the fairy and receiving her congratulations. "Now, " said the fairy to Beauty, "I suppose you would like me to sendfor all your brothers and sisters to dance at your wedding?" And so she did, and the marriage was celebrated the very next day withthe utmost splendor, and Beauty and the prince lived happily ever after. 168 Peter Asbjörnsen (1812-1885) and Jorgen Moe (1813-1882) were the first scientific collectors of the folk tales of Norway. Their joint interest in folk tales began when they were schoolboys wandering on foot through the country and listening to peasant stories. This interest continued after Moe had become a theologian and Asbjörnsen a noted scientist. The latter served the government as an expert connected with the survey and development of his country's natural resources. This resulted in taking him to all parts of the land, and he never lost an opportunity to hear and copy down any folk tale that he found surviving in the more isolated districts. In 1842-1844 appeared _Norwegian Folk Tales_ by Moe and Asbjörnsen; in 1845, _Norwegian Fairy Tales and Folk Legends_; and there were subsequent additions. The five tales following are from these Norse collections. They were first made accessible in English in Dasent's _Popular Tales from the Norse_ (1858). This book with its long introductory essay on the origin and diffusion of popular tales constitutes a landmark in the study of folklore. It and Dasent's later volume, _Tales from the Fjeld_, are still, perhaps, the best sources for versions of the Norse popular tales. "Why the Bear Is Stumpy-tailed" belongs to the class of stories which explain how things happened to be as they are. It is of great antiquity and is found over most of the world. The greatest of all modern nature fairy tales, Kipling's _Just So Stories_, are of a similar type, though told at greater length and, of course, with infinitely greater art. WHY THE BEAR IS STUMPY-TAILED One day the Bear met the Fox, who came slinking along with a string offish he had stolen. "Whence did you get those?" asked the Bear. "Oh! my Lord Bruin, I've been out fishing and caught them, " said theFox. So the Bear had a mind to learn to fish too, and bade the Fox tell himhow he was to set about it. "Oh! it's an easy craft for you, " answered the Fox, "and soon learnt. You've only got to go upon the ice, and cut a hole and stick your taildown into it; and so you must go on holding it there as long as you can. You're not to mind if your tail smarts a little; that's when the fishbite. The longer you hold it there the more fish you'll get; and thenall at once out with it, with a cross pull sideways, and with a strongpull too. " Yes; the Bear did as the Fox had said, and held his tail a long, longtime down in the hole, till it was fast frozen in. Then he pulled it outwith a cross pull, and it snapped short off. That's why Bruin goes aboutwith a stumpy tail this very day. 169 The following is from Dasent's _Popular Tales from the Norse_ and has long been a favorite with the younger children by reason of its remarkable compactness and its strong accumulative force. The Troll of northern stories is the Ogre of those farther south. The story has a closing formula which may often have been used for other stories as well. (For an opening verse formula see the note on "The Story of the Three Little Pigs, " No. 151. ) THE THREE BILLY-GOATS GRUFF Once on a time there were three Billy-goats who were to go up to thehillside to make themselves fat, and the name of all the three was"Gruff. " On the way up was a bridge over a burn they had to cross; and under thebridge lived a great ugly Troll, with eyes as big as saucers and a noseas long as a poker. So first of all came the youngest billy-goat Gruff to cross the bridge. "Trip, trap; trip, trap!" went the bridge. "WHO'S THAT tripping over my bridge?" roared the Troll. "Oh! it is only I, the tiniest billy-goat Gruff; and I'm going up to thehill-side to make myself fat, " said the billy-goat, with such a smallvoice. "Now, I'm coming to gobble you up, " said the Troll. "Oh, no! pray don't take me. I'm too little, that I am, " said thebilly-goat. "Wait a bit till the second billy-goat Gruff comes; he'smuch bigger. " "Well! be off with you, " said the Troll. A little while after came the second billy-goat Gruff to cross thebridge. "TRIP, TRAP! TRIP, TRAP! TRIP, TRAP!" went the bridge. "WHO'S THAT tripping over my bridge?" roared the Troll. "Oh! it's the second billy-goat Gruff, and I'm going up to the hill-sideto make myself fat, " said the billy-goat, who hadn't such a small voice. "Now, I'm coming to gobble you up, " said the Troll. "Oh, no! don't take me. Wait a little till the big billy-goat Gruffcomes; he's much bigger. " "Very well! be off with you, " said the Troll. But just then up came the big billy-goat Gruff. "TRIP, TRAP! TRIP, TRAP! TRIP, TRAP!" went the bridge, for thebilly-goat was so heavy that the bridge creaked and groaned under him. "WHO'S THAT tramping over my bridge?" roared the Troll. "It's I! THE BIG BILLY-GOAT GRUFF, " said the billy-goat, who had an uglyhoarse voice of his own. "Now, I'm coming to gobble you up, " roared the Troll. "Well, come along! I've got two spears, And I'll poke your eyeballs out at your ears; I've got besides two curling-stones, And I'll crush you to bits, body and bones. " That was what the big billy-goat said; and so he flew at the Troll andpoked his eyes out with his horns, and crushed him to bits, body andbones, and tossed him out into the burn, and after that he went up tothe hill-side. There the billy-goats got so fat they were scarce able towalk home again; and if the fat hasn't fallen off them, why they'restill fat; and so, -- "Snip, snap, snout, This tale's told out. " 170 The following droll seems to indicate that the folk had a strain of satirical humor which they could use with fine effect. The translation is that of Dasent's _Popular Tales from the Norse_. (An old English verse form of the same story will be found in No. 146. ) The old proverb about the shoemaker sticking to his last is sure to come to mind as one reads, but it seems to lose force when we notice that the "goody" has no trouble with the mowing, while the good "man" has much with the housework! THE HUSBAND WHO WAS TO MIND THE HOUSE Once on a time there was a man so surly and cross he never thought hiswife did anything right in the house. So one evening in hay-making timehe came home scolding and swearing and showing his teeth and making adust. "Dear love, don't be so angry; there's a good man, " said his goody;"to-morrow let's change our work. I'll go out with the mowers and mow, and you shall mind the house at home. " Yes! the husband thought that would do very well. He was quite willing, he said. So, early next morning, his goody took a scythe over her neck and wentout into the hay-field with the mowers and began to mow; but the man wasto mind the house, and do the work at home. First of all, he wanted to churn the butter; but when he had churned awhile, he got thirsty, and went down to the cellar to tap a barrel ofale. So, just when he had knocked in the bung, and was putting the tapinto the cask, he heard overhead the pig come into the kitchen. Then offhe ran up the cellar steps, with the tap in his hand, as fast as hecould, to look after the pig lest it should upset the churn; but when hegot up, and saw the pig had already knocked the churn over, and stoodthere, rooting and grunting amongst the cream which was running all overthe floor, he got so wild with rage that he quite forgot the ale-barrel, and ran at the pig as hard as he could. He caught it, too, just as itran out of doors, and gave it such a kick that piggy lay for dead on thespot. Then all at once he remembered he had the tap in his hand; butwhen he got down to the cellar, every drop of ale had run out of thecask. Then he went into the dairy and found enough cream left to fill thechurn again, and so he began to churn, for butter they must have atdinner. When he had churned a bit, he remembered that their milking cowwas still shut up in the byre, and hadn't had a bit to eat or a drop todrink all the morning, though the sun was high. Then all at once hethought 'twas too far to take her down to the meadow, so he'd just gether up on the house-top--for the house, you must know, was thatched withsods, and a fine crop of grass was growing there. Now their house layclose up against a steep down, and he thought if he laid a plank acrossto the thatch at the back he'd easily get the cow up. But still he couldn't leave the churn, for there was his little babecrawling about on the floor, and "if I leave it, " he thought, "thechild is safe to upset it. " So he took the churn on his back, and wentout with it; but then he thought he'd better first water the cow beforehe turned her out on the thatch; so he took up a bucket to draw waterout of the well; but, as he stooped down at the well's brink, all thecream ran out of the churn over his shoulders, and so down into thewell. Now it was near dinner-time, and he hadn't even got the butter yet; sohe thought he'd best boil the porridge, and filled the pot with waterand hung it over the fire. When he had done that, he thought the cowmight perhaps fall off the thatch and break her legs or her neck. So hegot up on the house to tie her up. One end of the rope he made fast tothe cow's neck, and the other he slipped down the chimney and tied roundhis own thigh; and he had to make haste, for the water now began to boilin the pot, and he had still to grind the oatmeal. So he began to grind away; but while he was hard at it, down fell thecow off the house-top after all, and as she fell, she dragged the man upthe chimney by the rope. There he stuck fast; and as for the cow, shehung half way down the wall, swinging between heaven and earth, for shecould neither get down nor up. And now the goody had waited seven lengths and seven breadths for herhusband to come and call them home to dinner; but never a call they had. At last she thought she'd waited long enough, and went home. But whenshe got there and saw the cow hanging in such an ugly place, she ran upand cut the rope in two with her scythe. But as she did this, down cameher husband out of the chimney; and so when his old dame came inside thekitchen, there she found him standing on his head in the porridge pot. 171 The artistic qualities of "Boots and His Brothers, " from Dasent's _Popular Tales from the Norse_, will impress every reader or listener. It belongs to that very numerous group of stories dealing with the success of the youngest child in the face of opposition, mistreatment, or lack of sympathy from others of his family. "John was Boots, of course, because he was the youngest"; which means that it was the rule to give the most menial tasks about the house to the youngest. But John had the saving trait of always "wondering" about things, which led him to find out what would always be hidden from his more stupid and less imaginative brothers. BOOTS AND HIS BROTHERS Once on a time there was a man who had three sons, Peter, Paul, andJohn. John was Boots, of course, because he was the youngest. I can'tsay the man had anything more than these three sons, for he hadn't onepenny to rub against another; and so he told his sons over and overagain they must go out into the world and try to earn their bread, forthere at home there was nothing to be looked for but starving to death. Now, a bit off the man's cottage was the King's palace, and you mustknow, just against the King's windows a great oak had sprung up, whichwas so stout and big that it took away all the light from the King'spalace. The King had said he would give many, many dollars to the manwho could fell the oak, but no one was man enough for that, for as soonas ever one chip of the oak's trunk flew off, two grew in its stead. Awell, too, the King would have dug, which was to hold water for thewhole year; for all his neighbors had wells, but he hadn't any, and thathe thought a shame. So the King said he would give any one who could dighim such a well as would hold water for a whole year round, both moneyand goods; but no one could do it, for the King's palace lay high, highup on a hill, and they hadn't dug a few inches before they came upon theliving rock. But as the King had set his heart on having these two things done, hehad it given out far and wide, in all the churches of his kingdom, thathe who could fell the big oak in the king's court-yard, and get him awell that would hold water the whole year round, should have thePrincess and half the kingdom. Well! you may easily know there was manya man who came to try his luck; but for all their hacking and hewing, and all their digging and delving, it was no good. The oak got biggerand stouter at every stroke, and the rock didn't get softer either. Soone day those three brothers thought they'd set off and try too, andtheir father hadn't a word against it; for even if they didn't get thePrincess and half the kingdom, it might happen they might get a placesomewhere with a good master; and that was all he wanted. So when thebrothers said they thought of going to the palace, their father said"yes" at once. So Peter, Paul, and Jack went off from their home. Well! they hadn't gone far before they came to a fir wood, and up alongone side of it rose a steep hillside, and as they went, they heardsomething hewing and hacking away up on the hill among the trees. "I wonder now what it is that is hewing away up yonder?" said Jack. "You're always so clever with your wonderings, " said Peter and Paul bothat once. "What wonder is it, pray, that a woodcutter should stand andhack up on a hillside?" "Still, I'd like to see what it is, after all, " said Jack; and up hewent. "Oh, if you're such a child, 'twill do you good to go and take alesson, " bawled out his brothers after him. But Jack didn't care for what they said; he climbed the steep hillsidetowards where the noise came, and when he reached the place, what do youthink he saw? Why, an axe that stood there hacking and hewing, all ofitself, at the trunk of a fir. "Good day!" said Jack. "So you stand here all alone and hew, do you?" "Yes; here I've stood and hewed and hacked a long, long time, waitingfor you, " said the Axe. "Well, here I am at last, " said Jack, as he took the axe, pulled it offits haft, and stuffed both head and haft into his wallet. So when he got down again to his brothers, they began to jeer and laughat him. "And now, what funny thing was it you saw up yonder on the hillside?"they said. "Oh, it was only an axe we heard, " said Jack. So when they had gone a bit farther, they came under a steep spur ofrock, and up there they heard something digging and shoveling. "I wonder now, " said Jack, "what it is digging and shoveling up yonderat the top of the rock!" "Ah, you're always so clever with your wonderings, " said Peter and Paulagain, "as if you'd never heard a woodpecker hacking and pecking at ahollow tree. " "Well, well, " said Jack, "I think it would be a piece of fun just to seewhat it really is. " And so off he set to climb the rock, while the others laughed and madegame of him. But he didn't care a bit for that; up he climbed, and whenhe got near the top, what do you think he saw? Why, a spade that stoodthere digging and delving. "Good day!" said Jack. "So you stand here all alone, and dig and delve!" "Yes, that's what I do, " said the Spade, "and that's what I've done thismany a long day, waiting for you. " "Well, here I am, " said Jack again, as he took the spade and knocked itoff its handle, and put it into his wallet, and then down again to hisbrothers. "Well, what was it, so rare and strange, " said Peter and Paul, "that yousaw up there at the top of the rock?" "Oh, " said Jack, "nothing more than a spade; that was what we heard. " So they went on again a good bit, till they came to a brook. They werethirsty, all three, after their long walk, and so they lay down besidethe brook to have a drink. "I wonder now, " said Jack, "where all this water comes from!" "I wonder if you're right in your head, " said Peter and Paul, in onebreath. "If you're not mad already, you'll go mad very soon, with yourwonderings. Where the brook comes from, indeed! Have you never heard howwater rises from a spring in the earth?" "Yes! but still I've a great fancy to see where this brook comes from, "said Jack. So up alongside the brook he went, in spite of all that his brothersbawled after him. Nothing could stop him. On he went. So, as he went upand up, the brook got smaller and smaller, and at last, a little wayfarther on, what do you think he saw? Why, a great walnut, and out ofthat the water trickled. "Good day!" said Jack again. "So you lie here, and trickle and run downall alone?" "Yes, I do, " said the Walnut, "and here have I trickled and run thismany a long day, waiting for you. " "Well, here I am, " said Jack, as he took up a lump of moss, and pluggedup the hole, that the water mightn't run out. Then he put the walnutinto his wallet, and ran down to his brothers. "Well, now, " said Peter and Paul, "have you found out where the watercomes from? A rare sight it must have been!" "Oh, after all, it was only a hole it ran out of, " said Jack; and so theothers laughed and made game of him again, but Jack didn't mind that abit. "After all, I had the fun of seeing it, " said he. So when they had gone a bit farther, they came to the King's palace; butas every one in the kingdom had heard how they might win the Princessand half the realm, if they could only fell the big oak and dig theKing's well, so many had come to try their luck that the oak was nowtwice as stout and big as it had been at first, for two chips grew forevery one they hewed out with their axes, as I dare say you all bear inmind. So the King had now laid it down as a punishment, that if any onetried and couldn't fell the oak, he should be put on a barren island, and both his ears were to be clipped off. But the two brothers didn'tlet themselves be scared by that; they were quite sure they could fellthe oak, and Peter, as he was eldest, was to try his hand first; but itwent with him as with all the rest who had hewn at the oak; for everychip he cut out, two grew in its place. So the King's men seized him, and clipped off both his ears, and put him out on the island. Now Paul, he was to try his luck, but he fared just the same; when hehad hewn two or three strokes, they began to see the oak grow, and sothe King's men seized him too, and clipped his ears, and put him out onthe island; and his ears they clipped closer, because they said he oughtto have taken a lesson from his brother. So now Jack was to try. "If you _will_ look like a marked sheep, we're quite ready to clip yourears at once, and then you'll save yourself some bother, " said the King, for he was angry with him for his brothers' sake. "Well, I'd like just to try first, " said Jack, and so he got leave. Thenhe took his axe out of his wallet and fitted it to its haft. "Hew away!" said he to his axe; and away it hewed, making the chips flyagain, so that it wasn't long before down came the oak. When that was done, Jack pulled out his spade, and fitted it to itshandle. "Dig away!" said he to the spade; and so the spade began to dig anddelve till the earth and rock flew out in splinters, and so he had thewell soon dug out, you may think. And when he had got it as big and deep as he chose, Jack took out hiswalnut and laid it in one corner of the well, and pulled the plug ofmoss out. "Trickle and run, " said Jack; and so the nut trickled and ran, till thewater gushed out of the hole in a stream, and in a short time the wellwas brimful. Then Jack had felled the oak which shaded the King's palace, and dug awell in the palace-yard, and so he got the Princess and half thekingdom, as the King had said; but it was lucky for Peter and Paul thatthey had lost their ears, else they had heard each hour and day howevery one said, "Well, after all, Jack wasn't so much out of his mindwhen he took to wondering. " 172 For the next story from the Norse group the translation by H. L. Braekstad is used. It is better known under the more familiar title of the Dasent version, "Why the Sea Is Salt. " Braekstad's translation of the Asbjörnsen and Moe stories, illustrated by Norwegian artists, appeared in two volumes called _Round the Yule Log_ and _Fairy Tales from the North_. The story of the magic hand-mill is the story of how an evil brother violated the Christmas spirit and how his curse was turned into good fortune for his better-disposed relative. The naïve idea of the common folk as to the devil's home is especially interesting, as is the acceptance of the fact that a Christmas celebration includes a fine open fire of wood, even in a place of unusual warmth. But perhaps we should remember that in Norse mythology the evil place would be associated with intense cold. Of more importance, however, is the fact that the magic quern brings not good but disaster to those who try to use it in the service of greed. THE QUERN AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA Once upon a time in the old, old days there were two brothers, one ofwhom was rich and the other poor. When Christmas Eve came the poorbrother had not a morsel in the house, neither of meat nor bread; and sohe went to his rich brother and asked for a trifle for Christmas, inheaven's name. It was not the first time the brother had helped him, buthe was always very close-fisted, and was not particularly glad to seehim this time. "If you'll do what I tell you, you shall have a whole ham, " he said. Thepoor brother promised he would, and was very grateful into the bargain. "There it is, and now go to the devil!" said the rich brother, and threwthe ham across to him. "Well, what I have promised I must keep, " said the other one. He tookthe ham, and set out. He walked and walked the whole day, and as it wasgetting dark he came to a place where the lights were shining brightly. "This is most likely the place, " thought the man with the ham. In the woodshed stood an old man with a long white beard, cuttingfire-wood for Christmas. "Good evening, " said he with the ham. "Good evening to you, " said the man. "Where are you going so late?" "I am going to the devil--that is to say, if I am on the right way, "answered the poor man. "Yes, you are quite right; this is his place, " said the old man. "Whenyou get in, they will all want to buy your ham, for ham is scarce foodhere; but you must not sell it unless you get the hand-quern, whichstands just behind the door. When you come out again, I'll teach you howto use it. You will find it useful in many ways. " The man with the ham thanked him for all the information, and knocked atthe door. When he got in, it happened just as the old man had said. All the imps, both big and small, flocked around him like ants in a field, and the oneoutbid the other for the ham. "Well, " said the man, "my good woman and I were to have it for ChristmasEve, but since you want it so badly I will let you have it. But if I amgoing to part with it, I want that hand-quern which stands behind thedoor. " The devil did not like to part with it, and higgled and haggled with theman, but he stuck to what he had said, and in the end the devil had topart with the quern. When the man came out, he asked the old wood-cutter how he was to usethe quern, and when he had learned this, he thanked the old man and setout homewards as quickly as he could; but after all he did not get hometill the clock struck twelve on Christmas Eve. "Where in all the world have you been?" said his wife. "Here have I beensitting, hour after hour, waiting and watching for you, and have not hadas much as two chips to lay under the porridge pot. " "Well, I couldn't get back before, " said the man. "I have had a goodmany things to look after, and I've had a long way to walk as well; butnow I'll show you something, " said he, and put the quern on the table. He asked it first to grind candles, then a cloth, and then food andbeer, and everything else that was good for Christmas cheer; and as hespoke the quern brought them forth. The woman crossed herself time aftertime and wanted to know where her husband had got the quern from; butthis he would not tell her. "It does not matter where I got it from; you see the quern is good andthe mill stream is not likely to freeze, " said the man. So he groundfood and drink and all good things during Christmas; and the third dayhe invited his friends, as he wanted to give them a feast. When the richbrother saw all that was in the house, he became both angry and furious, for he begrudged his brother everything. "On Christmas Eve he was so needy that he came to me and asked for atrifle in heaven's name; and now he gives a feast, as if he were both acount and a king, " said the brother. "Where did you get all your richesfrom?" he said to his brother. "From just behind the door, " he answered, for he did not care to tellhis brother much about it. But later in the evening, when he had drunk alittle freely, he could no longer resist, but brought out the quern. "There you see that which has brought me all my riches, " he said, and sohe let the quern grind first one thing and then another. When the brother saw this, he was determined to have the quern at allcost, and at last it was settled he should have it, but three hundreddollars was to be the price of it. The brother was, however, to keep ittill the harvest began; "for if I keep it so long, I can grind out foodfor many years to come, " he thought. During that time you may be sure the quern did not rust, and when theharvest began the rich brother got it; but the other had taken greatcare not to show him how to use it. It was evening when the rich brother got the quern home, and in themorning he asked his wife to go out and help the haymakers; he would getthe breakfast ready himself to-day, he said. When it was near breakfast time he put the quern on the breakfast table. "Grind herrings and broth, and do it quickly and well, " said the man, and the quern began to bring forth herrings and broth, and filled firstall the dishes and tubs, and afterwards began flooding the wholekitchen. The man fiddled and fumbled and tried to stop the quern, but howevermuch he twisted and fingered it, the quern went on grinding, and in alittle while the broth reached so high that the man was very neardrowning. He then pulled open the parlor door, but it was not longbefore the quern had filled the parlor also, and it was just in the verynick of time that the man put his hand down into the broth and got holdof the latch, and when he had got the door open, he was soon out of theparlor, you may be sure. He rushed out, and the herrings and the brothcame pouring out after him, like a stream, down the fields and meadows. The wife, who was out haymaking, now thought it took too long a time toget the breakfast ready. "If my husband doesn't call us soon, we must go home whether or no: Idon't suppose he knows much about making broth, so I must go and helphim, " said the wife to the haymakers. They began walking homewards, but when they had got a bit up the hillthey met the stream of broth with the herrings tossing about in it andthe man himself running in front of it all. "I wish all of you had a hundred stomachs each!" shouted the man; "buttake care you don't get drowned. " And he rushed past them as if the EvilOne was at his heels, down to where his brother lived. He asked him forheaven's sake to take back the quern, and that at once. "If it goes ongrinding another hour the whole parish will perish in broth andherrings, " he said. But the brother would not take it back on anyaccount before his brother had paid him three hundred dollars more, andthis he had to do. The poor brother now had plenty of money, and beforelong he bought a farm much grander than the one on which his richbrother lived, and with the quern he ground so much gold that he coveredthe farmstead with gold plates and, as it lay close to the shore, itglittered and shone far out at sea. All those who sailed past wanted tocall and visit the rich man in the golden house, and everybody wanted tosee the wonderful quern, for its fame had spread both far and wide, andthere was no one who had not heard it spoken of. After a long while there came a skipper who wanted to see the quern; heasked if it could grind salt. Yes, that it could, said he who owned it;and when the skipper heard this he wanted the quern by hook or by crook, cost what it might, for if he had it he thought he need not sail faraway across dangerous seas for cargoes of salt. At first the man did not want to part with it, but the skipper bothbegged and prayed, and at last he sold it and got many, many thousanddollars for it. As soon as the skipper had got the quern on his back he did not stoplong, for he was afraid the man would change his mind, and as for askinghow to use it, he had no time to do that; he made for his ship asquickly as he could, and when he had got out to sea a bit he had thequern brought up on deck. "Grind salt, and that both quickly and well, " said the skipper, and thequern began to grind out salt so that it spurted to all sides. When the skipper had got the ship filled he wanted to stop the quern, but however much he tried and whatever he did the quern went ongrinding, and the mound of salt grew higher and higher, and at last theship sank. There at the bottom of the sea stands the quern grinding till this veryday, and that is the reason why the sea is salt. 173 The next seven stories are from the best known of all collections of folk tales, the _Kinder und Hausmärchen_ (1812-1815) of the brothers Jacob Grimm (1785-1863) and Wilhelm Grimm (1786-1859). They worked together as scholarly investigators in the field of philology. The world is indebted to them for the creation of the science of folklore. Other writers, such as Perrault, had published collections of folklore, but these two brothers were the first to collect, classify, and publish folk tales in a scientific way. With the trained judgment of scholars they excluded from the stories all details that seemed new or foreign, and put them as nearly as possible into the form in which they had been told by the folk. These _Household Tales_ were first made accessible in English in the translation of Edgar Taylor, published in two volumes in 1823 and 1826, and revised in 1837. There have been later translations, notably the complete one by Margaret Hunt in 1884, but the Taylor version has been the main source of the popular retellings for nearly a hundred years. It included only about fifty of the two hundred tales, and was illustrated by the famous artist George Cruikshank. An edition including all the Taylor translations and the original etchings was issued in 1868 with an introduction by John Ruskin. It is still reprinted under the title, _Grimm's Popular Stories_. "The Traveling Musicians" is from the Taylor translation. It is sometimes called "The Bremen Town Musicians, " or simply "The Town Musicians. " The story is widespread, showing its great popularity. Jacobs finds "the fullest and most dramatic form" in the Irish "Jack and His Comrades, " which he includes in his _Celtic Fairy Tales_. Jacobs also gives an English version by way of America, "How Jack Sought His Fortune, " in his _English Fairy Tales_. The successful outcome for these distressed and deserving poor adventurers appeals as a fine stroke of poetic justice. THE TRAVELING MUSICIANS An honest farmer had once an ass that had been a faithful servant to hima great many years, but was now growing old and every day more and moreunfit for work. His master therefore was tired of keeping him and beganto think of putting an end to him; but the ass, who saw that somemischief was in the wind, took himself slyly off and began his journeytowards the great city, "for there, " thought he, "I may turn musician. " After he had traveled a little way, he spied a dog lying by theroad-side and panting as if he were very tired. "What makes you pant so, my friend?" said the ass. "Alas!" said the dog, "my master was going to knock me on the headbecause I am old and weak and can no longer make myself useful to him inhunting; so I ran away: but what can I do to earn my livelihood?" "Hark ye!" said the ass, "I am going to the great city to turn musician:suppose you go with me and try what you can do in the same way?" The dogsaid he was willing, and they jogged on together. Before they had gone far, they saw a cat sitting in the middle of theroad and making a most rueful face. "Pray, my good lady, " said the ass, "what's the matter with you? You look quite out of spirits!" "Ah, me!" said the cat, "how can one be in good spirits when one's lifeis in danger? Because I am beginning to grow old and had rather lie atmy ease by the fire than run about the house after the mice, my mistresslaid hold of me and was going to drown me; and though I have been luckyenough to get away from her, I do not know what I am to live upon. " "Oh!" said the ass, "by all means go with us to the great city. You area good night-singer and may make your fortune as a musician. " The catwas pleased with the thought and joined the party. Soon afterwards, as they were passing by a farmyard, they saw a cockperched upon a gate, screaming out with all his might and main. "Bravo!"said the ass; "upon my word you make a famous noise; pray what is allthis about?" "Why, " said the cock, "I was just now saying that we should have fineweather for our washing-day, and yet my mistress and the cook don'tthank me for my pains, but threaten to cut off my head tomorrow and makebroth of me for the guests that are coming on Sunday. " "Heaven forbid!" said the ass; "come with us, Master Chanticleer; itwill be better, at any rate, than staying here to have your head cutoff! Besides, who knows? If we take care to sing in tune, we may get upsome kind of a concert: so come along with us. " "With all my heart, " said the cock: so they all four went on jollilytogether. They could not, however, reach the great city the first day: so whennight came on they went into a wood to sleep. The ass and the dog laidthemselves down under a great tree, and the cat climbed up into thebranches; while the cock, thinking that the higher he sat the safer heshould be, flew up to the very top of the tree, and then, according tohis custom, before he went to sleep, looked out on all sides of him tosee that everything was well. In doing this, he saw afar off somethingbright and shining; and calling to his companions said, "There must be ahouse no great way off, for I see a light. " "If that be the case, " said the ass, "we had better change our quarters, for our lodging is not the best in the world!" "Besides, " added the dog, "I should not be the worse for a bone or two, or a bit of meat. " So they walked off together towards the spot whereChanticleer had seen the light; and as they drew near, it became largerand brighter, till they at last came close to a house in which a gang ofrobbers lived. The ass, being the tallest of the company, marched up to the window andpeeped in. "Well, Donkey, " said Chanticleer, "what do you see?" "What do I see?" replied the ass, "why I see a table spread with allkinds of good things, and robbers sitting round it making merry. " "That would be a noble lodging for us, " said the cock. "Yes, " said the ass, "if we could only get in": so they consultedtogether how they should contrive to get the robbers out; and at lastthey hit upon a plan. The ass placed himself upright on his hind-legs, with his fore-feet resting against the window; the dog got upon hisback; the cat scrambled up to the dog's shoulders, and the cock flew upand sat upon the cat's head. When all was ready, a signal was given, andthey began their music. The ass brayed, the dog barked, the cat mewed, and the cock screamed; and then they all broke through the window atonce and came tumbling into the room, amongst the broken glass, with amost hideous clatter! The robbers, who had been not a little frightenedby the opening concert, had now no doubt that some frightful hobgoblinhad broken in upon them, and scampered away as fast as they could. The coast once clear, our travelers soon sat down and dispatched whatthe robbers had left, with as much eagerness as if they had not expectedto eat again for a month. As soon as they had satisfied themselves, theyput out the lights and each once more sought out a resting-place to hisown liking. The donkey laid himself down upon a heap of straw in theyard; the dog stretched himself upon a mat behind the door; the catrolled herself up on the hearth before the warm ashes; and the cockperched upon a beam on the top of the house; and, as they were allrather tired with their journey, they soon fell asleep. But about midnight, when the robbers saw from afar that the lights wereout and that all seemed quiet, they began to think that they had been intoo great a hurry to run away; and one of them, who was bolder than therest, went to see what was going on. Finding everything still, hemarched into the kitchen and groped about till he found a match in orderto light a candle; and then, espying the glittering fiery eyes of thecat, he mistook them for live coals and held the match to them to lightit. But the cat, not understanding this joke, sprung at his face, andspit, and scratched at him. This frightened him dreadfully, and away heran to the back door; but there the dog jumped up and bit him in theleg; and as he was crossing over the yard the ass kicked him; and thecock, who had been awakened by the noise, crowed with all his might. Atthis the robber ran back as fast as he could to his comrades and toldthe captain "how a horrid witch had got into the house, and had spit athim and scratched his face with her long bony fingers; how a man with aknife in his hand had hidden himself behind the door and stabbed him inthe leg; how a black monster stood in the yard and struck him with aclub, and how the devil sat upon the top of the house and cried out, 'Throw the rascal up here!'" After this the robbers never dared to go back to the house; but themusicians were so pleased with their quarters that they took up theirabode there; and there they are, I dare say, at this very day. 174 The Taylor translation of Grimm is used for "The Blue Light. " This tale contains several of the elements most popular in children's stories. There is merit in distress, an old witch, the magic blue light, the little black dwarf, and the exceeding great reward at the end. From this very story or some variant of it Hans Christian Andersen must have drawn the inspiration for "The Tinder Box" (No. 196). THE BLUE LIGHT A soldier had served a king his master many years, till at last he wasturned off without pay or reward. How he should get his living he didnot know; so he set out and journeyed homeward all day in a verydowncast mood, until in the evening he came to the edge of a deep wood. The road leading that way, he pushed forward; but before he had gonefar, he saw a light glimmering through the trees, towards which he benthis weary steps; and soon he came to a hut where no one lived but an oldwitch. The poor fellow begged for a night's lodging and something to eatand drink; but she would listen to nothing. However, he was not easilygot rid of; and at last she said, "I think I will take pity on you thisonce; but if I do, you must dig over all my garden for me in themorning. " The soldier agreed very willingly to anything she asked, andhe became her guest. The next day he kept his word and dug the garden very neatly. The joblasted all day; and in the evening, when his mistress would have senthim away, he said, "I am so tired with my work that I must beg you tolet me stay over the night. " The old lady vowed at first she would not do any such thing; but after agreat deal of talk he carried his point, agreeing to chop up a wholecart-load of wood for her the next day. This task too was duly ended; but not till towards night, and then hefound himself so tired that he begged a third night's rest; and this toowas given, but only on his pledging his word that he next day wouldfetch the witch the blue light that burnt at the bottom of the well. When morning came she led him to the well's mouth, tied him to a longrope, and let him down. At the bottom sure enough he found the bluelight as the witch had said, and at once made the signal for her to drawhim up again. But when she had pulled him up so near to the top that shecould reach him with her hands, she said, "Give me the light: I willtake care of it, "--meaning to play him a trick by taking it for herselfand letting him fall again to the bottom of the well. But the soldier saw through her wicked thoughts, and said, "No, I shallnot give you the light till I find myself safe and sound out of thewell. " At this she became very angry and dashed him, with the light she hadlonged for many a year, down to the bottom. And there lay the poorsoldier for a while in despair, on the damp mud below, and feared thathis end was nigh. But his pipe happened to be in his pocket still halffull, and he thought to himself, "I may as well make an end of smokingyou out; it is the last pleasure I shall have in this world. " So he litit at the blue light and began to smoke. Up rose a cloud of smoke, and on a sudden a little black dwarf was seenmaking his way through the midst of it. "What do you want with me, soldier?" said he. "I have no business with you, " answered he. But the dwarf said, "I am bound to serve you in every thing, as lord andmaster of the blue light. " "Then first of all, be so good as to help me out of this well. " Nosooner said than done: the dwarf took him by the hand and drew him up, and the blue light of course with him. "Now do me another piece ofkindness, " said the soldier: "pray let that old lady take my place inthe well. " When the dwarf had done this, and lodged the witch safely at the bottom, they began to ransack her treasures; and the soldier made bold to carryoff as much of her gold and silver as he well could. Then the dwarfsaid, "If you should chance at any time to want me, you have nothing todo but to light your pipe at the blue light, and I will soon be withyou. " The soldier was not a little pleased at his good luck, and went to thebest inn in the first town he came to and ordered some fine clothes tobe made and a handsome room to be got ready for him. When all was ready, he called his little man to him and said, "The king sent me awaypenniless and left me to hunger and want. I have a mind to show him thatit is my turn to be master now; so bring me his daughter here thisevening, that she may wait upon me and do what I bid her. " "That is rather a dangerous task, " said the dwarf. But away he went, took the princess out of her bed, fast asleep as she was, and broughther to the soldier. Very early in the morning he carried her back; and as soon as she sawher father, she said, "I had a strange dream last night. I thought I wascarried away through the air to a soldier's house, and there I waitedupon him as his servant. " Then the king wondered greatly at such astory; but told her to make a hole in her pocket and fill it with peas, so that if it were really as she said, and the whole was not a dream, the peas might fall out in the streets as she passed through, and leavea clue to tell whither she had been taken. She did so; but the dwarf hadheard the king's plot; and when evening came, and the soldier said hemust bring him the princess again, he strewed peas over several of thestreets, so that the few that fell from her pocket were not known fromthe others; and the people amused themselves all the next day picking uppeas and wondering where so many came from. When the princess told her father what had happened to her the secondtime, he said, "Take one of your shoes with you and hide it in the roomyou are taken to. " The dwarf heard this also; and when the soldier told him to bring theking's daughter again, he said, "I cannot save you this time; it will bean unlucky thing for you if you are found out--as I think you will. " Butthe soldier would have his own way. "Then you must take care and makethe best of your way out of the city gate very early in the morning, "said the dwarf. The princess kept one shoe on as her father bid her, and hid it in thesoldier's room; and when she got back to her father, he ordered it to besought for all over the town; and at last it was found where she had hidit. The soldier had run away, it is true; but he had been too slow andwas soon caught and thrown into a strong prison and loaded with chains. What was worse, in the hurry of his flight, he had left behind him hisgreat treasure, the blue light, and all his gold, and had nothing leftin his pocket but one poor ducat. As he was standing very sorrowful at the prison grating, he saw one ofhis comrades, and calling out to him said, "If you will bring me alittle bundle I left in the inn, I will give you a ducat. " His comrade thought this very good pay for such a job; so he went awayand soon came back bringing the blue light and the gold. Then theprisoner soon lit his pipe. Up rose the smoke, and with it came his oldfriend, the little dwarf. "Do not fear, master, " said he: "keep up yourheart at your trial and leave everything to take its course;--only mindto take the blue light with you. " The trial soon came on; the matter was sifted to the bottom; theprisoner found guilty, and his doom passed:--he was ordered to be hangedforthwith on the gallows-tree. But as he was led out, he said he had one favor to beg of the king. "What is it?" said his majesty. "That you will deign to let me smoke one pipe on the road. " "Two, if you like, " said the king. Then he lit his pipe at the blue light, and the black dwarf was beforehim in a moment. "Be so good as to kill, slay, or put to flight allthese people, " said the soldier: "and as for the king, you may cut himinto three pieces. " Then the dwarf began to lay about him, and soon got rid of the crowdaround: but the king begged hard for mercy; and, to save his life, agreed to let the soldier have the princess for his wife and to leavethe kingdom to him when he died. 175 The following tale is from Taylor's translation of Grimm. The cheerful industry and the kindly gratitude of the shoemaker and his wife, together with the gayety of the little elves, make the story altogether charming. No doubt its popularity was helped by Cruikshank's famous accompanying etching, showing the scene at the close, in which the two elves "are drawn with a point at once so precise and vivacious, so full of keen fun and inimitably happy invention, that I have not found their equal in comic etching anywhere. . . . The picturesque details of the room are etched with the same felicitous intelligence; but the marvel of the work is in the expression of the strange little faces, and the energy of the comical wee limbs. " (Hamerton, _Etching and Etchers_. ) THE ELVES AND THE SHOEMAKER There was once a shoemaker who worked very hard and was very honest; butstill he could not earn enough to live upon, and at last all he had inthe world was gone, except just leather enough to make one pair ofshoes. Then he cut them all ready to make up the next day, meaning toget up early in the morning to work. His conscience was clear and hisheart light amidst all his troubles; so he went peaceably to bed, leftall his cares to heaven, and fell asleep. In the morning, after he hadsaid his prayers, he set himself down to his work, but to his greatwonder, there stood the shoes, all ready made, upon the table. The goodman knew not what to say or think of this strange event. He looked atthe workmanship: there was not one false stitch in the whole job, andall was so neat and true that it was a complete masterpiece. That same day a customer came in, and the shoes pleased him so well thathe willingly paid a price higher than usual for them; and the poorshoemaker with the money bought leather enough to make two pairs more. In the evening he cut out the work and went to bed early that he mightget up and begin betimes next day: but he was saved all the trouble, forwhen he got up in the morning the work was finished ready to his hand. Presently in came buyers, who paid him handsomely for his goods, so thathe bought leather enough for four pairs more. He cut out the work againover night, and found it finished in the morning as before; and so itwent on for some time: what was got ready in the evening was always doneby daybreak, and the good man soon became thriving and prosperous again. One evening about Christmas time, as he and his wife were sitting overthe fire chatting together, he said to her, "I should like to sit up andwatch to-night, that we may see who it is that comes and does my workfor me. " The wife liked the thought; so they left a light burning andhid themselves in the corner of the room behind a curtain that was hungup there, and watched what should happen. As soon as it was midnight, there came two little naked dwarfs; and theysat themselves upon the shoemaker's bench, took up all the work that wascut out, and began to ply with their little fingers, stitching andrapping and tapping away at such a rate that the shoemaker was allamazement and could not take his eyes off for a moment. And on they wenttill the job was quite finished, and the shoes stood ready for use uponthe table. This was long before daybreak; and then they bustled away asquick as lightning. The next day the wife said to the shoemaker, "These little wights havemade us rich, and we ought to be thankful to them and do them a goodoffice in return. I am quite vexed to see them run about as they do;they have nothing upon their backs to keep off the cold. I'll tell youwhat, I will make each of them a shirt, and a coat and waistcoat, and apair of pantaloons into the bargain; do you make each of them a littlepair of shoes. " The thought pleased the good shoemaker very much; and one evening, whenall the things were ready, they laid them on the table instead of thework that they used to cut out, and then went and hid themselves towatch what the little elves would do. About midnight they came in andwere going to sit down to their work as usual; but when they saw theclothes lying for them, they laughed and were greatly delighted. Thenthey dressed themselves in the twinkling of an eye, and danced andcapered and sprang about as merry as could be, till at last they dancedout at the door and over the green; and the shoemaker saw them no more;but everything went well with him from that time forward, as long as helived. 176 In a note regarding "The Fisherman and His Wife, " Taylor calls attention to the interesting fact that this tale became a great favorite after the battle of Waterloo "during the fervor of popular feeling on the downfall of the late Emperor of France. " The catastrophe attendant upon Napoleon's ambitious efforts seemed to the popular mind to be paralleled by the penalty following the final wish of the wife "to be like unto God. " But observe that Taylor, unlike more recent translators, felt under the necessity of softening "the boldness of the lady's ambition. " The versions of the verse charm used in summoning the fish differ strikingly in the various translations. That of Taylor's first edition, used here, seems to fit the story better than any other, though tellers of the story may, properly enough, not agree. Taylor's revised version of 1837 reads: "O man of the sea! Hearken to me! My wife Ilsabill Will have her own will, And hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!" Mrs. Hunt's version runs: "Flounder, flounder in the sea, Come, I pray thee, come to me; For my wife, good Ilsabil, Wills not as I'd have her will. " The moral of the story is plain for those who need it: Greed overreaches itself. Who grasps too much loses all. Don't ride a free horse to death. THE FISHERMAN AND HIS WIFE There was once a fisherman who lived with his wife in a ditch, close bythe sea-side. The fisherman used to go out all day long a-fishing; andone day, as he sat on the shore with his rod, looking at the shiningwater and watching his line, all on a sudden his float was dragged awaydeep under the sea: and in drawing it up he pulled a great fish out ofthe water. The fish said to him, "Pray let me live: I am not a realfish; I am an enchanted prince. Put me in the water again, and let mego. " "Oh!" said the man, "you need not make so many words about the matter. Iwish to have nothing to do with a fish that can talk; so swim away assoon as you please. " Then he put him back into the water, and the fishdarted straight down to the bottom and left a long streak of bloodbehind him. When the fisherman went home to his wife in the ditch, he told her howhe had caught a great fish, and how it had told him it was an enchantedprince, and that on hearing it speak he had let it go again. "Did you not ask it for anything?" said the wife. "No, " said the man, "what should I ask for?" "Ah!" said the wife, "we live very wretchedly here in this nastystinking ditch. Do go back, and tell the fish we want a little cottage. " The fisherman did not much like the business; however he went to thesea, and when he came there the water looked all yellow and green. Andhe stood at the water's edge, and said, "O man of the sea! Come listen to me, For Alice my wife, The plague of my life, Hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!" Then the fish came swimming to him, and said, "Well, what does shewant?" "Ah!" answered the fisherman, "my wife says that when I had caught you, I ought to have asked you for something before I let you go again. Shedoes not like living any longer in the ditch, and wants a littlecottage. " "Go home, then, " said the fish. "She is in the cottage already. " So the man went home and saw his wife standing at the door of a cottage. "Come in, come in, " said she; "is not this much better than the ditch?"And there was a parlor, and a bed-chamber, and a kitchen; and behind thecottage there was a little garden with all sorts of flowers and fruits, and a court-yard full of ducks and chickens. "Ah!" said the fisherman, "how happily we shall live!" "We will try to do so at least, " said his wife. Everything went right for a week or two, and then Dame Alice said, "Husband, there is not room enough in this cottage; the court-yard andgarden are a great deal too small. I should like to have a large stonecastle to live in; so go to the fish again, and tell him to give us acastle. " "Wife, " said the fisherman, "I don't like to go to him again, forperhaps he will be angry. We ought to be content with the cottage. " "Nonsense!" said the wife; "he will do it very willingly. Go along, andtry. " The fisherman went; but his heart was very heavy: and when he came tothe sea, it looked blue and gloomy, though it was quite calm, and hewent close to it and said, "O man of the sea! Come listen to me, For Alice my wife, The plague of my life, Hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!" "Well, what does she want now?" said the fish. "Ah!" said the man very sorrowfully, "my wife wants to live in a stonecastle. " "Go home then, " said the fish. "She is standing at the door of italready. " So away went the fisherman and found his wife standing beforea great castle. "See, " said she, "is not this grand?" With that they went into thecastle together and found a great many servants there and the rooms allrichly furnished and full of golden chairs and tables; and behind thecastle was a garden, and a wood half a mile long, full of sheep, andgoats, and hares, and deer; and in the court-yard were stables andcow-houses. "Well, " said the man, "now will we live contented and happy in thisbeautiful castle for the rest of our lives. " "Perhaps we may, " said the wife; "but let us consider and sleep upon itbefore we make up our minds": so they went to bed. The next morning when Dame Alice awoke, it was broad daylight, and shejogged the fisherman with her elbow and said, "Get up, husband, andbestir yourself, for we must be king of all the land. " "Wife, wife, " said the man, "why should we wish to be king? I will notbe king. " "Then I will, " said Alice. "But, wife, " answered the fisherman, "how can you be king? The fishcannot make you a king. " "Husband, " said she, "say no more about it, but go and try. I will beking!" So the man went away, quite sorrowful to think that his wife should wantto be king. The sea looked a dark grey color, and was covered with foamas he cried out, "O man of the sea! Come listen to me, For Alice my wife, The plague of my life, Hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!" "Well, what would she have now?" said the fish. "Alas!" said the man, "my wife wants to be king. " "Go home, " said the fish. "She is king already. " Then the fisherman went home; and as he came close to the palace, he sawa troop of soldiers and heard the sound of drums and trumpets; and whenhe entered in, he saw his wife sitting on a high throne of gold anddiamonds, with a golden crown upon her head; and on each side of herstood six beautiful maidens, each a head taller than the other. "Well, wife, " said the fisherman, "are you king?" "Yes, " said she, "I am king. " And when he had looked at her for a long time, he said, "Ah, wife! whata fine thing it is to be king! Now we shall never have anything more towish for. " "I don't know how that may be, " said she; "never is a long time. I amking, 'tis true, but I begin to be tired of it, and I think I shouldlike to be emperor. " "Alas, wife! why should you wish to be emperor?" said the fisherman. "Husband, " said she, "go to the fish; I say I will be emperor. " "Ah, wife!" replied the fisherman, "the fish cannot make an emperor, andI should not like to ask for such a thing. " "I am king, " said Alice, "and you are my slave, so go directly!" So the fisherman was obliged to go; and he muttered as he went along, "This will come to no good. It is too much to ask. The fish will betired at last, and then we shall repent of what we have done. " He soonarrived at the sea, and the water was quite black and muddy, and amighty whirlwind blew over it; but he went to the shore, and said, "O man of the sea! Come listen to me, For Alice my wife, The plague of my life, Hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!" "What would she have now!" said the fish. "Ah!" said the fisherman, "she wants to be emperor. " "Go home, " said the fish. "She is emperor already. " So he went home again; and as he came near he saw his wife sitting on avery lofty throne made of solid gold, with a great crown on her headfull two yards high, and on each side of her stood her guards andattendants in a row, each one smaller than the other, from the tallestgiant down to a little dwarf no bigger than my finger. And before herstood princes, and dukes, and earls: and the fisherman went up to herand said, "Wife, are you emperor?" "Yes, " said she, "I am emperor. " "Ah!" said the man as he gazed upon her, "what a fine thing it is to beemperor!" "Husband, " said she, "why should we stay at being emperor; I will bepope next. " "O wife, wife!" said he, "how can you be pope? There is but one pope ata time in Christendom. " "Husband, " said she, "I will be pope this very day. " "But, " replied the husband, "the fish cannot make you pope. " "What nonsense!" said she, "if he can make an emperor, he can make apope. Go and try him. " So the fisherman went. But when he came to the shore the wind wasraging, and the sea was tossed up and down like boiling water, and theships were in the greatest distress and danced upon the waves mostfearfully. In the middle of the sky there was a little blue, but towardthe south it was all red as if a dreadful storm were rising. At this thefisherman was terribly frightened, and trembled, so that his kneesknocked together: but he went to the shore and said, "O man of the sea! Come listen to me, For Alice my wife, The plague of my life, Hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!" "What does she want now?" said the fish. "Ah!" said the fisherman, "my wife wants to be pope. " "Go home, " said the fish. "She is pope already. " Then the fisherman went home and found his wife sitting on a throne thatwas two miles high; and she had three great crowns on her head, andaround stood all the pomp and power of the Church; and on each side weretwo rows of burning lights of all sizes, the greatest as large as thehighest and biggest tower in the world, and the least no larger than asmall rushlight. "Wife, " said the fisherman as he looked at all thisgrandeur, "are you pope?" "Yes, " said she, "I am pope. " "Well, wife, " replied he, "it is a grand thing to be pope; and now youmust be content, for you can be nothing greater. " "I will consider of that, " said the wife. Then they went to bed: butDame Alice could not sleep all night for thinking what she should benext. At last morning came, and the sun rose. "Ha!" thought she as shelooked at it through the window, "cannot I prevent the sun rising?" Atthis she was very angry, and she wakened her husband and said, "Husband, go to the fish and tell him I want to be lord of the sun and moon. " Thefisherman was half asleep, but the thought frightened him so much thathe started and fell out of bed. "Alas, wife!" said he, "cannot you becontent to be pope?" "No, " said she, "I am very uneasy, and cannot bear to see the sun andmoon rise without my leave. Go to the fish directly. " Then the man went trembling for fear; and as he was going down to theshore a dreadful storm arose, so that the trees and the rocks shook; andthe heavens became black, and the lightning played, and the thunderrolled; and you might have seen in the sea great black waves likemountains with a white crown of foam upon them; and the fisherman said, "O man of the sea! Come listen to me, For Alice my wife, The plague of my life, Hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!" "What does she want now?" said the fish. "Ah!" said he, "she wants to be lord of the sun and moon. " "Go home, "said the fish, "to your ditch again!" And there they live to this veryday. 177 The Grimm version of "The Sleeping Beauty" is, by all odds, the finest one. Its perfect economy in the use of story materials has always been admired. Perrault's version drags in an unnecessary ogre and spoils a good story by not knowing when to stop. The Grimm title is "Dornröschen, " and the more literal translation, "Brier Rose, " is the one generally used as the English title, rather than the one given by Taylor, whose translation follows. Tennyson has a very beautiful poetic rendering of this story in his "Day-Dream. " ROSE-BUD Once upon a time there lived a king and queen who had no children; andthis they lamented very much. But one day as the queen was walking bythe side of the river, a little fish lifted its head out of the waterand said, "Your wish shall be fulfilled, and you shall soon have adaughter. " What the little fish had foretold soon came to pass; and the queen had alittle girl that was so very beautiful that the king could not ceaselooking on it for joy, and determined to hold a great feast. So heinvited not only his relations, friends, and neighbors, but also all thefairies, that they might be kind and good to his little daughter. Now there were thirteen fairies in his kingdom, and he had only twelvegolden dishes for them to eat out of, so he was obliged to leave one ofthe fairies without an invitation. The rest came, and after the feastwas over they gave all their best gifts to the little princess: one gaveher virtue, another beauty, another riches, and so on till she had allthat was excellent in the world. When eleven had done blessing her, thethirteenth, who had not been invited and was very angry on that account, came in and determined to take her revenge. So she cried out, "Theking's daughter shall in her fifteenth year be wounded by a spindle, andfall down dead. " Then the twelfth, who had not yet given her gift, came forward and saidthat the bad wish must be fulfilled, but that she could soften it, andthat the king's daughter should not die, but fall asleep for a hundredyears. But the king hoped to save his dear child from the threatened evil andordered that all the spindles in the kingdom should be bought up anddestroyed. All the fairies' gifts were in the meantime fulfilled, forthe princess was so beautiful, and well-behaved, and amiable, and wisethat every one who knew her loved her. Now it happened that on the veryday she was fifteen years old the king and queen were not at home, andshe was left alone in the palace. So she roved about by herself andlooked at all the rooms and chambers till at last she came to an oldtower, to which there was a narrow staircase ending with a little door. In the door there was a golden key, and when she turned it the doorsprang open, and there sat an old lady spinning away very busily. "Why, how now, good mother, " said the princess, "what are you doing there?" "Spinning, " said the old lady, and nodded her head. "How prettily that little thing turns round!" said the princess, andtook the spindle and began to spin. But scarcely had she touched itbefore the prophecy was fulfilled, and she fell down lifeless on theground. However, she was not dead, but had only fallen into a deep sleep; andthe king and the queen, who just then came home, and all their court, fell asleep too; and the horses slept in the stables, and the dogs inthe court, the pigeons on the house-top and the flies on the walls. Eventhe fire on the hearth left off blazing and went to sleep; and the meatthat was roasting stood still; and the cook, who was at that momentpulling the kitchen-boy by the hair to give him a box on the ear forsomething he had done amiss, let him go, and both fell asleep; and soeverything stood still, and slept soundly. A large hedge of thorns soon grew round the palace, and every year itbecame higher and thicker till at last the whole palace was surroundedand hid, so that not even the roof or the chimneys could be seen. Butthere went a report through all the land of the beautiful sleepingRose-Bud (for so was the king's daughter called); so that from time totime several kings' sons came and tried to break through the thicketinto the palace. This they could never do, for the thorns and busheslaid hold of them as it were with hands, and there they stuck fast anddied miserably. After many many years there came a king's son into that land, and an oldman told him the story of the thicket of thorns, and how a beautifulpalace stood behind it, in which was a wondrous princess, calledRose-Bud, asleep with all her court. He told, too, how he had heard fromhis grandfather that many many princes had come, and had tried to breakthrough the thicket, but had stuck fast and died. Then the young princesaid, "All this shall not frighten me. I will go and see Rose-Bud. " Theold man tried to dissuade him, but he persisted in going. Now that very day were the hundred years completed; and as the princecame to the thicket, he saw nothing but beautiful flowering shrubs, through which he passed with ease, and they closed after him as firm asever. Then he came at last to the palace, and there in the court lay thedogs asleep, and the horses in the stables, and on the roof sat thepigeons fast asleep with their heads under their wings; and when he cameinto the palace, the flies slept on the walls, and the cook in thekitchen was still holding up her hand as if she would beat the boy, andthe maid sat with a black fowl in her hand ready to be plucked. Then he went on still further, and all was so still that he could hearevery breath he drew; till at last he came to the old tower and openedthe door of the little room in which Rose-Bud was, and there she layfast asleep, and looked so beautiful that he could not take his eyesoff, and he stooped down and gave her a kiss. But the moment he kissedher she opened her eyes and awoke and smiled upon him. Then they wentout together, and presently the king and queen also awoke, and all thecourt, and they gazed on one another with great wonder. And the horsesgot up and shook themselves, and the dogs jumped about and barked; thepigeons took their heads from under their wings and looked about andflew into the fields; the flies on the walls buzzed away; the fire inthe kitchen blazed up and cooked the dinner, and the roast meat turnedround again; the cook gave the boy the box on his ear so that he criedout, and the maid went on plucking the fowl. And then was the wedding ofthe prince and Rose-Bud celebrated, and they lived happily together alltheir lives long. 178 The story of "Rumpelstiltskin" is taken from Margaret Hunt's translation of Grimm. It is the same story as "Tom Tit Tot" (No. 160), and is given in order that the teacher may compare the two. Grimm's is the most familiar of the many versions of this tale and is probably the best for use with children, although the "little man" lacks some of the fascinating power of "that" with its twirling tail. RUMPELSTILTSKIN Once there was a miller who was poor, but who had a beautiful daughter. Now it happened that he had to go and speak to the King, and in order tomake himself appear important he said to him, "I have a daughter who canspin straw into gold. " The King said to the miller, "That is an art which pleases me well. Ifyour daughter is as clever as you say, bring her tomorrow to my palace, and I will try what she can do. " And when the girl was brought to him he took her into a room which wasquite full of straw, gave her a spinning-wheel and a reel, and said, "Now set to work, and if by tomorrow morning early you have not spunthis straw into gold during the night, you must die. " Thereupon hehimself locked up the room, and left her in it alone. So there sat thepoor miller's daughter, and for her life could not tell what to do. Shehad no idea how straw could be spun into gold, and she grew more andmore miserable, until at last she began to weep. But all at once the door opened, and in came a little man, and said, "Good evening, Mistress Miller; why are you crying so?" "Alas!" answered the girl, "I have to spin straw into gold, and I do notknow how to do it. " "What will you give me, " said the manikin, "if I do it for you?" "My necklace, " said the girl. The little man took the necklace, seatedhimself in front of the wheel, and "whir, whir, whir, " three turns, andthe reel was full; then he put another on, and "whir, whir, whir, " threetimes round, and the second was full, too. And so it went on until themorning, when all the straw was spun, and all the reels were full ofgold. By daybreak the King was already there, and when he saw the goldhe was astonished and delighted, but his heart became only more greedy. He had the miller's daughter taken into another room full of straw, which was much larger, and commanded her to spin that also in one nightif she valued her life. The girl knew not how to help herself, and wascrying, when the door again opened, and the little man appeared, andsaid, "What will you give me if I spin the straw into gold for you?" "The ring on my finger, " answered the girl. The little man took the ring, again began to turn the wheel, and bymorning had spun all the straw into glittering gold. The King rejoiced beyond measure at the sight, but still he had notgold enough; and he had the miller's daughter taken into a still largerroom full of straw, and said, "You must spin this, too, in the course ofthis night; but if you succeed, you shall be my wife. " "Even if she be amiller's daughter, " thought he, "I could not find a richer wife in thewhole world. " When the girl was alone the manikin came again for the third time, andsaid, "What will you give me if I spin the straw for you this timealso?" "I have nothing left that I could give, " answered the girl. "Then promise me, if you should become Queen, your first child. " "Who knows whether that will ever happen?" thought the miller'sdaughter; and, not knowing how else to help herself in this strait, shepromised the manikin what he wanted, and for that he once more spun thestraw into gold. And when the King came in the morning, and found all as he had wished, he took her in marriage, and the pretty miller's daughter became aQueen. A year after, she had a beautiful child, and she never gave a thought tothe manikin. But suddenly he came into her room, and said, "Now give mewhat you promised. " The Queen was horror-struck, and offered the manikin all the riches ofthe kingdom if he would leave her the child. But the manikin said, "No, something that is living is dearer to me than all the treasures in theworld. " Then the Queen began to weep and cry, so that the manikin pitied her. "Iwill give you three days' time, " said he; "if by that time you find outmy name, then shall you keep your child. " So the Queen thought the whole night of all the names that she had everheard, and she sent a messenger over the country to inquire, far andwide, for any other names that there might be. When the manikin came thenext day, she began with Caspar, Melchior, Balthazar, and said all thenames she knew, one after another; but to every one the little man said, "That is not my name. " On the second day she had inquiries made in theneighborhood as to the names of the people there, and she repeated tothe manikin the most uncommon and curious. "Perhaps your name isShortribs, or Sheepshanks, or Laceleg?" but he always answered, "That isnot my name. " On the third day the messenger came back again, and said, "I have notbeen able to find a single new name, but as I came to a high mountain atthe end of the forest, where the fox and the hare bid each othergood-night, there I saw a little house, and before the house a fire wasburning, and round about the fire quite a ridiculous little man wasjumping; he hopped upon one leg, and shouted: "To-day I bake, to-morrow brew, The next I'll have the young Queen's child. Ha! glad am I that no one knew That Rumpelstiltskin I am styled. '" You may think how glad the Queen was when she heard the name! And whensoon afterwards the little man came in, and asked, "Now, Mistress Queen, what is my name?" At first she said, "Is your name Conrad?" "No. " "Is your name Harry?" "No. " "Perhaps your name is Rumpelstiltskin?" "The devil has told you that! the devil has told you that!" cried thelittle man, and in his anger he plunged his right foot so deep into theearth that his whole leg went in; and then in rage he pulled at his leftleg so hard with both hands that he tore himself in two. 179 Margaret Hunt's translation of Grimm's "Snow-White and Rose-Red" follows. It has long been recognized as one of the most beautiful and appealing of folk tales. The scenic effects, the domestic life with its maternal and filial affection, the kindness to animals and helpfulness to each other and to those in distress, the adventures with dwarf and bear, the magic enchantment of goodness through the power of evil, and the happy conclusion following the removal of this enchantment--all these are blended into a perfect union that never fails to delight the listener of any age. SNOW-WHITE AND ROSE-RED There was once a poor widow who lived in a lonely cottage. In front ofthe cottage was a garden wherein stood two rose-trees, one of which borewhite and the other red roses. She had two children who were like thetwo rose-trees, and one was called Snow-white, and the other Rose-red. They were as good and happy, as busy and cheerful as ever two childrenin the world were, only Snow-white was more quiet and gentle thanRose-red. Rose-red liked better to run about in the meadows and fieldsseeking flowers and catching butterflies; but Snow-white sat at homewith her mother, and helped her with her housework, or read to her whenthere was nothing to do. The two children were so fond of each other that they always held eachother by the hand when they went out together, and when Snow-white said, "We will not leave each other, " Rose-red answered, "Never so long as welive, " and their mother would add, "What one has she must share with theother. " They often ran about the forest alone and gathered red berries, and nobeasts did them any harm, but came close to them trustfully. The littlehare would eat a cabbage-leaf out of their hands, the roe grazed bytheir side, the stag leaped merrily by them, and the birds sat stillupon the boughs and sang whatever they knew. No mishap overtook them; if they had stayed too late in the forest, andnight came on, they laid themselves down near each other upon the mossand slept until morning came, and their mother knew this and had nodistress on their account. Once when they had spent the night in the wood and the dawn had rousedthem, they saw a beautiful child in a shining white dress sitting neartheir bed. He got up and looked quite kindly at them, but said nothingand went away into the forest. And when they looked round they foundthat they had been sleeping quite close to a precipice, and wouldcertainly have fallen into it in the darkness if they had gone only afew paces farther. And their mother told them that it must have been theangel who watches over good children. Snow-white and Rose-red kept their mother's little cottage so neat thatit was a pleasure to look inside it. In the summer Rose-red took care ofthe house, and every morning laid a wreath of flowers by her mother'sbed before she awoke, in which was a rose from each tree. In the winterSnow-white lit the fire and hung the kettle on the crane. The kettle wasof copper and shone like gold, so brightly was it polished. In theevening, when the snowflakes fell, the mother said, "Go, Snow-white, andbolt the door, " and then they sat round the hearth, and the mother tookher spectacles and read aloud out of a large book, and the two girlslistened as they sat and spun. And close by them lay a lamb upon thefloor, and behind them upon a perch sat a white dove with its headhidden beneath its wings. One evening, as they were thus sitting comfortably together, some oneknocked at the door as if he wished to be let in. The mother said, "Quick, Rose-red, open the door, it must be a traveler who is seekingshelter. " Rose-red went and pushed back the bolt, thinking that it was apoor man, but it was not; it was a bear that stretched his broad, blackhead within the door. Rose-red screamed and sprang back, the lamb bleated, the dove fluttered, and Snow-white hid herself behind her mother's bed. But the bear beganto speak and said, "Do not be afraid, I will do you no harm! I amhalf-frozen, and only want to warm myself a little beside you. " "Poor bear, " said the mother, "lie down by the fire, only take care thatyou do not burn your coat. " Then she cried, "Snow-white, Rose-red, comeout; the bear will do you no harm; he means well. " So they both cameout, and by-and-by the lamb and dove came nearer, and were not afraid ofhim. The bear said, "Here, children, knock the snow out of my coat a little";so they brought the broom and swept the bear's hide clean; and hestretched himself by the fire and growled contentedly and comfortably. It was not long before they grew quite at home and played tricks withtheir clumsy guest. They tugged his hair with their hands, put theirfeet upon his back and rolled him about, or they took a hazel-switch andbeat him, and when he growled they laughed. But the bear took it all ingood part, only when they were too rough he called out, "Leave me alive, children-- "Snowy-white, Rosy-red, Will you beat your lover dead?" When it was bed-time, and the others went to bed, the mother said to thebear, "You can lie there by the hearth, and then you will be safe fromthe cold and the bad weather. " As soon as day dawned the two childrenlet him out, and he trotted across the snow into the forest. Henceforth the bear came every evening at the same time, laid himselfdown by the hearth, and let the children amuse themselves with him asmuch as they liked; and they got so used to him that the doors werenever fastened until their black friend had arrived. When spring had come and all outside was green, the bear said onemorning to Snow-white, "Now I must go away, and cannot come back for thewhole summer. " "Where are you going, then, dear bear?" asked Snow-white. "I must go into the forest and guard my treasures from the wickeddwarfs. In the winter, when the earth is frozen hard, they are obligedto stay below and cannot work their way through; but now, when the sunhas thawed and warmed the earth, they break through it, and come out topry and steal; and what once gets into their hands, and in their caves, does not easily see daylight again. " Snow-white was quite sorry for his going away, and as she unbolted thedoor for him, and the bear was hurrying out, he caught against the boltand a piece of his hairy coat was torn off, and it seemed to Snow-whiteas if she had seen gold shining through it, but she was not sure aboutit. The bear ran away quickly, and was soon out of sight behind thetrees. A short time afterwards the mother sent her children into the forest toget fire-wood. There they found a big tree which lay felled on theground, and close by the trunk something was jumping backwards andforwards in the grass, but they could not make out what it was. Whenthey came nearer they saw a dwarf with an old withered face and asnow-white beard a yard long. The end of the beard was caught in acrevice of the tree, and the little fellow was jumping backwards andforwards like a dog tied to a rope, and did not know what to do. He glared at the girls with his fiery red eyes and cried, "Why do youstand there? Can you not come here and help me?" "What are you about there, little man?" asked Rose-red. "You stupid, prying goose!" answered the dwarf; "I was going to splitthe tree to get a little wood for cooking. The little bit of food thatone of us wants gets burnt up directly with thick logs; we do notswallow so much as you coarse, greedy folk. I had just driven the wedgesafely in, and everything was going as I wished; but the wretched woodwas too smooth and suddenly sprang asunder, and the tree closed soquickly that I could not pull out my beautiful white beard; so now it istight in and I cannot get away, and you silly, sleek, milk-faced thingslaugh! Ugh! how odious you are!" The children tried very hard, but they could not pull the beard out, itwas caught too fast. "I will run and fetch some one, " said Rose-red. "You senseless goose!" snarled the dwarf; "why should you fetch someone? You are already two too many for me; can you not think of somethingbetter?" "Don't be impatient, " said Snow-white, "I will help you, " and she pulledher scissors out of her pocket, and cut off the end of the beard. As soon as the dwarf felt himself free he laid hold of a bag which layamongst the roots of the tree, and which was full of gold, and lifted itup, grumbling to himself, "Uncouth people, to cut off a piece of my finebeard. Bad luck to you!" and then he swung the bag upon his back, andwent off without even once looking at the children. Some time after that Snow-white and Rose-red went to catch a dish offish. As they came near the brook they saw something like a largegrasshopper jumping towards the water, as if it were going to leap in. They ran to it and found it was the dwarf. "Where are you going?" saidRose-red; "you surely don't want to go into the water?" "I am not such a fool!" cried the dwarf; "don't you see that theaccursed fish wants to pull me in?" The little man had been sitting there fishing, and unluckily the windhad twisted his beard with the fishing line; just then a big fish bit, and the feeble creature had not strength to pull it out; the fish keptthe upper hand and pulled the dwarf towards him. He held on to all thereeds and rushes, but it was of little good, he was forced to follow themovements of the fish, and was in urgent danger of being dragged intothe water. The girls came just in time; they held him fast and tried to free hisbeard from the line, but all in vain, beard and line were entangled fasttogether. Nothing was left but to bring out the scissors and cut thebeard, whereby a small part of it was lost. When the dwarf saw that hescreamed out, "Is that civil, you toadstool, to disfigure one's face?Was it not enough to clip off the end of my beard? Now you have cut offthe best part of it. I cannot let myself be seen by my people. I wishyou had been made to run the soles off your shoes!" Then he took out asack of pearls which lay in the rushes, and without saying a word morehe dragged it away and disappeared behind a stone. It happened that soon afterwards the mother sent the two children to thetown to buy needles and thread, and laces and ribbons. The road led themacross a heath upon which huge pieces of rock lay strewn here and there. Now they noticed a large bird hovering in the air, flying slowly roundand round above them; it sank lower and lower, and at last settled neara rock not far off. Directly afterwards they heard a loud, piteous cry. They ran up and saw with horror that the eagle had seized their oldacquaintance the dwarf, and was going to carry him off. The children, full of pity, at once took tight hold of the little man, and pulled against the eagle so long that at last he let his booty go. As soon as the dwarf had recovered from his first fright he cried withhis shrill voice, "Could you not have done it more carefully? Youdragged at my brown coat so that it is all torn and full of holes, youhelpless, clumsy creatures!" Then he took up a sack full of preciousstones, and slipped away again under the rock into his hole. The girls, who by this time were used to his thanklessness, went on their way anddid their business in the town. As they crossed the heath again on their way home they surprised thedwarf, who had emptied out his bag of precious stones in a clean spot, and had not thought that any one would come there so late. The eveningsun shone upon the brilliant stones; they glittered and sparkled withall colors so beautifully that the children stood still and looked atthem. "Why do you stand gaping there?" cried the dwarf, and hisashen-gray face became copper-red with rage. He was going on with hisbad words when a loud growling was heard, and a black bear came trottingtowards them out of the forest. The dwarf sprang up in a fright, but hecould not get to his cave, for the bear was already close. Then in thedread of his heart he cried, "Dear Mr. Bear, spare me, I will give youall my treasures; look, the beautiful jewels lying there! Grant me mylife; what do you want with such a slender little fellow as I? You wouldnot feel me between your teeth. Come, take these two wicked girls, theyare tender morsels for you, fat as young quails; for mercy's sake eatthem!" The bear took no heed of his words, but gave the wicked creaturea single blow with his paw, and he did not move again. The girls had run away, but the bear called to them, "Snow-white andRose-red, do not be afraid; wait, I will come with you. " Then they knewhis voice and waited, and when he came up to them suddenly his bearskinfell off, and he stood there a handsome man, clothed all in gold. "I ama King's son, " he said, "and I was bewitched by that wicked dwarf, whohad stolen my treasures. I have had to run about the forest as a savagebear until I was freed by his death. Now he has got his well-deservedpunishment. " Snow-white was married to him, and Rose-red to his brother, and theydivided between them the great treasures which the dwarf had gatheredtogether in his cave. The old mother lived peacefully and happily withher children for many years. She took the two rose-trees with her, andthey stood before her window, and every year bore the most beautifulroses, white and red. 180 Whether it is possible to trace all folk tales to India, as some scholars have contended, is a matter yet open to debate. But there can be no doubt that some of the most instructing and valuable of folk tales for use with children are found in the various collections of Indian stories made since the pioneer work of Mary Frere in her _Old Deccan Days_ (1868). A voluminous literature of collections and comment has grown up and is constantly increasing. Four stories that have won great favor with children are given immediately following as the ones probably best fitted for an introductory course. "The Lambikin" is one of the most popular of all. It is an accumulative droll in character and should be told early along with, say, "The Story of the Three Little Pigs. " The children will be sure to notice that Lambikin trundling along in his drumikin has some similarity to the wise pig who traveled so fast down hill in his new churn. The story is taken from _Tales from the Punjab_, collected by Flora Annie Steel, with very valuable notes and analyses by Captain R. C. Temple. THE LAMBIKIN Once upon a time there was a wee wee Lambikin, who frolicked about onhis little tottery legs, and enjoyed himself amazingly. Now one day heset off to visit his Granny, and was jumping with joy to think of allthe good things he should get from her, when whom should he meet but aJackal, who looked at the tender young morsel and said: "Lambikin!Lambikin! I'll EAT YOU!" But Lambikin only gave a little frisk and said: "To Granny's house I go, Where I shall fatter grow, Then you can eat me so. " The Jackal thought this reasonable, and let Lambikin pass. By and by he met a Vulture, and the Vulture, looking hungrily at thetender morsel before him, said: "Lambikin! Lambikin! I'll EAT YOU!" But Lambikin only gave a little frisk, and said: "To Granny's house I go, Where I shall fatter grow, Then you can eat me so. " The Vulture thought this reasonable, and let Lambikin pass. And by and by he met a Tiger, and then a Wolf, and a Dog, and an Eagle, and all these, when they saw the tender little morsel, said: "Lambikin!Lambikin! I'll EAT YOU!" But to all of them Lambikin replied, with a little frisk: "To Granny's house I go, Where I shall fatter grow, Then you can eat me so. " At last he reached his Granny's house, and said, all in a great hurry, "Granny, dear, I've promised to get very fat; so, as people ought tokeep their promises, please put me into the corn-bin _at once_. " So his Granny said he was a good boy, and put him into the corn-bin, andthere the greedy little Lambikin stayed for seven days, and ate, andate, and ate, until he could scarcely waddle, and his Granny said he wasfat enough for anything, and must go home. But cunning little Lambikinsaid that would never do, for some animal would be sure to eat him onthe way back, he was so plump and tender. "I'll tell you what you must do, " said Master Lambikin, "you must make alittle drumikin out of the skin of my little brother who died, and thenI can sit inside and trundle along nicely, for I'm as tight as a drummyself. " So his Granny made a nice little drumikin out of his brother's skin, with the wool inside, and Lambikin curled himself up snug and warm inthe middle, and trundled away gayly. Soon he met with the Eagle, whocalled out: "Drumikin! Drumikin! Have you seen Lambikin?" And Mr. Lambikin, curled up in his soft warm nest, replied: "Lost in the forest, and so are you, On, little Drumikin! Tum-pa, tum-too!" "How very annoying!" sighed the Eagle, thinking regretfully of thetender morsel he had let slip. Meanwhile Lambikin trundled along, laughing to himself, and singing: "Tum-pa, tum-too; Tum-pa, tum-too!" Every animal and bird he met asked him the same question: "Drumikin! Drumikin! Have you seen Lambikin?" And to each of them the little sly-boots replied: "Lost in the forest, and so are you, On, little Drumikin! Tum-pa, tum-too; Tum-pa, tum-too; tum-pa, tum-too!" Then they all sighed to think of the tender little morsel they had letslip. At last the Jackal came limping along, for all his sorry looks as sharpas a needle, and he too called out: "Drumikin! Drumikin! Have you seen Lambikin?" And Lambikin, curled up in his snug little nest, replied gayly: "Lost in the forest, and so are you, On, little Drumikin! Tum-pa--" But he never got any further, for the Jackal recognized his voice atonce, and cried: "Hullo! you've turned yourself inside out, have you?Just you come out of that!" Whereupon he tore open Drumikin and gobbled up Lambikin. 181 The next story, dealing with the idea of "measure for measure, " is from Mary Frere's _Old Deccan Days_. Miss Frere spent many years in India, where her father was a government official. She took down the tales as told by her _ayah_, or lady's maid, who in turn had heard them from her hundred-year-old grandmother. It may be said of this story that while retaliation is certainly not the highest law of conduct, yet the ungracious, inconsiderate action of the jackal makes it impossible to feel the least sympathy for him. TIT FOR TAT There once lived a Camel and a Jackal who were great friends. One daythe Jackal said to the Camel, "I know that there is a fine field ofsugar cane on the other side of the river. If you will take me across, I'll show you the place. This plan will suit me as well as you. You willenjoy eating the sugar cane, and I am sure to find many crabs, bones, and bits of fish by the river side, on which to make a good dinner. " The Camel consented, and swam across the river, taking the Jackal, whocould not swim, on his back. When they reached the other side, the Camelwent to eat the sugar cane, and the Jackal ran up and down the riverbank, devouring all the crabs, bits of fish, and bones he could find. But being so much smaller an animal, he had made an excellent mealbefore the Camel had eaten more than two or three mouthfuls; and nosooner had he finished his dinner than he ran round and round thesugar-cane field, yelping and howling with all his might. The villagers heard him, and thought, "There is a Jackal among the sugarcanes; he will be scratching holes in the ground and spoiling the rootsof the plants. " And they went down to the place to drive him away. Butwhen they got there they found to their surprise not only a Jackal, buta Camel who was eating the sugar canes! This made them very angry, andthey caught the poor Camel and drove him from the field and beat himuntil he was nearly dead. When the villagers had gone, the Jackal said to the Camel, "We hadbetter go home. " And the Camel, said, "Very well; then jump upon myback, as you did before. " So the Jackal jumped upon the Camel's back, and the Camel began torecross the river. When they had got well into the water, the Camelsaid, "This is a pretty way in which you have treated me, friend Jackal. No sooner had you finished your own dinner than you must go yelpingabout the place loud enough to arouse the whole village, and bring allthe villagers down to beat me black and blue, and turn me out of thefield before I had eaten two mouthfuls! What in the world did you makesuch a noise for?" "I don't know, " said the Jackal. "It is a custom I have. I always liketo sing a little after dinner. " The Camel waded on through the river. The water reached up to hisknees--then above them--up, up, up, higher and higher, until at last hewas obliged to swim. Then turning to the Jackal, he said, "I feel very anxious to roll. " "Oh, pray don't; why do you wish to do so?" asked the Jackal. "I don't know, " answered the Camel. "It is a custom I have. I alwayslike to have a little roll after dinner. " So saying, he rolled over in the water, shaking the Jackal off as he didso. And the Jackal was drowned, but the Camel swam safely ashore. 182 The fine story following is from Steel's _Tales of the Punjab_. Scholars have pointed out a hundred or more variants. Such trickery as that used by the jackal in trapping the tiger is the common thing to find in folk tales where oppressed weakness is matched against ruthless and tyrannic power. The tiger's ingratitude precludes any desire to "take his part. " The attitude of the three judges is determined in each case by the fact that the experience of each has hardened him and rendered him completely hopeless and unsympathetic. "The work of the buffalo in the oil-press, " says Captain Temple, "is the synonym all India over--and with good reason--for hard and thankless toil for another's benefit. " THE TIGER, THE BRAHMAN, AND THE JACKAL Once upon a time a tiger was caught in a trap. He tried in vain to getout through the bars, and rolled and bit with rage and grief when hefailed. By chance a poor Brahman came by. "Let me out of this cage, O piousone!" cried the tiger. "Nay, my friend, " replied the Brahman mildly; "you would probably eat meif I did. " "Not at all!" swore the tiger with many oaths; "on the contrary, Ishould be forever grateful, and serve you as a slave. " Now, when the tiger sobbed and sighed and wept and swore, the piousBrahman's heart softened, and at last he consented to open the door ofthe cage. Out popped the tiger, and, seizing the poor man, cried, "Whata fool you are! What is to prevent my eating you now, for after beingcooped up so long I am just terribly hungry?" In vain the Brahman pleaded for his life; the most he could gain was apromise to abide by the decision of the first three things he chose toquestion as to the justice of the tiger's action. So the Brahman first asked a _pipal_ tree what it thought of the matter, but the _pipal_ tree replied coldly, "What have you to complain about?Don't I give shade and shelter to every one who passes by, and don'tthey in return tear down my branches to feed their cattle? Don'twhimper--be a man!" Then the Brahman, sad at heart, went further afield till he saw abuffalo turning a well-wheel; but he fared no better from it, for itanswered: "You are a fool to expect gratitude! Look at me! While I gavemilk they fed me on cotton-seed and oil-cake, but now I am dry they yokeme here, and give me refuse as fodder!" The Brahman, still more sad, asked the road to give him its opinion. "My dear sir, " said the road, "how foolish you are to expect anythingelse! Here am I, useful to everybody, yet all, rich and poor, great andsmall, trample on me as they go past, giving me nothing but the ashes oftheir pipes and the husks of their grain!" On this the Brahman turned back sorrowfully, and on the way he met ajackal, who called out, "Why, what's the matter, Mr. Brahman? You lookas miserable as a fish out of water!" The Brahman told him all that had occurred. "How very confusing!" saidthe jackal, when the recital was ended; "would you mind telling me overagain, for everything seems so mixed up?" The Brahman told it all over again, but the jackal shook his head in adistracted sort of way, and still could not understand. "It's very odd, " said he sadly, "but it all seems to go in at one earand out at the other! I will go to the place where it all happened, andthen, perhaps, I shall be able to give a judgment. " So they returned to the cage, by which the tiger was waiting for theBrahman, and sharpening his teeth and claws. "You've been away a long time!" growled the savage beast, "but now letus begin our dinner. " "_Our_ dinner!" thought the wretched Brahman, as his knees knockedtogether with fright; "what a remarkably delicate way of putting it!" "Give me five minutes, my lord!" he pleaded, "in order that I mayexplain matters to the jackal here, who is somewhat slow in his wits. " The tiger consented, and the Brahman began the whole story over again, not missing a single detail, and spinning as long a yarn as possible. "Oh, my poor brain! oh, my poor brain!" cried the jackal, wringing itspaws. "Let me see! how did it all begin? You were in the cage, and thetiger came walking by--" "Pooh!" interrupted the tiger, "what a fool you are! _I_ was in thecage. " "Of course!" cried the jackal, pretending to tremble with fright; "yes!I was in the cage--no, I wasn't--dear! dear! where are my wits? Let mesee--the tiger was in the Brahman, and the cage came walking by--no, that's not it, either! Well, don't mind me, but begin your dinner, for Ishall never understand!" "Yes, you shall!" returned the tiger, in a rage at the jackal'sstupidity; "I'll _make_ you understand! Look here--I am the tiger--" "Yes, my lord!" "And that is the Brahman--" "Yes, my lord!" "And that is the cage--" "Yes, my lord!" "And I was in the cage--do you understand?" "Yes--no----Please, my lord--" "Well?" cried the tiger impatiently. "Please, my lord! How did you get in?" "How? Why in the usual way, of course!" "Oh, dear me! my head is beginning to whirl again! Please don't beangry, my lord, but what is the usual way?" At this the tiger lost patience, and jumping into the cage, cried, "Thisway! Now do you understand how it was?" "Perfectly!" grinned the jackal, as he dexterously shut the door, "andif you will permit me to say so, I think matters will remain as theywere!" 183 The story that follows is from Mrs. Kingscote's _Tales of the Sun_, as reprinted in Joseph Jacobs' _Indian Fairy Tales_. Mr. Jacobs explains that he "changed the Indian mercantile numerals into those of English 'back-slang, ' which make a very good parallel. " As in other cases, the value of Jacobs' collection must be emphasized. If the teacher is limited to a single book for story material from the Hindoos, that book must be the one made by Joseph Jacobs. With well-chosen tales, with the slight changes here and there necessary for use with children, with just enough scholarship packed out of the way in the introduction and notes, the book has no rival. PRIDE GOETH BEFORE A FALL In a certain village there lived ten cloth merchants, who always wentabout together. Once upon a time they had traveled far afield, and werereturning home with a great deal of money which they had obtained byselling their wares. Now there happened to be a dense forest near theirvillage, and this they reached early one morning. In it there livedthree notorious robbers, of whose existence the traders had never heard, and while they were still in the middle of it the robbers stood beforethem, with swords and cudgels in their hands, and ordered them to laydown all they had. The traders had no weapons with them, and so, thoughthey were many more in number, they had to submit themselves to therobbers, who took away everything from them, even the very clothes theywore, and gave to each only a small loin-cloth a span in breadth and acubit in length. The idea that they had conquered ten men and plundered all theirproperty now took possession of the robbers' minds. They seatedthemselves like three monarchs before the men they had plundered, andordered them to dance to them before returning home. The merchants nowmourned their fate. They had lost all they had, except their loin-cloth, and still the robbers were not satisfied, but ordered them to dance. There was among the ten merchants one who was very clever. He ponderedover the calamity that had come upon him and his friends, the dance theywould have to perform, and the magnificent manner in which the threerobbers had seated themselves on the grass. At the same time he observedthat these last had placed their weapons on the ground, in the assuranceof having thoroughly cowed the traders, who were now commencing todance; and, as a song is always sung by the leader on such occasions, towhich the rest keep time with hands and feet, he thus began to sing: "We are enty men, They are erith men: If each erith man, Surround eno men Eno man remains. _Tâ, tai tôm, tadingana. _" The robbers were all uneducated, and thought that the leader was merelysinging a song as usual. So it was in one sense; for the leadercommenced from a distance, and had sung the song over twice before heand his companions commenced to approach the robbers. They hadunderstood his meaning, because they had been trained in trade. When two traders discuss the price of an article in the presence of apurchaser, they use a riddling sort of language. "What is the price of this cloth?" one trader will ask. "Enty rupees, " another will reply, meaning "ten rupees. " Thus there is no possibility of the purchaser knowing what is meantunless he be acquainted with trade language. By the rules of this secretlanguage erith means "three, " enty means "ten, " and eno means "one. " Sothe leader by his song meant to hint to his fellow-traders that theywere ten men, the robbers only three, that if three pounced upon each ofthe robbers, nine of them could hold them down, while the remaining onebound the robbers' hands and feet. The three thieves, glorying in their victory, and little understandingthe meaning of the song and the intentions of the dancers, were proudlyseated chewing betel and tobacco. Meanwhile the song was sung a thirdtime. _Tâ tai tôm_ had left the lips of the singer; and, before_tadingana_ was out of them, the traders separated into parties ofthree, and each party pounced upon a thief. The remaining one--theleader himself--tore up into long narrow strips a large piece of cloth, six cubits long, and tied the hands and feet of the robbers. These wereentirely humbled now, and rolled on the ground like three bags of rice! The ten traders now took back all their property, and armed themselveswith the swords and cudgels of their enemies; and when they reachedtheir village they often amused their friends and relatives by relatingtheir adventure. 184 In recent years several Japanese stories have made their way into the list of those frequently used in the lower grades. Some of these are of unusual beauty and suggestiveness. The oriental point of view is so different from that of western children that these stories often cannot be used in their fully original form, although it would be a distinct loss if the available elements were therefore discarded. So, in this instance departing from the plan of giving only authentic copies of the tales here reprinted, the excellent retold versions of two Japanese stories are given as made by Teresa Peirce Williston in her _Japanese Fairy Tales_. (Copyrighted. Used by permission of the publishers, Rand McNally & Co. ) In these simple versions the point to the story is made clear in natural fashion without undue moralizing. THE MIRROR OF MATSUYAMA VERSION BY TERESA PEIRCE WILLISTON In Matsuyama there lived a man, his wife, and their little daughter. They loved each other very much, and were very happy together. One daythe man came home very sad. He had received a message from the Emperor, which said that he must take a journey to far-off Tokio. They had no horses and in those days there were no railroads in Japan. The man knew that he must walk the whole distance. It was not the longwalk that he minded, however. It was because it would take him many daysfrom home. Still he must obey his Emperor, so he made ready to start. His wife wasvery sorry that he must go, and yet a little proud, too, for no one elsein the village had ever taken so long a journey. She and the baby walked with him down to the turn in the road. Therethey stood and watched him through their tears, as he followed the pathup through the pines on the mountain side. At last, no larger than aspeck, he disappeared behind the hills. Then they went home to await hisreturn. For three long weeks they waited. Each day they spoke of him, andcounted the days until they should see his dear face again. At last thetime came. They walked down to the turn in the road to wait for hiscoming. Up on the mountain side some one was walking toward them. As hecame nearer they could see that it was the one for whom they waited. The good wife could scarcely believe that her husband was indeed safehome again. The baby girl laughed and clapped her hands to see the toyshe brought her. There was a tiny image of Uzume, the laughter-loving goddess. Next camea little red monkey of cotton, with a blue head. When she pressed thespring he ran to the top of the rod. Oh, how wonderful was the thirdgift! It was a _tombo_, or dragon fly. When she first looked at it shesaw only a piece of wood shaped like a T. The cross piece was paintedwith different bright colors. But the queer thing, when her fathertwirled it between his fingers, would rise in the air, dipping andhovering like a real dragon fly. Last, of course, there was a _ninghio_, or doll, with a sweet face, slanting eyes, and such wonderful hair. Her name was O-Hina-San. He told of the Feast of the Dead which he had seen in Tokio. He told ofthe beautiful lanterns, the Lanterns of the Dead; and the pine torchesburning before each house. He told of the tiny boats made of barleystraw and filled with food that are set floating away on the river, bearing two tiny lanterns to guide them to the Land of the Dead. At last her husband handed the wife a small white box. "Tell me what yousee inside, " he said. She opened it and took out something round andbright. On one side were buds and flowers of frosted silver. The other side atfirst looked as clear and bright as a pool of water. When she moved it alittle she saw in it a most beautiful woman. "Oh, what a beautiful picture!" she cried. "It is of a woman and sheseems to be smiling and talking just as I am. She has on a blue dressjust like mine, too! How strange!" Then her husband laughed and said: "That is a mirror. It is yourself yousee reflected in it. All the women in Tokio have them. " The wife was delighted with her present, and looked at it very often. She liked to see the smiling red lips, the laughing eyes, and beautifuldark hair. After a while she said to herself: "How foolish this is of me to sit andgaze at myself in this mirror! I am not more beautiful than other women. How much better for me to enjoy others' beauty, and forget my own face. I shall only remember that it must always be happy and smiling or itwill make no one else happy. I do not wish any cross or angry look ofmine to make any one sad. " She put the mirror carefully away in its box. Only twice in a year shelooked at it. Then it was to see if her face was still such as wouldmake others happy. The years passed by in their sweet and simple life until the baby hadgrown to be a big girl. Her _ninghio_, her _tombo_, the image of Uzume, even the cotton monkey, were put carefully away for her own children. This girl was the very image of her mother. She was just as sweet andloving, just as kind and helpful. One day her mother became very ill. Although the girl and her father didall they could for her, she grew worse and worse. At last she knew that she must die, so she called her daughter to herand said: "My child, I know that I must soon leave you, but I wish toleave something with you in my place. Open this box and see what youfind in it. " The girl opened the box and looked for the first time in a mirror. "Oh, mother dear!" she cried. "I see you here. Not thin and pale as you arenow, but happy and smiling, as you have always been. " Then her mother said: "When I am gone, will you look in this everymorning and every night? If anything troubles you, tell me about it. Always try to do right, so that you will see only happiness here. " Every morning when the sun rose and the birds began to twitter and sing, the girl rose and looked in her mirror. There she saw the bright, happyface that she remembered as her mother's. Every evening when the shadows fell and the birds were asleep, shelooked again. She told it all that had happened during the day. When ithad been a happy day the face smiled back at her. When she was sad theface looked sad, too. She was very careful not to do anything unkind, for she knew how sad the face would be then. So each day she grew more kind and loving, and more like the motherwhose face she saw each day and loved. 185 This favorite story of "The Tongue-Cut Sparrow" is from Mrs. Williston's _Japanese Fairy Tales_. (Copyrighted. Used by permission. ) THE TONGUE-CUT SPARROW VERSION BY TERESA PEIRCE WILLISTON In a little old house in a little old village in Japan lived a littleold man and his little old wife. One morning when the old woman slid open the screens which form thesides of all Japanese houses, she saw, on the doorstep, a poor littlesparrow. She took him up gently and fed him. Then she held him in thebright morning sunshine until the cold dew was dried from his wings. Afterward she let him go, so that he might fly home to his nest, but hestayed to thank her with his songs. Each morning, when the pink on the mountain tops told that the sun wasnear, the sparrow perched on the roof of the house and sang out his joy. The old man and woman thanked the sparrow for this, for they liked to beup early and at work. But near them there lived a cross old woman whodid not like to be awakened so early. At last she became so angry thatshe caught the sparrow and cut his tongue. Then the poor little sparrowflew away to his home, but he could never sing again. When the kind woman knew what had happened to her pet she was very sad. She said to her husband, "Let us go and find our poor little sparrow. "So they started together, and asked of each bird by the wayside: "Do youknow where the Tongue-Cut Sparrow lives? Do you know where theTongue-Cut Sparrow went?" In this way they followed until they came to a bridge. They did not knowwhich way to turn, and at first could see no one to ask. At last they saw a Bat hanging head downward, taking his daytime nap. "Oh, friend Bat, do you know where the Tongue-Cut Sparrow went?" theyasked. "Yes. Over the bridge and up the mountain, " said the Bat. Then heblinked his sleepy eyes and was fast asleep again. They went over the bridge and up the mountain, but again they found tworoads and did not know which one to take. A little Field Mouse peepedthrough the leaves and grass, so they asked him, "Do you know where theTongue-Cut Sparrow went?" "Yes. Down the mountain and through the woods, " said the Field Mouse. Down the mountain and through the woods they went, and at last came tothe home of their little friend. When he saw them coming the poor little sparrow was very happy indeed. He and his wife and children all came and bowed their heads down to theground to show their respect. Then the Sparrow rose and led the old manand the old woman into his house, while his wife and children hastenedto bring them boiled rice, fish, cress, and saké. After they had feasted, the Sparrow wished to please them still more, sohe danced for them what is called the "sparrow-dance. " When the sun began to sink, the old man and woman started for home. TheSparrow brought out two baskets. "I would like to give you one ofthese, " he said. "Which will you take?" One basket was large and lookedvery full, while the other one seemed very small and light. The oldpeople thought they would not take the large basket, for that might haveall the Sparrow's treasure in it, so they said, "The way is long and weare very old, so please let us take the smaller one. " They took it and walked home over the mountain and across the bridge, happy and contented. When they reached their own home they decided to open the basket and seewhat the Sparrow had given them. Within the basket they found many rollsof silk and piles of gold, enough to make them rich, so they were moregrateful than ever to the Sparrow. The cross old woman who had cut the Sparrow's tongue was peering inthrough the screen when they opened their basket. She saw the rolls ofsilk and the piles of gold, and planned how she might get some forherself. The next morning she went to the kind woman and said: "I am so sorrythat I cut the tongue of your Sparrow. Please tell me the way to hishome so that I may go to him and tell him I am sorry. " The kind woman told her the way and she set out. She went across thebridge, over the mountain, and through the woods. At last she came tothe home of the little Sparrow. He was not so glad to see this old woman, yet he was very kind to herand did everything to make her feel welcome. They made a feast for her, and when she started home the Sparrow brought out two baskets as before. Of course the woman chose the large basket, for she thought that wouldhave even more wealth than the other one. It was very heavy, and caught on the trees as she was going through thewood. She could hardly pull it up the mountain with her, and she was allout of breath when she reached the top. She did not get to the bridgeuntil it was dark. Then she was so afraid of dropping the basket intothe river that she scarcely dared to step. When at last she reached home she was so tired that she was half dead, but she pulled the screens close shut, so that no one could look in, andopened her treasure. Treasure indeed! A whole swarm of horrible creatures burst from thebasket the moment she opened it. They stung her and bit her, they pushedher and pulled her, they scratched her and laughed at her screams. At last she crawled to the edge of the room and slid aside the screen toget away from the pests. The moment the door was opened they swoopeddown upon her, picked her up, and flew away with her. Since then nothinghas ever been heard of the old woman. 186 The tale of "The Straw Ox" as given in _Cossack Fairy Tales_, by R. Nesbit Bain, is one of the masterpieces among folk stories. It is of the accumulative type, winding up rapidly to the point where the old couple have secured, through the straw ox, all the raw material needed for comfortable clothing. Then comes the surprising release of the captured animals under promise to make contributions, each in his own way, to the welfare of the poverty-stricken couple. And then, the greatest surprise of all, the quick unwinding of the plot with the return of the grateful animals according to promise. "And the old man was glad, and the old woman was glad, " and we are glad for their sake, and also for the sake of the bear and the wolf and the fox and the hare. THE STRAW OX There was once upon a time an old man and an old woman. The old manworked in the fields as a pitch-burner, while the old woman sat at homeand spun flax. They were so poor that they could save nothing at all;all their earnings went in bare food, and when that was gone there wasnothing left. At last the old woman had a good idea: "Look now, husband, " cried she, "make me a straw ox, and smear it all over withtar. " "Why, you foolish woman!" said he, "what's the good of an ox of thatsort?" "Never mind, " said she, "you just make it. I know what I am about. " What was the poor man to do? He set to work and made the ox of straw, and smeared it all over with tar. The night passed away, and at early dawn the old woman took her distaff, and drove the straw ox out into the steppe to graze, and she herself satdown behind a hillock, and began spinning her flax, and cried: "Grazeaway, little ox, while I spin my flax. Graze away, little ox, while Ispin my flax!" And while she spun, her head drooped down and she began to doze, andwhile she was dozing, from behind the dark wood and from the back of thehuge pines a bear came rushing out upon the ox and said: "Who are you?Speak, and tell me!" And the ox said: "A three-year-old heifer am I, made of straw andsmeared with tar. " "Oh!" said the bear, "stuffed with straw and trimmed with tar, are you?Then give me your straw and tar, that I may patch up my ragged furagain!" "Take some, " said the ox, and the bear fell upon him and began to tearaway at the tar. He tore and tore, and buried his teeth in it till he found he couldn'tlet go again. He tugged and he tugged but it was no good, and the oxdragged him gradually off, goodness knows where. Then the old woman awoke, and there was no ox to be seen. "Alas! oldfool that I am!" cried she, "perchance it has gone home. " Then shequickly caught up her distaff and spinning board, threw them over hershoulders, and hastened off home, and she saw that the ox had draggedthe bear up to the fence, and in she went to her old man. "Dad, dad, " she cried, "look, look! The ox has brought us a bear. Comeout and kill it!" Then the old man jumped up, tore off the bear, tiedhim up, and threw him in the cellar. Next morning, between dark and dawn, the old woman took her distaff anddrove the ox into the steppe to graze. She herself sat down by a mound, began spinning, and said: "Graze, graze away, little ox, while I spinmy flax! Graze, graze away, little ox, while I spin my flax!" And while she spun, her head drooped down and she dozed. And lo! frombehind the dark wood, from the back of the huge pines, a gray wolf camerushing out upon the ox and said: "Who are you? Come, tell me!" "I am a three-year-old heifer, stuffed with straw and trimmed with tar, "said the ox. "Oh! trimmed with tar, are you? Then give me of your tar to tar mysides, that the dogs and the sons of dogs tear me not!" "Take some, " said the ox. And with that the wolf fell upon him and triedto tear the tar off. He tugged and tugged, and tore with his teeth, butcould get none off. Then he tried to let go, and couldn't; tug and worryas he might, it was no good. When the old woman woke, there was no heifer in sight. "Maybe my heiferhas gone home!" she cried. "I'll go home and see. " When she got thereshe was astonished for by the paling stood the ox with the wolf stilltugging at it. She ran and told her old man, and her old man came andthrew the wolf into the cellar also. On the third day the old woman again drove her ox into the pastures tograze, and sat down by a mound and dozed off. Then a fox came runningup. "Who are you?" it asked the ox. "I'm a three-year-old heifer, stuffed with straw and daubed with tar. " "Then give me some of your tar to smear my sides with, when those dogsand sons of dogs tear my hide!" "Take some, " said the ox. Then the fox fastened her teeth in him andcouldn't draw them out again. The old woman told her old man, and hetook and cast the fox into the cellar in the same way. And after thatthey caught Pussy Swiftfoot likewise. So when he had got them all safely the old man sat down on a benchbefore the cellar and began sharpening a knife. And the bear said tohim: "Tell me, daddy, what are you sharpening your knife for?" "To flay your skin off, that I may make a leather jacket for myself anda pelisse for my old woman. " "Oh! Don't flay me, daddy dear! Rather let me go, and I'll bring you alot of honey. " "Very well, see you do it, " and he unbound and let the bear go. Then he sat down on the bench and again began sharpening his knife. Andthe wolf asked him: "Daddy, what are you sharpening your knife for?" "To flay off your skin, that I may make me a warm cap against thewinter. " "Oh! Don't flay me, daddy dear, and I'll bring you a whole herd oflittle sheep. " "Well, see that you do it, " and he let the wolf go. Then he sat down, and began sharpening his knife again. The fox put outher little snout, and asked him: "Be so kind, dear daddy, and tell mewhy you are sharpening your knife!" "Little foxes, " said the old man, "have nice skins that do capitally forcollars and trimmings, and I want to skin you!" "Oh! Don't take my skin away, daddy dear, and I will bring you hens andgeese. " "Very well, see that you do it, " and he let the fox go. The hare now alone remained, and the old man began sharpening his knifeon the hare's account. "Why do you do that?" asked Puss. He replied: "Little hares have nicelittle, soft, warm skins, which will make me nice gloves and mittensagainst the winter!" "Oh! daddy dear! Don't flay me, and I'll bring you kale and goodcauliflower, if only you let me go!" Then he let the hare go also. Then they went to bed; but very early in the morning, when it wasneither dusk nor dawn, there was a noise in the doorway like "Durrrrrr!" "Daddy!" cried the old woman, "there's some one scratching at the door;go and see who it is!" The old man went out, and there was the bear carrying a whole hive fullof honey. The old man took the honey from the bear; but no sooner did helie down again than there was another "Durrrrr!" at the door. The oldman looked out and saw the wolf driving a whole flock of sheep into thecourt-yard. Close on his heels came the fox, driving before him thegeese and hens, and all manner of fowls; and last of all came the hare, bringing cabbage and kale, and all manner of good food. And the old man was glad, and the old woman was glad. And the old mansold the sheep and oxen, and got so rich that he needed nothing more. As for the straw-stuffed ox, it stood in the sun till it fell to pieces. 187 "The Adventures of Connla the Comely" is one of the romances in _The Book of the Dun Cow_, the oldest manuscript of miscellaneous Gaelic literature in existence. It was made about 1100 A. D. And is now preserved in the Royal Irish Academy at Dublin. The contents were transcribed from older books, some of the stories being older by many centuries. The story of Connla is "one of the many tales that illustrate the ancient and widespread superstition that fairies sometimes take away mortals to their palaces in the fairy forts and pleasant green hills. " This conception is often referred to as the Earthly Paradise or the Isle of Youth. It is represented in the King Arthur stories by the Vale of Avalon to which the weeping queens carried the king after his mortal wound in "that last weird battle in the west. " Conn the Hundred-fighter reigned in the second century of the Christian era (123-157 A. D. ), and this story of his son must have sprung up soon after. According to Jacobs, it is the oldest fairy tale of modern Europe. The following version of the tale is from Joseph Jacobs' _Celtic Fairy Tales_, which with its companion volume, _More Celtic Fairy Tales_, forms a standard source book for the usable stories in that field. Mr. Jacobs, as always, keeps to the authoritative versions while reducing them to forms at once available for educational purposes. CONNLA AND THE FAIRY MAIDEN Connla of the Fiery Hair was son of Conn of the Hundred Fights. One dayas he stood by the side of his father on the height of Usna, he saw amaiden clad in strange attire towards him coming. "Whence comest thou, maiden?" said Connla. "I come from the Plains of the Ever Living, " she said, "there where isneither death nor sin. There we keep holiday alway, nor need we helpfrom any in our joy. And in all our pleasure we have no strife. Andbecause we have our homes in the round green hills, men call us the HillFolk. " The king and all with him wondered much to hear a voice when they saw noone. For save Connla alone, none saw the Fairy Maiden. "To whom art thou talking, my son?" said Conn the king. Then the maiden answered, "Connla speaks to a young, fair maid, whomneither death nor old age awaits. I love Connla, and now I call him awayto the Plain of Pleasure, Moy Mell, where Boadag is king for aye, norhas there been sorrow or complaint in that land since he held thekingship. Oh, come with me, Connla of the Fiery Hair, ruddy as the dawn, with thy tawny skin. A fairy crown awaits thee to grace thy comely faceand royal form. Come, and never shall thy comeliness fade, nor thyyouth, till the last awful day of judgment. " The king in fear at what the maiden said, which he heard though he couldnot see her, called aloud to his Druid, Coran by name. "O Coran of themany spells, " he said, "and of the cunning magic, I call upon thy aid. Atask is upon me too great for all my skill and wit, greater than anylaid upon me since I seized the kingship. A maiden unseen has met us, and by her power would take from me my dear, my comely son. If thou helpnot, he will be taken from thy king by woman's wiles and witchery. " Then Coran the Druid stood forth and chanted his spells towards the spotwhere the maiden's voice had been heard. And none heard her voice again, nor could Connla see her longer. Only as she vanished before the Druid'smighty spell, she threw an apple to Connla. For a whole month from that day Connla would take nothing, either to eator to drink, save only from that apple. But as he ate, it grew again and always kept whole. And all the whilethere grew within him a mighty yearning and longing after the maiden hehad seen. But when the last day of the month of waiting came, Connla stood by theside of the king his father on the Plain of Arcomin, and again he sawthe maiden come towards him, and again she spoke to him. "'Tis aglorious place, forsooth, that Connla holds among shortlived mortalsawaiting the day of death. But now the folk of life, the ever-livingones, beg and bid thee come to Moy Mell, the Plain of Pleasure, for theyhave learnt to know thee, seeing thee in thy home among thy dear ones. " When Conn the king heard the maiden's voice he called to his men aloudand said: "Summon swift my Druid Coran, for I see she has again this daythe power of speech. " Then the maiden said: "O mighty Conn, Fighter of a Hundred Fights, theDruid's power is little loved; it has little honor in the mighty land, peopled with so many of the upright. When the Law comes, it will do awaywith the Druid's magic spells that issue from the lips of the falseblack demon. " Then Conn the king observed that since the coming of the maiden Connlahis son spoke to none that spake to him. So Conn of the Hundred Fightssaid to him, "Is it to thy mind what the woman says, my son?" "'Tis hard upon me, " said Connla; "I love my own folk above all things;but yet a longing seizes me for the maiden. " When the maiden heard this, she answered and said: "The ocean is not sostrong as the waves of thy longing. Come with me in my curragh, thegleaming, straight-gliding crystal canoe. Soon can we reach Boadag'srealm. I see the bright sun sink, yet far as it is, we can reach itbefore dark. There is, too, another land worthy of thy journey, a landjoyous to all that seek it. Only wives and maidens dwell there. If thouwilt, we can seek it and live there alone together in joy. " When the maiden ceased to speak, Connla of the Fiery Hair rushed awayfrom his kinsmen and sprang into the curragh, the gleaming, straight-gliding crystal canoe. And then they all, king and court, sawit glide away over the bright sea towards the setting sun, away andaway, till eye could see it no longer. So Connla and the Fairy Maidenwent forth on the sea, and were no more seen, nor did any know whitherthey went. 188 One of the best of the volumes of Irish tales is Lady Wilde's _Ancient Legends of Ireland_, and one of the best stories in that volume is her version of the witch story of "The Horned Women. " The story is compact and restrained in the telling, and carries effectively to the listener the "creepy" spell of the witches. The way in which the house was prepared against the enchantments of the returning witches furnishes a good illustration of some of the deep-seated superstitions of the folk. THE HORNED WOMEN A rich woman sat up late one night carding and preparing wool, while allthe family and servants were asleep. Suddenly a knock was given at thedoor, and a voice called, "Open! Open!" "Who is there?" said the woman of the house. "I am the Witch of the one Horn, " was answered. The mistress, supposing that one of her neighbors had called andrequired assistance, opened the door, and a woman entered, having in herhand a pair of wool carders, and bearing a horn on her forehead, as ifgrowing there. She sat down by the fire in silence, and began to cardthe wool with violent haste. Suddenly she paused, and said aloud: "Whereare the women; they delay too long. " Then a second knock came to the door, and a voice called as before, "Open! Open!" The mistress felt herself constrained to rise and open to the call, andimmediately a second witch entered, having two horns on her forehead, and in her hand a wheel for spinning wool. "Give me place, " she said, "I am the Witch of the two Horns"; and shebegan to spin as quick as lightning. And so the knocks went on, and the call was heard, and the witchesentered, until at last, twelve women sat round the fire--the first withone horn, the last with twelve horns. And they carded the thread, and turned their spinning wheels, and woundand wove. All were singing together an ancient rhyme, but no word did they speakto the mistress of the house. Strange to hear and frightful to look uponwere these twelve women, with their horns and their wheels; and themistress felt near to death, and she tried to rise that she might callfor help, but she could not move, nor could she utter a word or a cry, for the spell of the witches was upon her. Then one of them called to her in Irish, and said, "Rise, woman, andmake us a cake. " Then the mistress searched for a vessel to bring waterfrom the well that she might mix the meal and make the cake, but shecould find none. And they said to her, "Take a sieve, and bring water in it. " And shetook the sieve and went to the well; but the water poured from it, andshe could fetch none for the cake, and she sat down by the well andwept. Then came a voice by her, and said, "Take yellow clay and moss and bindthem together, and plaster the sieve so that it will hold. " This she did, and the sieve held the water for the cake; and the voicesaid again: "Return, and when thou comest to the north angle of thehouse cry aloud three times, and say, 'The mountain of the Fenian womenand the sky over it is all on fire. '" And she did so. When the witches inside heard the call, a great and terrible cry brokefrom their lips, and they rushed forth with wild lamentations andshrieks, and fled away to Slievenamon, where was their chief abode. Butthe Spirit of the Well bade the mistress of the house to enter andprepare her home against the enchantments of the witches, if theyreturned again. And first, to break their spells, she sprinkled the water in which shehad washed her child's feet (the feet-water) outside the door on thethreshold; secondly, she took the cake which the witches had made in herabsence, of meal mixed with the blood drawn from the sleeping family, and she broke the cake in bits, and placed a bit in the mouth of eachsleeper, and they were restored; and she took the cloth they had woven, and placed it half in and half out of the chest with the padlock; and, lastly, she secured the door with a great crossbeam fastened in thejambs, so that they could not enter, and having done these things shewaited. Not long were the witches in coming, and they raged and called forvengeance. "Open! Open!" they screamed. "Open, feet-water!" "I cannot, " said the feet-water; "I am scattered on the ground, and mypath is down to the Lough. " "Open, open, wood and trees and beam!" they cried to the door. "I cannot, " said the door, "for the beam is fixed in the jambs, and Ihave no power to move. " "Open, open, cake that we have made and mingled with blood!" they criedagain. "I cannot, " said the cake, "for I am broken and bruised, and my blood ison the lips of the sleeping children. " Then the witches rushed through the air with great cries, and fled backto Slievenamon, uttering strange curses on the Spirit of the Well, whohad wished their ruin. But the woman and the house were left in peace, and a mantle dropped by one of the witches was kept hung up by themistress as a sign of the night's awful contest; and this mantle was inpossession of the same family from generation to generation for fivehundred years after. 189 The story of "King O'Toole and His Goose" is from Samuel Lover's _Stories and Legends of the Irish Peasantry_, as reprinted in slightly abridged form in William Butler Yeats's _Irish Fairy Tales_. The extreme form of the dialect is kept as in the original, since the humor is largely dependent on the language of the peasant who tells the story. It will serve as a good illustration for practice work for the amateur story-teller. Probably most teachers would find it necessary to "reduce" this dialect or to eliminate it altogether. Mr. Jacobs, who includes this story in his _Celtic Fairy Tales_, reduces the dialect very materially, keeping just enough to remind one that it is Irish. He also says the final word as to the moral of the story: "This is a moral apologue on the benefits of keeping your word. Yet it is told with such humor and vigor, that the moral glides insensibly into the heart. " KING O'TOOLE AND HIS GOOSE "By Gor, I thought all the world, far and near, heerd o' KingO'Toole--well, well, but the darkness of mankind is ontellible! Well, sir, you must know, as you didn't hear it afore, that there was a king, called King O'Toole, who was a fine ould king in the ould ancient times, long ago; and it was him that owned the churches in the early days. Theking, you see, was the right sort; he was the rale boy, and loved sportas he loved his life, and huntin' in partic'lar; and from the risin' o'the sun, up he got, and away he wint over the mountains beyant aftherthe deer; and the fine times them wor. "Well, it was all mighty good, as long as the king had his health; but, you see, in coorse of time the king grew ould, by raison he was stiff inhis limbs, and when he got sthriken in years, his heart failed him, andhe was lost intirely for want o' divarshin, bekase he couldn't go ahuntin' no longer; and, by dad, the poor king was obleeged at last forto get a goose to divart him. Oh, you may laugh, if you like, but it'struth I'm tellin' you; and the way the goose divarted him wasthis-a-way: You see, the goose used for to swim across the lake, and godivin' for throut, and cotch fish on a Friday for the king, and flewevery other day round about the lake, divartin' the poor king. All wenton mighty well, antil, by dad, the goose got sthriken in years like hermaster, and couldn't divart him no longer, and then it was that the poorking was lost complate. The king was walkin' one mornin' by the edge ofthe lake, lamentin' his cruel fate, and thinkin' o' drownin' himself, that could get no divarshun in life, when all of a suddint, turnin'round the corner beyant, who should he meet but a mighty dacent youngman comin' up to him. "'God save you, ' says the king to the young man. "'God save you kindly, King O'Toole, ' says the young man. 'Thrue foryou, ' says the king. 'I am King O'Toole, ' says he, 'prince andplennypennytinchery o' these parts, ' says he; 'but how kem ye to knowthat?' says he. 'Oh, never mind, ' says Saint Kavin. "You see it was Saint Kavin, sure enough--the saint himself in disguise, and nobody else. 'Oh, never mind, ' says he, 'I know more than that. MayI make bowld to ax how is your goose, King O'Toole?' says he. 'Bluran-agers, how kem ye to know about my goose?' says the king. 'Oh, no matther; I was given to understand it, ' says Saint Kavin. After somemore talk the king says, 'What are you?' 'I'm an honest man, ' says SaintKavin. 'Well, honest man, ' says the king, 'and how is it you make yourmoney so aisy?' 'By makin' ould things as good as new, ' says SaintKavin. 'Is it a tinker you are?' says the king. 'No, ' says the saint;'I'm no tinker by thrade, King O'Toole; I've a betther thrade than atinker, ' says he--'what would you say, ' says he, 'if I made your ouldgoose as good as new?' "My dear, at the word o' makin' his goose as good as new, you'd thinkthe poor ould king's eyes was ready to jump out iv his head. With thatthe king whistled, and down kem the poor goose, all as one as a hound, waddlin' up to the poor cripple, her masther, and as like him as twopays. The minute the saint clapt his eyes on the goose, 'I'll do the jobfor you, ' says he, 'King O'Toole. ' 'By _Jaminee_!' says King O'Toole, 'if you do, but I'll say you're the cleverest fellow in the sivinparishes. ' 'Oh, by dad, ' says Saint Kavin, 'you must say more northat--my horn's not so soft all out, ' says he, 'as to repair your ouldgoose for nothin'; what'll you gi' me if I do the job for you?--that'sthe chat, ' says Saint Kavin. 'I'll give you whatever you ax, ' says theking; 'isn't that fair?' 'Divil a fairer, ' says the saint; 'that's theway to do business. Now, ' says he, 'this is the bargain I'll make withyou, King O'Toole: will you gi' me all the ground the goose flies over, the first offer, afther I make her as good as new?' 'I will, ' says theking, 'You won't go back o' your word?' says Saint Kavin. 'Honorbright!' says King O'Toole, howldin' out his fist. 'Honor bright!' saysSaint Kavin, back agin, 'it's a bargain. Come here!' says he to the poorould goose--'come here, you unfort'nate ould cripple, and it's I that'llmake you the sportin' bird. ' With that, my dear, he took up the goose bythe two wings--'Criss o' my crass and you, ' says he, markin' her tograce with the blessed sign at the same minute--and throwin' her up inthe air, 'whew, ' says he, jist givin' her a blast to help her; and withthat, my jewel, she tuk to her heels, flyin' like one o' the aiglesthemselves and cuttin' as many capers as a swallow before a shower ofrain. "Well, my dear, it was a beautiful sight to see the king standin' withhis mouth open, lookin' at his poor ould goose flyin' as light as alark, and betther nor ever she was: and when she lit at his fut, patterher an the head, and, '_Ma vourneen_, ' says he, 'but you are the_darlint_ o' the world. ' 'And what do you say to me, ' says Saint Kavin, 'for makin' her the like?' 'By gor, ' says the king, 'I say nothin' batesthe art o' man, barrin' the bees. ' 'And do you say no more nor that?'says Saint Kavin. 'And that I'm behoulden to you, ' says the king. 'Butwill you give me all the ground the goose flew over?' says Saint Kavin. 'I will, ' says King O'Toole, 'and you're welkim to it, ' says he, 'thoughit's the last acre I have to give. ' 'But you'll keep your word thrue?'says the saint. 'As thrue as the sun, ' says the king. 'It's well foryou, King O'Toole, that you said that word, ' says he; 'for if you didn'tsay that word, _the devil receave the bit o' your goose id ever flyagin_. ' "Whin the king was as good as his word, Saint Kavin was _plazed_ withhim, and thin it was that he made himself known to the king. 'And, ' sayshe, 'King O'Toole, you're a dacent man, for I only kem here to _thryyou_. You don't know me, ' says he, 'bekase I'm disguised. ' 'Musha!thin, ' says the king, 'who are you?' 'I'm Saint Kavin, ' said the Saint, blessin' himself. 'Oh, queen iv heaven!' says the king makin' the signo' the crass betune his eyes, and fallin' down on his knees before thesaint; 'is it the great Saint Kavin, ' says he, 'that I've beendiscoorsin' all this time without knowin' it, ' says he, 'all as one asif he was a lump iv a _gosson_?--and so you're a saint?' says the king. 'I am, ' says Saint Kavin. 'By gor, I thought I was only talking to adacent boy, ' says the king. 'Well, you know the differ now, ' says thesaint. 'I'm Saint Kavin, ' says he, 'the greatest of all the saints. ' "And so the king had his goose as good as new, to divart him as long ashe lived: and the saint supported him afther he kem into his property, as I tould you, until the day iv his death--and that was soon afther;for the poor goose thought he was ketchin' a throut one Friday; but, myjewel, it was a mistake he made--and instead of a throut, it was athievin' horse-eel; and by gor, instead iv the goose killin' a throutfor the king's supper, --by dad, the eel killed the king's goose--andsmall blame to him; but he didn't ate her, bekase he darn't ate whatSaint Kavin had laid his blessed hands on. " SECTION IV FAIRY STORIES--MODERN FANTASTIC TALES BIBLIOGRAPHY Alden, Raymond Macdonald, _Why the Chimes Rang, and Other Stories_. Andersen, Hans Christian, _Fairy Tales_. Barrie, Sir James Matthew, _The Little White Bird_. [Peter Pan. ] Baum, L. Frank, _The Wizard of Oz_. Benson, A. C. , _David Blaize and the Blue Door_. Beston, H. B. , _The Firelight Fairy Book_. Brown, Abbie Farwell, _The Lonesomest Doll_. Browne, Frances, _Granny's Wonderful Chair_. Carryl, Charles E. , _Davy and the Goblin_. "Carroll, Lewis, " _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_. "Carroll, Lewis, " _Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There_. Chamisso, Adelbert von, _The Wonderful History of Peter Schlemihl_. "Collodi, C. , " _The Adventures of Pinocchio_. Cox, Palmer, _The Brownies: Their Book_. Craik, Dinah Mulock, _Adventures of a Brownie_. Craik, Dinah Mulock, _The Little Lame Prince and His Traveling-Cloak_. Crothers, Samuel McChord, _Miss Muffet's Christmas Party_. Dickens, Charles, _A Christmas Carol_. Ewald, Carl, _Two-Legs, and Other Stories_. Grahame, Kenneth, _The Wind in the Willows_. Harris, Joel Chandler, _Nights with Uncle Remus_. Hawthorne, Nathaniel, "The Snow Image, " "Little Daffydowndilly, " "A Rill from the Town Pump. " Ingelow, Jean, _Mopsa the Fairy_. Ingelow, Jean, _Stories Told to a Child_. 2 vols. Jordan, David Starr, _The Book of Knight and Barbara_. Lagerlof, Selma, _The Wonderful Adventures of Nils_. La Motte-Fouqué, F. De, _Undine_. Lang, Andrew, _Prince Prigio_. Kingsley, Charles, _The Water Babies_. Maeterlinck, Maurice, _The Blue Bird_. Macdonald, George, _The Princess and the Goblin_. Macdonald, George, _At the Back of the North Wind_. Pyle, Katherine, _In the Green Forest_. Raspe, Rudolph Erich, _Baron Munchausen's Narrative_. Richards, Laura E. , _The Story of Toto_. Richards, Laura E. , _The Pig Brother_. Ruskin, John, _The King of the Golden River_. Stockton, Frank R. , _Fanciful Tales_. Swift, Jonathan, _Gulliver's Travels_. Thackeray, William Makepeace, _The Rose and the Ring_. Wilde, Oscar, _The Happy Prince, and Other Stories_. Wilkins, Mary E. , _The Pot of Gold_. SECTION IV: FAIRY STORIES--MODERN FANTASTIC TALES INTRODUCTORY The difficulties of classification are very apparent here, and once moreit must be noted that illustrative and practical purposes rather thanlogical ones are served by the arrangement adopted. The modern fancifulstory is here placed next to the real folk story instead of after allthe groups of folk products. The Hebrew stories at the beginning belongquite as well, perhaps even better, in Section V, while the stories atthe end of Section VI shade off into the more modern types of shorttales. Then the fact that other groups of modern stories are to followlater, illustrating more realistic studies of life and the very recentand remarkably numerous writings centering around animal life, limitsthe list here. Many of the animal stories might, with equal propriety, be placed under the head of the fantastic. _The child's natural literature. _ The world has lost certain secrets asthe price of an advancing civilization. It is a commonplace ofobservation that no one can duplicate the success of Mother Goose, whether she be thought of as the maker of jingles or the teller oftales. The conditions of modern life preclude the generally naïveattitude that produced the folk rhymes, ballads, tales, proverbs, fables, and myths. The folk saw things simply and directly. The complex, analytic, questioning mind is not yet, either in or out of stories. Themotives from which people act are to them plain and not mixed. Characters are good or bad. They feel no need of elaborately explainingtheir joys and sorrows. Such experiences come with the day's work. "To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new. " The zest of life with themis emphatic. Their humor is fresh, unbounded, sincere; there is no traceof cynicism. In folk literature we do not feel the presence of a"writer" who is mightily concerned about maintaining his reputation forwisdom, originality, or style. Hence the freedom from any note ofstraining after effect, of artificiality. In the midst of a life limitedto fundamental needs, their literature deals with fundamentals. On thewhole, it was a literature for entertainment. A more learned upper classmay have concerned itself then about "problems" and "purposes, " as thewhole world does now, but the literature of the folk had no suchinterests. Without discussing the limits of the culture-epoch theory of humandevelopment as a complete guide in education, it is clear that the youngchild passes through a period when his mind looks out upon the world ina manner analogous to that of the folk as expressed in their literature. Quarrel with the fact as we may, it still remains a fact that his naturecraves these old stories and will not be satisfied with something "justas good. " _The modern fairy story. _ The advance of civilization has beenaccompanied by a wistful longing for the simplicities left by the way. In some periods this interest in the past has been more marked than inothers. When the machinery of life has weighed too heavily on the humanspirit, men have turned for relief to a contemplation of the "good oldtimes" and have preached crusades of a "return to nature. " Many modernwriters have tried to recapture some of the power of the folk tale byimitating its method. In many cases they have had a fair degree ofsuccess: in one case, that of Hans Christian Andersen, the success isadmittedly very complete. As a rule, however, the sharpness of the senseof wonder has been blunted, and many imitators of the old fairy talesucceed in keeping only the shell. Another class of modern fantastictale is that of the _pourquoi_ story, which has the explanation ofsomething as its object. Such tales grow out of the attempt to use thecharm of old stories as a means of conveying instruction, somewhat afterthe method of those parents who covered up our bitter medicine with someof our favorite jam. Even "Little Red Riding Hood, " as we saw, has beenturned into a flower myth. So compelling is this pedagogical motive thatso-called nature myths have been invented or made from existing storiesin great numbers. The practical results please many teachers, but it maybe questioned whether the gain is sufficient to compensate children forthe distorting results upon masterpieces. _Wide range of the modern fairy tale. _ The bibliography will suggestsomething of the treasures in the field of the modern fanciful story. From the delightful nonsense of _Alice in Wonderland_ and the"travelers' tales" of _Baron Munchausen_ to the profound seriousness of_The King of the Golden River_ and _Why the Chimes Rang_ is a far cry. There are the rich fancies of Barrie and Maeterlinck, at the same timedelicate as the promises of spring and brilliant as the fruitions ofsummer. One may be blown away to the land of Oz, he may lose his shadowwith Peter Schlemihl, he may outdo the magic carpet with hisTraveling-Cloak, he may visit the courts of kings with his WonderfulChair; Miss Muffet will invite us to her Christmas party, LemuelGulliver will lead us to lands not marked in the school atlas; on everyside is a world of wonder. _Some qualities of these modern tales. _ Every age produces after its ownfashion, and we must expect to find the modern user of the fairy-storymethod expressing through it the qualities of his own outlook upon theworld. Interest in the picturesque aspects of landscape will beemphasized, as in the early portions of "The Story of Fairyfoot" and, with especial magnificence of style, throughout _The King of the GoldenRiver_. There will appear the saddened mood of the modern in the face ofthe human miseries that make happiness a mockery, as in "The HappyPrince. " The destructive effects of the possessive instinct upon allthat is finest in human nature is reflected in "The Prince's Dream. "That the most valuable efforts are often those performed with leastspectacular settings may be discerned in "The Knights of the SilverShield, " while the lesson of kindly helpfulness is the burden of "OldPipes and the Dryad. " In many modern stories the reader is too muchaware of the conscious efforts of style and structure. The thoughtfulchild will sometimes be too much distressed by the more somber modernstory, and should not hear too many of the gloomy type. _Andersen the consummate master. _ Hans Christian Andersen is theacknowledged master of the modern story for children. What are thesources of his success? Genius is always unexplainable except in termsof itself, but some things are clear. To begin, he makes a mark--drivesdown a peg: "There came a soldier marching along the high road--_one, two! one, two!_" and you are off. No backing and filling, no jockeyingfor position, no elaborate setting of the stage. The story's the thing!Next, the language is the language of common oral speech, free andunrestrained. The rigid forms of the grammar are eschewed. There is nobeating around the bush. Seeing through the eyes of the child, he usesthe language that is natural to such sight: "Aha! there sat the dog witheyes as big as mill-wheels. " In quick dramatic fashion the story unrollsbefore your vision: "So the soldier cut the witch's head off. There shelay!" No agonizing over the cruelty of it, the lack of sympathy. It is ajoke after the child's own heart, and with a hearty laugh at this end toan impostor, the listener is on with the story. The logic is the logicof childhood: "And everyone could see she was a real princess, for shewas so lovely. " When Andersen deals with some of the deeper truths ofexistence, as in "The Nightingale" or "The Ugly Duckling, " he stillmanages to throw it all into the form that is natural and convincing andsimple to the child. He never mounts a pedestal and becomes a grown-upphilosopher. Perhaps Andersen's secret lay in the fact that some fairygodmother invested him at birth with a power to see things so completelyas a child sees them that he never questioned the dignity of the method. In few of his stories is there any evidence of a constraint due to aconscious attempt to write down to the understandings of children. SUGGESTIONS FOR READING The most valuable discussion of the difficulties to be mastered in writing the literary fairy tale, and the story of the only very complete mastery yet made, will be found in the account of Hans Christian Andersen in _Eminent Authors of the Nineteenth Century_, by Georg Brandes. Now and then hints of importance on such stories and their value for children may be found in biographies of the more prominent writers represented in the section and mentioned in the bibliography, and in magazine articles and reviews. These latter may be located by use of the periodical indexes found in most libraries. For the proper attitude which the schools should have toward fiction and fanciful writing in general, nothing could be better than two lectures on "Children's Reading, " in _On the Art of Reading_, by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch. 190 The rabbis of old were good story-tellers. They were essentially teachers and they understood that the best sermon is a story. "They were fond of the parable, the anecdote, the apt illustration, and their legends that have been transmitted to us, all aglow with the light and life of the Orient, possess perennial charm. " It is possible to find in rabbinical sources a large number of brief stories that have the power of entertaining as well as of emphasizing some qualities of character that are important in all ages. The plan of this book does not include the wonderful stories of the Old Testament, which are easy of access to any teacher and may be used as experience directs. The Hebrew stories following correspond very nearly to the folk anecdote and are placed in this section because of their literary form. Dr. Abram S. Isaacs (1851--) is a professor in New York University and is also a rabbi. The selection that follows is from his _Stories from the Rabbis_. (Copyrighted. Used by special permission of The Bloch Publishing Company, New York. ) Taking advantage of the popular superstition that a four-leaved clover is a sign of good luck, Dr. Isaacs has grouped together four parable-like stories, each of which deals with wealth as a subject. The editors are responsible for the special titles given. The messages of these stories might be summarized as follows: If you would be lucky, (1) be honest because it is right to be honest, (2) value good friends more highly than gold, (3) let love accompany each gift of charity, and (4) use common sense in your business ventures. A FOUR-LEAVED CLOVER ABRAM S. ISAACS 1. THE RABBI AND THE DIADEM Great was the alarm in the palace of Rome, which soon spread throughoutthe entire city. The Empress had lost her costly diadem, and it couldnot be found. They searched in every direction, but it was all in vain. Half distracted, for the mishap boded no good to her or her house, theEmpress redoubled her exertions to regain her precious possession, butwithout result. As a last resource it was proclaimed in the publicstreets: "The Empress has lost a priceless diadem. Whoever restores it withinthirty days shall receive a princely reward. But he who delays, andbrings it after thirty days, shall lose his head. " In those times all nationalities flocked toward Rome; all classes andcreeds could be met in its stately halls and crowded thoroughfares. Among the rest was a rabbi, a learnèd sage from the East, who lovedgoodness and lived a righteous life, in the stir and turmoil of theWestern world. It chanced one night as he was strolling up and down, inbusy meditation, beneath the clear, moonlit sky, he saw the diademsparkling at his feet. He seized it quickly, brought it to his dwelling, where he guarded it carefully until the thirty days had expired, when heresolved to return it to the owner. He proceeded to the palace, and, undismayed at sight of long lines ofsoldiery and officials, asked for an audience with the Empress. "What dost thou mean by this?" she inquired, when he told her his storyand gave her the diadem. "Why didst thou delay until this hour? Dostthou know the penalty? Thy head must be forfeited. " "I delayed until now, " the rabbi answered calmly, "so that thou mightstknow that I return thy diadem, not for the sake of the reward, stillless out of fear of punishment; but solely to comply with the Divinecommand not to withhold from another the property which belongs to him. " "Blessed be thy God!" the Empress answered, and dismissed the rabbiwithout further reproof; for had he not done right for right's sake? 2. FRIENDSHIP A certain father was doubly blessed--he had reached a good old age, andhad ten sons. One day he called them to his side, and after repeatedexpressions of affection, told them that he had acquired a fortune byindustry and economy, and would give them one hundred gold pieces eachbefore his death, so that they might begin business for themselves, andnot be obliged to wait until he had passed away. It happened, however, that, soon after, he lost a portion of his property, much to his regret, and had only nine hundred and fifty gold pieces left. So he gave onehundred to each of his nine sons. When his youngest son, whom he lovedmost of all, asked naturally what was to be his share, the fatherreplied: "My son, I promised to give each of thy brothers one hundred goldpieces. I shall keep my word to them. I have fifty left. Thirty I shallreserve for my funeral expenses, and twenty will be thy portion. Butunderstand this--I possess, in addition, ten friends, whom I give overto thee as compensation for the loss of the eighty gold pieces. Believeme, they are worth more than all the gold and silver. " The youth tenderly embraced his parent, and assured him that he wascontent, such was his confidence and affection. In a few days the fatherdied, and the nine sons took their money, and without a thought of theiryoungest brother and the small amount he had received, followed each hisown fancy. But the youngest son, although his portion was the least, resolved to heed his father's words, and hold fast to the ten friends. When a short time had elapsed he prepared a simple feast, went to theten friends of his father, and said to them: "My father, almost in hislast words, asked me to keep you, his friends, in honor. Before I leavethis place to seek my fortune elsewhere, will you not share with me afarewell meal, and aid me thus to comply with his dying request?" The ten friends, stirred by his earnestness and cordiality, accepted hisinvitation with pleasure, and enjoyed the repast, although they wereused to richer fare. When the moment for parting arrived, however, oneof them rose and spoke: "My friends, it seems to me that of all the sonsof our dear friend that has gone, the youngest alone is mindful of hisfather's friendship for us, and reverences his memory. Let us, then, betrue friends to him, for his own sake as well, and provide for him agenerous sum, that he may begin business here, and not be forced to liveamong strangers. " The proposal, so unexpected and yet so merited, was received withapplause. The youth, proud of their friendship, soon became a prosperousmerchant, who never forgot that faithful friends were more valuable thangold or silver, and left an honored name to his descendants. 3. TRUE CHARITY There lived once a very wealthy man, who cared little for money, exceptas a means for helping others. He used to adopt a peculiar plan in hismethod of charitable relief. He had three boxes made for the threedifferent classes of people whom he desired to assist. In one box he putgold pieces, which he distributed among artists and scholars, for hehonored knowledge and learning as the highest possession. In the secondbox he placed silver pieces for widows and orphans, for whom hissympathies were readily awakened. In the third were copper coins for thegeneral poor and beggars--no one was turned away from his dwellingwithout some gift, however small. That the man was beloved by all, need hardly be said. He rejoiced thathe was enabled to do so much good, retained his modest bearing, andcontinued to regard his wealth as only an incentive to promote thehappiness of mankind, without distinction of creed or nationality. Unhappily, his wife was just the opposite. She rarely gave food orraiment to the poor, and felt angry at her husband's liberality, whichshe considered shameless extravagance. The day came when in the pressure of various duties he had to leave hishouse, and could not return until the morrow. Unaware of his suddendeparture, the poor knocked at the door as usual for his kind gifts; butwhen they found him absent, they were about to go away or remain in thestreet, being terrified at the thought of asking his wife for alms. Vexed at their conduct, she exclaimed impetuously: "I will give to thepoor according to my husband's method. " She seized the keys of the boxes, and first opened the box of gold. Buthow great was her terror when she gazed at its contents--frogs jumpinghere and there. Then she went to the silver box, and it was full ofants. With troubled heart, she opened the copper box, and it was crowdedwith creeping bugs. Loud then were her complaints, and bitter her tears, at the deception, and she kept her room until her husband returned. No sooner did the man enter the room, annoyed that so many poor peoplewere kept waiting outside, than she asked him: "Why did you give me keysto boxes of frogs, ants, and bugs, instead of gold, silver, and copper?Was it right thus to deceive your wife, and disappoint the poor?" "Not so, " rejoined her husband. "The mistake must be yours, not mine. Ihave given you the right keys. I do not know what you have done withthem. Come, let me have them. I am guiltless of any deception. " He tookthe keys, quickly opened the boxes, and found the coins as he had leftthem. "Ah, dear wife, " said he, when she had regained her composure, "your heart, I fear, was not in the gift, when you wished to give to thepoor. It is the feeling that prompts us to aid, not the mere money, which is the chief thing after all. " And ever after, her heart was changed. Her gifts blessed the poor of theland, and aroused their love and reverence. 4. AN EASTERN GARDEN In an Eastern city a lovely garden flourished, whose beauty andluxuriance awakened much admiration. It was the owner's greatestpleasure to watch its growth, as leaf, flower, and tree seemed daily tounfold to brighter bloom. One morning, while taking his usual strollthrough the well-kept paths, he was surprised to find that someblossoms were picked to pieces. The next day he noticed more signs ofmischief, and rendered thus more observant he gave himself no rest untilhe had discovered the culprit. It was a little trembling bird, whom hemanaged to capture, and was about to kill in his anger, when itexclaimed: "Do not kill me, I beg you, kind sir. I am only a wee, tinybird. My flesh is too little to satisfy you. I would not furnishone-hundredth of a meal to a man of your size. Let me free without anyhesitation, and I shall teach you something that will be of much use toyou and your friends. " "I would dearly like to put an end to you, " replied the man, "for youwere rapidly putting an end to my garden. It is a good thing to rid theworld of such annoyances. But as I am not revengeful, and am always gladto learn something useful, I shall set you free this time. " And heopened his hand to give the bird more air. "Attention!" cried the bird. "Here are three rules which should guideyou through life, and if you observe them you will find your path madeeasier: Do not cry over spilt milk; do not desire what is unattainable, and do not believe what is impossible. " The man was satisfied with the advice, and let the bird escape; but ithad scarcely regained its liberty, when, from a high tree opposite, itexclaimed: "What a silly man! The idea of letting me escape! If you only knew whatyou have lost! But it is too late now. " "What have I lost?" the man asked, angrily. "Why, if you had killed me, as you intended, you would have found insideof me a huge pearl, as large as a goose's egg, and you would have been awealthy man forever. " "Dear little bird, " the man said in his blandest tones; "sweet littlebird, I will not harm you. Only come down to me, and I will treat you asif you were my own child, and give you fruit and flowers all day. Iassure you of this most sacredly. " But the bird shook its head sagely, and replied: "What a silly man, toforget so soon the advice which was given him in all seriousness. I toldyou not to cry over spilt milk, and here you are, worrying over what hashappened. I urged you not to desire the unattainable, and now you wishto capture me again. And, finally, I asked you not to believe what isimpossible, and you are rashly imagining that I have a huge pearl insideof me, when a goose's egg is larger than my whole body. You ought tolearn your lessons better in the future, if you would become wise, "added the bird, as with another twist of its head it flew away, and waslost in the distance. 191 A classic collection of short stories from the ancient Hebrew sages is the little book, _Hebrew Tales_, published in London in 1826 by the noted Jewish scholar Hyman Hurwitz (1770-1844). A modern handy edition of this book (about sixty tales) is published as Vol. II of the Library of Jewish Classics. Of special interest is the fact that it contained three stories by the poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge, who had published them first in his periodical, _The Friend_. Coleridge was much interested in Hebrew literature, and especially fond of speaking in parables, as those who know "The Ancient Mariner" will readily recall. The following is one of the three stories referred to, and it had prefixed to it the significant text, "The Lord helpeth man and beast. " (Psalm XXXVI, 6. ) THE LORD HELPETH MAN AND BEAST SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE During his march to conquer the world, Alexander, the Macedonian, cameto a people in Africa who dwelt in a remote and secluded corner, inpeaceful huts, and knew neither war nor conqueror. They led him to thehut of their chief, who received him hospitably, and placed before himgolden dates, golden figs, and bread of gold. "Do you eat gold in this country?" said Alexander. "I take it for granted, " replied the chief, "that thou wert able to findeatable food in thine own country. For what reason, then, art thou comeamongst us?" "Your gold has not tempted me hither, " said Alexander, "but I wouldbecome acquainted with your manners and customs. " "So be it, " rejoined the other: "sojourn among us as long as it pleaseththee. " At the close of this conversation, two citizens entered, as into theircourt of justice. The plaintiff said, "I bought of this man a piece ofland, and as I was making a deep drain through it, I found a treasure. This is not mine, for I only bargained for the land, and not for anytreasure that might be concealed beneath it; and yet the former owner ofthe land will not receive it. " The defendant answered, "I hope I have aconscience, as well as my fellow citizen. I sold him the land with allits contingent, as well as existing advantages, and consequently, thetreasure inclusively. " The chief, who was at the same time their supreme judge, recapitulatedtheir words, in order that the parties might see whether or not heunderstood them aright. Then, after some reflection, said: "Thou hast ason, friend, I believe?" "Yes. " "And thou, " addressing the other, "a daughter?" "Yes. " "Well, then, let thy son marry _thy_ daughter, and bestow the treasureon the young couple for a marriage portion. " Alexander seemed surprisedand perplexed. "Think you my sentence unjust?" the chief asked him. "Oh, no!" replied Alexander; "but it astonishes me. " "And how, then, " rejoined the chief, "would the case have been decidedin your country?" "To confess the truth, " said Alexander, "we should have taken bothparties into custody, and have seized the treasure for the king's use. " "For the king's use!" exclaimed the chief; "does the sun shine on thatcountry?" "Oh, yes!" "Does it rain there?" "Assuredly. " "Wonderful! But are there tame animals in the country, that live on thegrass and green herbs?" "Very many, and of many kinds. " "Ay, that must, then, be the cause, " said the chief: "for the sake ofthose innocent animals the All-gracious Being continues to let the sunshine, and the rain drop down on your country; since its inhabitants areunworthy of such blessings. " 192 By almost common consent Hans Christian Andersen (1805-1875), the Danish author, is the acknowledged master of all modern writers of fairy tales. He was born in poverty, the son of a poor shoemaker. With a naturally keen dramatic sense, his imagination was stirred by stories from the _Arabian Nights_ and La Fontaine's _Fables_, by French and Spanish soldiers marching through his native city, and by listening to the wonderful folk tales of his country. On a toy stage and with toy actors, these vivid impressions took actual form. The world continued a dramatic spectacle to him throughout his existence. His consuming ambition was for the stage, but he had none of the personal graces so necessary for success. He was ungainly and awkward, like his "ugly duckling. " But when at last he began to write, he had the power to transfer to the page the vivid dramas in his mind, and this power culminated in the creation of fairy stories for children which he began to publish in 1835. It is usual to say that Andersen, like Peter Pan, "never grew up, " and it is certain that he never lost the power of seeing things as children see them. Like many great writers whose fame now rests on the suffrages of child readers, Andersen seems at first to have felt that the _Tales_ were slight and beneath his dignity. They are not all of the same high quality. Occasionally one of them becomes "too sentimental and sickly sweet, " but the best of them have a sturdiness that is thoroughly refreshing. The most acute analysis of the elements of Andersen's greatness as the ideal writer for children is that made by his fellow-countryman Georg Brandes in _Eminent Authors of the Nineteenth Century_. A briefer account on similar lines will be found in H. J. Boyesen's _Scandinavian Literature_. A still briefer account, eminently satisfactory for an introduction to Andersen, by Benjamin W. Wells, is in Warner's _Library of the World's Best Literature_. The interested student cannot, of course, afford to neglect Andersen's own _The Story of My Life_. Among the more elaborate biographies the _Life of Hans Christian Andersen_ by R. Nisbet Bain is probably the best. The first translation of the _Tales_ into English was made by Mary Howitt in 1846 and, as far as it goes, is still regarded as one of the finest. However, Andersen has been very fortunate in his many translators. The version by H. W. Dulcken has been published in many cheap forms and perhaps more widely read than any other. In addition to the stories in the following pages, some of those most suitable for use are "The Little Match Girl, " "The Silver Shilling, " "Five Peas in the Pod, " "Hans Clodhopper, " and "The Snow Queen. " The latter is one of the longest and an undoubted masterpiece. The first two stories following are taken from Mrs. Henderson's _Andersen's Best Fairy Tales_. (Copyright. Rand McNally & Co. ) This little book contains thirteen stories in a very simple translation and also an excellent story of Andersen's life in a form most attractive to children. "The Princess and the Pea" is a story for the story's sake. The humor, perhaps slightly satirical, is based upon the notion so common in the old folk tales that royal personages are decidedly more delicate than the person of low degree. However, the tendency to think oneself of more consequence than another is not confined to any one class. THE REAL PRINCESS HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN (Version by Alice Corbin Henderson) There was once a Prince who wanted to marry a Princess. But it was onlya _real_ Princess that he wanted to marry. He traveled all over the world to find a real one. But, although therewere plenty of princesses, whether they were _real_ princesses he couldnever discover. There was always something that did not seem quite rightabout them. At last he had to come home again. But he was very sad, because hewanted to marry a _real_ Princess. One night there was a terrible storm. It thundered and lightened and therain poured down in torrents. In the middle of the storm there came aknocking, knocking, knocking at the castle gate. The kind old Kinghimself went down to open the castle gate. It was a young Princess that stood outside the gate. The wind and therain had almost blown her to pieces. Water streamed out of her hair andout of her clothes. Water ran in at the points of her shoes and outagain at the heels. Yet she said that she was a _real_ Princess. "Well, we will soon find out about that!" thought the Queen. She said nothing, but went into the bedroom, took off all the bedding, and put a small dried pea on the bottom of the bedstead. Then she piledtwenty mattresses on top of the pea, and on top of these she put twentyfeather beds. This was where the Princess had to sleep that night. In the morning they asked her how she had slept through the night. "Oh, miserably!" said the Princess. "I hardly closed my eyes the wholenight long! Goodness only knows what was in my bed! I slept uponsomething so hard that I am black and blue all over. It was dreadful!" So then they knew that she was a _real_ Princess. For, through thetwenty mattresses and the twenty feather beds, she had still felt thepea. No one but a _real_ Princess could have had such a tender skin. So the Prince took her for his wife. He knew now that he had a _real_Princess. As for the pea, it was put in a museum where it may still be seen if noone has carried it away. Now this is a true story! 193 With some dozen exceptions, all of Andersen's _Tales_ are based upon older stories, either upon some old folk tale or upon something that he ran across in his reading. Dr. Brandes, in his _Eminent Authors_, shows in detail how "The Emperor's New Clothes" came into being. "One day in turning over the leaves of Don Manuel's _Count Lucanor_, Andersen became charmed by the homely wisdom of the old Spanish story, with the delicate flavor of the Middle Ages pervading it, and he lingered over chapter vii, which treats of how a king was served by three rogues. " But Andersen's story is a very different one in many ways from his Spanish original. For one thing, the meaning is so universal that no one can miss it. Most of us have, in all likelihood, at some time pretended to know what we do not know or to be what we are not in order to save our face, to avoid the censure or ridicule of others. "There is much concerning which people dare not speak the truth, through cowardice, through fear of acting otherwise than 'all the world, ' through anxiety lest they should appear stupid. And the story is eternally new and it never ends. It has its grave side, but just because of its endlessness it has also its humorous side. " When the absurd bubble of the grand procession is punctured by the child, whose mental honesty has not yet been spoiled by the pressure of convention, the Emperor "held himself stiffer than ever, and the chamberlains carried the invisible train. " For it would never do to hold up the procession! THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN (Version by Alice Corbin Henderson) Many years ago there lived an Emperor who thought so much of new clothesthat he spent all his money on them. He did not care for his soldiers;he did not care to go to the theater. He liked to drive out in the parkonly that he might show off his new clothes. He had a coat for everyhour of the day. They usually say of a king, "He is in the councilchamber. " But of the Emperor they said, "He is in the clothes closet!" It was a gay city in which the Emperor lived. And many strangers came tovisit it every day. Among these, one day, there came two rogues who setthemselves up as weavers. They said they knew how to weave the mostbeautiful cloths imaginable. And not only were the colors and patternsused remarkably beautiful, but clothes made from this cloth could not beseen by any one who was unfit for the office he held or was too stupidfor any use. "Those would be fine clothes!" thought the Emperor. "If I wore those Icould find out what men in my empire were not fit for the places theyheld. I could tell the clever men from the dunces! I must have someclothes woven for me at once!" So he gave the two rogues a great deal of money that they might begintheir work at once. The rogues immediately put up two looms and pretended to be working. Butthere was nothing at all on their looms. They called for the finestsilks and the brightest gold, but this they put into their pockets. Atthe empty looms they worked steadily until late into the night. "I should like to know how the weavers are getting on with my clothes, "thought the Emperor. But he felt a little uneasy when he thought that any one who was stupidor was not fit for his office would be unable to see the cloth. Ofcourse he had no fears for himself; but still he thought he would sendsome one else first, just to see how matters stood. "I will send my faithful old Minister to the weavers, " thought theEmperor. "He can see how the stuff looks, for he is a clever man, and noone is so careful in fulfilling duties as he is!" So the good old Minister went into the room where the two rogues satworking at the empty looms. "Mercy on us!" thought the old Minister, opening his eyes wide, "I can'tsee a thing!" But he didn't care to say so. Both the rascals begged him to be good enough to step a little nearer. They pointed to the empty looms and asked him if he did not think thepattern and the coloring wonderful. The poor old Minister stared andstared as hard as he could, but he could not see anything, for, ofcourse, there was nothing to see! "Mercy!" he said to himself. "Is it possible that I am a dunce? I neverthought so! Certainly no one must know it. Am I unfit for office? Itwill never do to say that I cannot see the stuff!" "Well, sir, why do you say nothing of it?" asked the rogue who waspretending to weave. "Oh, it is beautiful--charming!" said the old Minister, peering throughhis spectacles. "What a fine pattern, and what wonderful colors! I shalltell the Emperor that I am very much pleased with it. " "Well, we are glad to hear you say so, " answered the two swindlers. Then they named all the colors of the invisible cloth upon the looms, and described the peculiar pattern. The old Minister listened intently, so that he could repeat all that was said of it to the Emperor. The rogues now began to demand more money, more silk, and more goldthread in order to proceed with the weaving. All of this, of course, went into their pockets. Not a single strand was ever put on the emptylooms at which they went on working. The Emperor soon sent another faithful friend to see how soon the newclothes would be ready. But he fared no better than the Minister. Helooked and looked and looked, but still saw nothing but the empty looms. "Isn't that a pretty piece of stuff?" asked both rogues, showing andexplaining the handsome pattern which was not there at all. "I am not stupid!" thought the man. "It must be that I am not worthy ofmy good position. That is, indeed, strange. But I must not let it beknown!" So he praised the cloth he did not see, and expressed his approval ofthe color and the design that were not there. To the Emperor he said, "It is charming!" Soon everybody in town was talking about the wonderful cloth that thetwo rogues were weaving. The Emperor began to think now that he himself would like to see thewonderful cloth while it was still on the looms. Accompanied by a numberof his friends, among whom were the two faithful officers who hadalready beheld the imaginary stuff, he went to visit the two men whowere weaving, might and main, without any fiber and without any thread. "Isn't it splendid!" cried the two statesmen who had already been there, and who thought the others would see something upon the empty looms. "Look, your Majesty! What colors! And what a design!" "What's this?" thought the Emperor. "I see nothing at all! Am I a dunce?Am I not fit to be Emperor? That would be the worst thing that couldhappen to me, if it were true. " "Oh, it is very pretty!" said the Emperor aloud. "It has my highestapproval!" He nodded his head happily, and stared at the empty looms. Never wouldhe say that he could see nothing! His friends, too, gazed and gazed, but saw no more than had the others. Yet they all cried out, "It is beautiful!" and advised the Emperor towear a suit made of this cloth in a great procession that was soon totake place. "It is magnificent, gorgeous!" was the cry that went from mouth tomouth. The Emperor gave each of the rogues a royal ribbon to wear in hisbuttonhole, and called them the Imperial Court Weavers. The rogues were up the whole night before the morning of the procession. They kept more than sixteen candles burning. The people could see themhard at work, completing the new clothes of the Emperor. They took yardsof stuff down from the empty looms; they made cuts in the air with bigscissors; they sewed with needles without thread; and, at last, theysaid, "The clothes are ready!" The Emperor himself, with his grandest courtiers, went to put on his newsuit. "See!" said the rogues, lifting their arms as if holding something. "Here are the trousers! Here is the coat! Here is the cape!" and so on. "It is as light as a spider's web. One might think one had nothing on. But that is just the beauty of it!" "Very nice, " said the courtiers. But they could see nothing; for there_was_ nothing! "Will your Imperial Majesty be graciously pleased to take off yourclothes, " asked the rogues, "so that we may put on the new ones beforethis long mirror?" The Emperor took off all his own clothes, and the two rogues pretendedto put on each new garment as it was ready. They wrapped him about, andthey tied and they buttoned. The Emperor turned round and round beforethe mirror. "How well his Majesty looks in his new clothes!" said the people. "Howbecoming they are! What a pattern! What colors! It is a beautifuldress!" "They are waiting outside with the canopy which is to be carried overyour Majesty in the procession, " said the master of ceremonies. "I am ready, " said the Emperor. "Don't the clothes fit well?" he asked, giving a last glance into the mirror as though he were looking at allhis new finery. The men who were to carry the train of the Emperor's cloak stooped downto the floor as if picking up the train, and then held it high in theair. They did not dare let it be known that they could see nothing. So the Emperor marched along under the bright canopy. Everybody in thestreets and at the windows cried out: "How beautiful the Emperor's newclothes are! What a fine train! And they fit to perfection!" No one would let it be known that he could see nothing, for that wouldhave proved that he was unfit for office or that he was very, verystupid. None of the Emperor's clothes had ever been as successful asthese. "But he has nothing on!" said a little child. "Just listen to the innocent!" said its father. But one person whispered to another what the child had said. "He hasnothing on! A child says he has nothing on!" "But he has nothing on!" at last cried all the people. The Emperor writhed, for he knew that this was true. But he realizedthat it would never do to stop the procession. So he held himselfstiffer than ever, and the chamberlains carried the invisible train. 194 In his story "The Nightingale, " Andersen suggests that the so-called upper class of society may become so conventionalized as to be unable to appreciate true beauty. Poor fishermen and the little kitchen girl in the story recognize the beauty of the exquisite song of the nightingale, and Andersen shows his regard for royalty by having the emperor appreciate it twice. The last part of the story is especially impressive. When Death approached the emperor and took from him the symbols that had made him rank above his fellows, the emperor saw the realities of life and again perceived the beauty of the nightingale's song. This contact with real life made Death shrink away. Then the emperor learned Andersen's message to artificial society: If you would behold true beauty, you must have it in your own heart. THE NIGHTINGALE HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN In China, you must know, the Emperor is a Chinaman, and all whom he hasabout him are Chinamen too. It happened a good many years ago, butthat's just why it's worth while to hear the story before it isforgotten. The Emperor's palace was the most splendid in the world; itwas made entirely of porcelain, very costly, but so delicate and brittlethat one had to take care how one touched it. In the garden were to beseen the most wonderful flowers, and to the costliest of them silverbells were tied, which sounded, so that nobody should pass by withoutnoticing the flowers. Yes, everything in the Emperor's garden wasadmirably arranged. And it extended so far that the gardener himself didnot know where the end was. If a man went on and on, he came into aglorious forest with high trees and deep lakes. The wood extendedstraight down to the sea, which was blue and deep; great ships couldsail, too, beneath the branches of the trees; and in the trees lived aNightingale, which sang so splendidly that even the poor fisherman, whohad many other things to do, stopped still and listened, when he hadgone out at night to throw out his nets, and heard the Nightingale. "How beautiful that is!" he said; but he was obliged to attend to hisproperty, and thus forgot the bird. But when the next night the birdsang again, and the fisherman heard it, he exclaimed again, "Howbeautiful that is!" From all the countries of the world travelers came to the city of theEmperor, and admired it, and the palace and the garden, but when theyheard the Nightingale, they said, "That is the best of all!" And the travelers told of it when they came home; and the learnèd menwrote many books about the town, the palace, and the garden. But theydid not forget the Nightingale; that was placed highest of all; andthose who were poets wrote most magnificent poems about the Nightingalein the wood by the deep lake. The books went through all the world, and a few of them once came to theEmperor. He sat in his golden chair, and read, and read: every moment henodded his head, for it pleased him to peruse the masterly descriptionsof the city, the palace, and the garden. "But the Nightingale is thebest of all, " it stood written there. "What's that?" exclaimed the Emperor. "I don't know the Nightingale atall! Is there such a bird in my empire, and even in my garden? I'venever heard of that. To think that I should have to learn such a thingfor the first time from books!" And hereupon he called his cavalier. This cavalier was so grand that ifanyone lower in rank than himself dared to speak to him, or to ask himany question, he answered nothing but "P!"--and that meant nothing. "There is said to be a wonderful bird here called a Nightingale, " saidthe Emperor. "They say it is the best thing in all my great empire. Whyhave I never heard anything about it?" "I have never heard him named, " replied the cavalier. "He has never beenintroduced at Court. " "I command that he shall appear this evening, and sing before me, " saidthe Emperor. "All the world knows what I possess, and I do not know itmyself!" "I have never heard him mentioned, " said the cavalier. "I will seek forhim. I will find him. " But where was he to be found? The cavalier ran up and down all thestaircases, through halls and passages, but no one among all those whomhe met had heard talk of the Nightingale. And the cavalier ran back tothe Emperor, and said that it must be a fable invented by the writers ofbooks. "Your Imperial Majesty cannot believe how much is written that isfiction, besides something that they call the black art. " "But the book in which I read this, " said the Emperor, "was sent to meby the high and mighty Emperor of Japan and therefore it cannot be afalsehood. I _will_ hear the Nightingale! It must be here this evening!It has my imperial favor; and if it does not come, all the Court shallbe trampled upon after the Court has supped!" "Tsing-pe!" said the cavalier; and again he ran up and down all thestaircases, and through all the halls and corridors; and half the Courtran with him, for the courtiers did not like being trampled upon. Then there was a great inquiry after the wonderful Nightingale, whichall the world knew excepting the people at Court. At last they met with a poor little girl in the kitchen, who said: "The Nightingale? I know it well; yes, it can sing gloriously. Everyevening I get leave to carry my poor sick mother the scraps from thetable. She lives down by the strand; and when I get back and am tired, and rest in the wood, then I hear the Nightingale sing. And then thewater comes into my eyes, and it is just as if my mother kissed me. " "Little kitchen girl, " said the cavalier, "I will get you a place in theCourt kitchen, with permission to see the Emperor dine, if you will butlead us to the Nightingale, for it is announced for this evening. " So they all went out into the wood where the Nightingale was accustomedto sing; half the Court went forth. When they were in the midst of theirjourney a cow began to low. "Oh!" cried the Court pages, "now we have it! That shows a wonderfulpower in so small a creature! I have certainly heard it before. " "No, those are cows lowing, " said the little kitchen girl. "We are along way from the place yet. " Now the frogs began to croak in the marsh. "Glorious!" said the Chinese Court preacher. "Now I hear it--it soundsjust like little church bells. " "No, those are frogs, " said the little kitchen maid. "But now I think weshall soon hear it. " And then the Nightingale began to sing. "That is it!" exclaimed the little girl. "Listen, listen! and yonder itsits. " And she pointed to a little gray bird up in the boughs. "Is it possible?" cried the cavalier. "I should never have thought itlooked like that! How simple it looks! It must certainly have lost itscolor at seeing such grand people around. " "Little Nightingale!" called the little kitchen maid, quite loudly, "ourgracious Emperor wishes you to sing before him. " "With the greatest pleasure!" replied the Nightingale, and began to singmost delightfully. "It sounds just like glass bells!" said the cavalier. "And look at itslittle throat, how it's working! It's wonderful that we should neverhave heard it before. That bird will be a great success at Court. " "Shall I sing once more before the Emperor?" inquired the Nightingale, for it thought the Emperor was present. "My excellent little Nightingale, " said the cavalier, "I have greatpleasure in inviting you to a Court festival this evening, when youshall charm his Imperial Majesty with your beautiful singing. " "My song sounds best in the green wood, " replied the Nightingale; stillit came willingly when it heard what the Emperor wished. The palace was festively adorned. The walls and the flooring, which wereof porcelain, gleamed in the rays of thousands of golden lamps. The mostglorious flowers, which could ring clearly, had been placed in thepassages. There was a running to and fro, and a thorough draught, andall the bells rang so loudly that one could not hear one's self speak. In the midst of the great hall, where the Emperor sat, a golden perchhad been placed, on which the Nightingale was to sit. The whole Courtwas there, and the little cook-maid had got leave to stand behind thedoor, as she had now received the title of a real Court cook. All werein full dress, and all looked at the little gray bird, to which theEmperor nodded. And the Nightingale sang so gloriously that the tears came into theEmperor's eyes, and the tears ran down over his cheeks; then theNightingale sang still more sweetly, that went straight to the heart. The Emperor was so much pleased that he said the Nightingale should havehis golden slipper to wear round its neck. But the Nightingale declinedthis with thanks, saying it had already received a sufficient reward. "I have seen tears in the Emperor's eyes--that is the real treasure tome. An Emperor's tears have a peculiar power. I am rewarded enough!" Andthen it sang again with a sweet, glorious voice. "That's the most amiable coquetry I ever saw!" said the ladies who stoodround about, and then they took water in their mouths to gurgle whenanyone spoke to them. They thought they should be nightingales too. Andthe lackeys and chambermaids reported that they were satisfied also; andthat was saying a good deal, for they are the most difficult to please. In short, the Nightingale achieved a real success. It was now to remain at Court, to have its own cage, with liberty to goout twice every day and once at night. Twelve servants were appointedwhen the Nightingale went out, each of whom had a silken string fastenedto the bird's legs, which they held very tight. There was really nopleasure in an excursion of that kind. The whole city spoke of the wonderful bird, and whenever two people met, one said nothing but "Nightin, " and the other said "gale"; and then theyboth sighed, and understood one another. Eleven pedlars' children werenamed after the bird, but not one of them could sing a note. One day the Emperor received a large parcel, on which was written, "TheNightingale. " "There we have a new book about this celebrated bird, " said theEmperor. But it was not a book, but a little work of art, contained in a box--anartificial nightingale, which was to sing like a natural one, and wasbrilliantly ornamented with diamonds, sapphires, and rubies. So soon asthe artificial bird was wound up, he could sing one of the pieces thathe really sang, and then his tail moved up and down, and shone withsilver and gold. Round his neck hung a little ribbon, and on that waswritten, "The Emperor of China's nightingale is poor compared to that ofthe Emperor of Japan. " "That is capital!" said they all, and he who had brought the artificialbird immediately received the title, Imperial Head-Nightingale-Bringer. "Now they must sing together; what a duet that will be!" cried thecourtiers. And so they had to sing together; but it did not sound very well, forthe real Nightingale sang its own way, and the artificial bird sangwaltzes. "That's not his fault, " said the playmaster; "he's quite perfect, andvery much in my style. " Now the artificial bird was to sing alone. It had just as much successas the real one, and then it was much handsomer to look at--it shonelike bracelets and breastpins. Three and thirty times over did it sing the same piece, and yet was nottired. The people would gladly have heard it again, but the Emperor saidthat the living Nightingale ought to sing something now. But where wasit? No one had noticed that it had flown away out of the open window, back to the green wood. "But what has become of that?" asked the Emperor. And all the courtiers abused the Nightingale, and declared that it was avery ungrateful creature. "We have the best bird after all, " said they. And so the artificial bird had to sing again, and that was thethirty-fourth time that they listened to the same piece. For all thatthey did not know it quite by heart, for it was so very difficult. Andthe playmaster praised the bird particularly; yes, he declared that itwas better than a nightingale, not only with regard to its plumage andthe many beautiful diamonds, but inside as well. "For you see, ladies and gentlemen, and above all, your ImperialMajesty, with a real nightingale one can never calculate what is coming, but in this artificial bird, everything is settled. One can explain it;one can open it and make people understand where the waltzes come from, how they go, and how one follows up another. " "Those are quite our own ideas, " they all said. And the speaker received permission to show the bird to the people onthe next Sunday. The people were to hear it sing too, the Emperorcommanded: and they did hear it, and were as much pleased as if they hadall got tipsy upon tea, for that's quite the Chinese fashion, and theyall said, "Oh!" and held up their forefingers and nodded. But the poorfisherman, who had heard the real Nightingale, said: "It sounds pretty enough, and the melodies resemble each other, butthere's something wanting, though I know not what!" The real Nightingale was banished from the country and empire. Theartificial bird had its place on a silken cushion close to theEmperor's bed; all the presents it had received, gold and preciousstones, were ranged about it; in title it had advanced to be the HighImperial After-Dinner-Singer, and in rank to Number One on the lefthand; for the Emperor considered that side the most important on whichthe heart is placed, and even in an Emperor the heart is on the leftside; and the playmaster wrote a work of five and twenty volumes aboutthe artificial bird; it was very learnèd and very long, full of the mostdifficult Chinese words; but yet all the people declared that they hadread it and understood it, for fear of being considered stupid, andhaving their bodies trampled on. So a whole year went by. The Emperor, the Court, and all the otherChinese knew every little twitter in the artificial bird's song byheart. But just for that reason it pleased them best--they could singwith it themselves, and they did so. The street boys sang, "Tsi-tsi-tsi-glug-glug!" and the Emperor himself sang it too. Yes, thatwas certainly famous. But one evening, when the artificial bird was singing its best, and theEmperor lay in bed listening to it, something inside the bird said, "Whizz!" Something cracked. "Whir-r-r!" All the wheels ran round, andthen the music stopped. The Emperor immediately sprang out of bed, and caused his body physicianto be called; but what could _he_ do? Then they sent for a watchmaker, and after a good deal of talking and investigation, the bird was putinto something like order, but the watchmaker said that the bird must becarefully treated, for the barrels were worn, and it would be impossibleto put new ones in in such a manner that the music would go. There was agreat lamentation; only once in the year was it permitted to let thebird sing, and that was almost too much. But then the playmaster made alittle speech full of heavy words, and said this was just as good asbefore--and so of course it was as good as before. Now five years had gone by, and a real grief came upon the whole nation. The Chinese were really fond of their Emperor, and now he was ill, andcould not, it was said, live much longer. Already a new Emperor had beenchosen, and the people stood out in the street and asked the cavalierhow the Emperor did. "P!" said he, and shook his head. Cold and pale lay the Emperor in his great, gorgeous bed; the wholeCourt thought him dead, and each one ran to pay homage to the new ruler. The chamberlains ran out to talk it over, and the ladies' maids had agreat coffee party. All about, in all the halls and passages, cloth hadbeen laid down so that no footstep could be heard, and therefore it wasquiet there, quite quiet. But the Emperor was not dead yet; stiff andpale he lay on the gorgeous bed, with the long velvet curtains and theheavy gold tassels; high up, a window stood open, and the moon shone inupon the Emperor and the artificial bird. The poor Emperor could scarcely breathe; it was just as if something layupon his chest; he opened his eyes, and then he saw that it was Deathwho sat upon his chest, and had put on his golden crown, and held in onehand the Emperor's sword, in the other his beautiful banner. And allaround, from among the folds of the splendid velvet curtains, strangeheads peered forth; a few very ugly, the rest quite lovely and mild. These were all the Emperor's bad and good deeds, that stood before himnow that Death sat upon his heart. "Do you remember this?" whispered one to the other. "Do you rememberthat?" and then they told him so much that the perspiration ran from hisforehead. "I did not know that!" said the Emperor. "Music! music! the greatChinese drum!" he cried, "so that I need not hear all they say!" And they continued speaking, and Death nodded like a Chinaman to allthey said. "Music! music!" cried the Emperor. "You little precious golden bird, sing, sing! I have given you gold and costly presents; I have even hungmy golden slipper around your neck--sing now, sing!" But the bird stood still; no one was there to wind him up, and he couldnot sing without that; but Death continued to stare at the Emperor withhis great, hollow eyes, and it was quiet, fearfully quiet. Then there sounded from the window, suddenly, the most lovely song. Itwas the little live Nightingale, that sat outside on a spray. It hadheard of the Emperor's sad plight, and had come to sing to him ofcomfort and hope. As it sang the specters grew paler and paler; theblood ran quicker and more quickly through the Emperor's weak limbs; andeven Death listened, and said: "Go on, little Nightingale, go on!" "But will you give me that splendid golden sword? Will you give me thatrich banner? Will you give me the Emperor's crown?" And Death gave up each of these treasures for a song. And theNightingale sang on and on; and it sang of the quiet churchyard wherethe white roses grow, where the elder blossoms smell sweet, and wherethe fresh grass is moistened by the tears of survivors. Then Death felta longing to see his garden, and floated out at the window in the formof a cold white mist. "Thanks! thanks!" said the Emperor. "You heavenly little bird; I knowyou well. I banished you from my country and empire, and yet you havecharmed away the evil faces from my couch, and banished Death from myheart! How can I reward you?" "You have rewarded me!" replied the Nightingale. "I have drawn tearsfrom your eyes, when I sang the first time--I shall never forget that. Those are the jewels that rejoice a singer's heart. But now sleep, andgrow fresh and strong again. I will sing you something. " And it sang, and the Emperor fell into a sweet slumber. Ah! how mild andrefreshing that sleep was! The sun shone upon him through the windowswhen he awoke refreshed and restored: not one of his servants had yetreturned, for they all thought he was dead; only the Nightingale stillsat beside him and sang. "You must always stay with me, " said the Emperor. "You shall sing as youplease; and I'll break the artificial bird into a thousand pieces. " "Not so, " replied the Nightingale. "It did well as long as it could;keep it as you have done till now. I cannot build my nest in the palaceto dwell in it, but let me come when I feel the wish; then I will sit inthe evening on the spray yonder by the window, and sing you something, so that you may be glad and thoughtful at once. I will sing of those whoare happy and of those who suffer. I will sing of good and of evil thatremains hidden round about you. The little singing bird flies fararound, to the poor fisherman, to the peasant's roof, to everyone whodwells far away from you and from your Court. I love your heart morethan your crown, and yet the crown has an air of sanctity about it. Iwill come and sing to you--but one thing you must promise me. " "Every thing!" said the Emperor; and he stood there in his imperialrobes, which he had put on himself, and pressed the sword which washeavy with gold to his heart. "One thing I beg of you: tell no one that you have a little bird whotells you everything. Then it will go all the better. " And the Nightingale flew away. The servants came in to look at their dead Emperor, and--yes, there hestood, and the Emperor said, "Good-morning!" 195 This story is a favorite for the Christmas season. It is loosely constructed, and rambles along for some time after it might have been expected to finish. Such rambling is often very attractive to childish listeners, as it allows the introduction of unexpected incidents. Miss Kready has some interesting suggestions about dramatizing this story in her _Study of Fairy Tales_, pp. 151-153. The translation is Dulcken's. THE FIR TREE HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN Out in the forest stood a pretty little Fir Tree. It had a good place;it could have sunlight, air there was in plenty, and all around grewmany larger comrades--pines as well as firs. But the little Fir Treewished ardently to become greater. It did not care for the warm sun andthe fresh air; it took no notice of the peasant children, who went abouttalking together, when they had come out to look for strawberries andraspberries. Often they came with a whole pot-full, or had strungberries on a straw; then they would sit down by the little Fir Tree andsay, "How pretty and small that one is!" and the Fir Tree did not liketo hear that at all. Next year he had grown a great joint, and the following year he waslonger still, for in fir trees one can always tell by the number ofrings they have how many years they have been growing. "Oh, if I were only as great a tree as the other!" sighed the littleFir, "then I would spread my branches far around, and look out from mycrown into the wide world. The birds would then build nests in myboughs, and when the wind blew I could nod just as grandly as the othersyonder. " It took no pleasure in the sunshine, in the birds, and in the red cloudsthat went sailing over him morning and evening. When it was winter, and the snow lay all around, white and sparkling, ahare would often come jumping along, and spring right over the littleFir Tree. Oh! this made him so angry. But two winters went by, and whenthe third came the little Tree had grown so tall that the hare wasobliged to run round it. "Oh! to grow, to grow, and become old; that's the only fine thing in theworld, " thought the Tree. In the autumn woodcutters always came and felled a few of the largesttrees; that was done this year too, and the little Fir Tree, that wasnow quite well grown, shuddered with fear, for the great stately treesfell to the ground with a crash, and their branches were cut off, sothat the trees looked quite naked, long, and slender--they could hardlybe recognized. But then they were laid upon wagons, and horses draggedthem away out of the wood. Where were they going? What destiny awaitedthem? In the spring, when the Swallows and the Stork came, the Tree askedthem, "Do you know where they were taken? Did you not meet them?" The Swallows knew nothing about it, but the Stork looked thoughtful, nodded his head, and said: "Yes, I think so. I met many new ships when I flew out of Egypt; on theships were stately masts; I fancy these were the trees. They smelt likefir. I can assure you they're stately--very stately. " "Oh that I were only big enough to go over the sea! What kind of thingis this sea, and how does it look?" "It would take too long to explain all that, " said the Stork, and hewent away. "Rejoice in thy youth, " said the Sunbeams; "rejoice in thy fresh growth, and in the young life that is within thee. " And the wind kissed the Tree, and the dew wept tears upon it; but theFir Tree did not understand that. When Christmas-time approached, quite young trees were felled, sometimestrees which were neither so old nor so large as this Fir Tree, thatnever rested, but always wanted to go away. These young trees, whichwere always the most beautiful, kept all their branches; they were putupon wagons, and horses dragged them away out of the wood. "Where are they all going?" asked the Fir Tree. "They are not greaterthan I--indeed, one of them was much smaller. Why do they keep all theirbranches? Whither are they taken?" "We know that! We know that!" chirped the Sparrows. "Yonder in the townwe looked in at the windows. We know where they go. Oh! they are dressedup in the greatest pomp and splendor that can be imagined. We havelooked in at the windows, and have perceived that they are planted inthe middle of a warm room, and adorned with the most beautifulthings--gilt apples, honey-cakes, playthings, and many hundred candles. " "And then?" asked the Fir Tree, and trembled through all its branches. "And then? What happens then?" "Why, we have not seen anything more. But it was incomparable. " "Perhaps I may be destined to tread this glorious path one day!" criedthe Fir Tree, rejoicingly. "That is even better than traveling acrossthe sea. How painfully I long for it! If it were only Christmas now! NowI am great and grown up, like the rest who were led away last year. Oh, if I were only on the carriage! If I were only in the warm room, amongall the pomp and splendor! And then? Yes, then something even betterwill come, something far more charming, or else why should they adorn meso? There must be something grander, something greater still to come;but what? Oh! I'm suffering, I'm longing! I don't know myself what isthe matter with me!" "Rejoice in us, " said Air and Sunshine. "Rejoice in thy fresh youth herein the woodland. " But the Fir Tree did not rejoice at all, but it grew and grew; winterand summer it stood there, green, dark green. The people who saw itsaid, "That's a handsome tree!" and at Christmas time it was felledbefore any one of the others. The ax cut deep into its marrow, and thetree fell to the ground with a sigh; it felt a pain, a sensation offaintness, and could not think at all of happiness, for it was sad atparting from its home, from the place where it had grown up; it knewthat it should never again see the dear old companions, the littlebushes and flowers all around--perhaps not even the birds. The partingwas not at all agreeable. The Tree only came to itself when it was unloaded in a yard, with othertrees, and heard a man say: "This one is famous; we want only this one!" Now two servants came in gay liveries, and carried the Fir Tree into alarge, beautiful saloon. All around the walls hung pictures, and by thegreat stove stood large Chinese vases with lions on the covers; therewere rocking-chairs, silken sofas, great tables covered with picturebooks, and toys worth a hundred times a hundred dollars, at least thechildren said so. And the Fir Tree was put into a great tub filled withsand; but no one could see that it was a tub, for it was hung round withgreen cloth, and stood on a large, many-colored carpet. Oh, how the Treetrembled! What was to happen now? The servants, and the young ladiesalso, decked it out. On one branch they hung little nets, cut out ofcolored paper; every net was filled with sweetmeats; golden apples andwalnuts hung down, as if they grew there, and more than a hundred littlecandles, red, white, and blue, were fastened to the different boughs. Dolls that looked exactly like real people--the tree had never seen suchbefore--swung among the foliage, and high on the summit of the Tree wasfixed a tinsel star. It was splendid, particularly splendid. "This evening, " said all, "this evening it will shine. " "Oh, " thought the Tree, "that it were evening already! Oh, that thelights may be soon lit up! When may that be done? I wonder if trees willcome out of the forest to look at me? Will the sparrows fly against thepanes? Shall I grow fast here, and stand adorned in summer and winter?" Yes, he did not guess badly. But he had a complete backache from merelonging, and the backache is just as bad for a Tree as the headache fora person. At last the candles were lighted. What a brilliance, what splendor! TheTree trembled so in all its branches that one of the candles set fire toa green twig, and it was scorched. "Heaven preserve us!" cried the young ladies; and they hastily put thefire out. Now the Tree might not even tremble. Oh, that was terrible! It was soafraid of setting fire to some of its ornaments, and it was quitebewildered with all the brilliance. And now the folding doors werethrown open, and a number of children rushed in as if they would haveoverturned the whole Tree; the older people followed more deliberately. The little ones stood quite silent, but only for a minute; then theyshouted till the room rang: they danced gleefully round the Tree, andone present after another was plucked from it. "What are they about?" thought the Tree. "What's going to be done?" And the candles burned down to the twigs, and as they burned down theywere extinguished, and then the children received permission to plunderthe Tree. Oh! they rushed in upon it, so that every branch crackedagain: if it had not been fastened by the top and by the golden star tothe ceiling, it would have fallen down. The children danced about with their pretty toys. No one looked at theTree except one old man, who came up and peeped among the branches, butonly to see if a fig or an apple had not been forgotten. "A story! A story!" shouted the children; and they drew a little fat mantoward the tree; and he sat down just beneath it--"for then we shall bein the green wood, " said he, "and the tree may have the advantage oflistening to my tale. But I can only tell one. Will you hear the storyof Ivede-Avede, or of Klumpey-Dumpey, who fell downstairs, and still wasraised up to honor and married the Princess?" "Ivede-Avede!" cried some, "Klumpey-Dumpey!" cried others, and there wasa great crying and shouting. Only the Fir Tree was quite silent, andthought, "Shall I not be in it? Shall I have nothing to do in it?" Buthe had been in the evening's amusement, and had done what was requiredof him. And the fat man told about Klumpey-Dumpey who fell downstairs, and yetwas raised to honor and married the Princess. And the children clappedtheir hands, and cried, "Tell another! tell another!" for they wanted tohear about Ivede-Avede; but they only got the story of Klumpey-Dumpey. The Fir Tree stood quite silent and thoughtful; never had the birds inthe wood told such a story as that. Klumpey-Dumpey fell downstairs, andyet came to honor and married the Princess! "Yes, so it happens in the world!" thought the Fir Tree, and believed itmust be true, because that was such a nice man who told it. "Well, whocan know? Perhaps I shall fall downstairs, too, and marry a Princess!"And it looked forward with pleasure to being adorned again, the nextevening, with candles and toys, gold and fruit. "To-morrow I shall nottremble, " it thought. "I will rejoice in all my splendor. To-morrow I shall hear the story ofKlumpey-Dumpey again, and perhaps that of Ivede-Avede, too. " And the Tree stood all night quiet and thoughtful. In the morning the servants and the chambermaid came in. "Now my splendor will begin afresh, " thought the Tree. But they draggedhim out of the room, and upstairs to the garret, and here they put himin a dark corner where no daylight shone. "What's the meaning of this?" thought the Tree. "What am I to do here?What is to happen?" And he leaned against the wall, and thought, and thought. And he hadtime enough, for days and nights went by, and nobody came up; and whenat length someone came, it was only to put some great boxes in a corner. Now the Tree stood quite hidden away, and the supposition is that it wasquite forgotten. "Now it's winter outside, " thought the Tree. "The earth is hard andcovered with snow, and people cannot plant me; therefore I suppose I'mto be sheltered here until spring comes. How considerate that is! Howgood people are! If it were only not so dark here, and so terriblysolitary!--not even a little hare? That was pretty out there in thewood, when the snow lay thick and the hare sprang past; yes, even whenhe jumped over me; but then I did not like it. It is terribly lonely uphere!" "Piep! piep!" said a little Mouse, and crept forward, and then cameanother little one. They smelt at the Fir Tree, and then slipped amongthe branches. "It's horribly cold, " said the two little Mice, "or else it would becomfortable here. Don't you think so, you old Fir Tree?" "I'm not old at all, " said the Fir Tree. "There are many much older thanI. " "Where do you come from?" asked the Mice. "And what do you know?" Theywere dreadfully inquisitive. "Tell us about the most beautiful spot onearth. Have you been there? Have you been in the store room, wherecheeses lie on the shelves, and hams hang from the ceiling, where onedances on tallow candles, and goes in thin and comes out fat?" "I don't know that, " replied the Tree; "but I know the wood, where thesun shines and the birds sing. " And then it told all about its youth. And the little Mice had never heard anything of the kind; and theylistened and said: "What a number of things you have seen! How happy you must have been!" "I?" replied the Fir Tree; and it thought about what it had told. "Yes, those were really quite happy times. " But then he told of the ChristmasEve, when he had been hung with sweetmeats and candles. "Oh!" said the little Mice, "how happy you have been, you old Fir Tree!" "I'm not old at all, " said the Tree. "I only came out of the wood thiswinter. I'm only rather backward in my growth. " "What splendid stories you can tell!" said the little Mice. And next night they came with four other little Mice, to hear what theTree had to relate; and the more it said, the more clearly did itremember everything, and thought, "Those were quite merry days! But theymay come again. Klumpey-Dumpey fell downstairs, and yet he married thePrincess. Perhaps I may marry a Princess too!" And the Fir Tree thoughtof a pretty little Birch Tree that grew out in the forest; for the FirTree, that Birch was a real Princess. "Who's Klumpey-Dumpey?" asked the little Mice. And then the Fir Tree told the whole story. It could remember everysingle word; and the little Mice were ready to leap to the very top ofthe tree with pleasure. Next night a great many more Mice came, and onSunday two Rats even appeared; but these thought the story was notpretty, and the little Mice were sorry for that, for now they also didnot like it so much as before. "Do you only know one story?" asked the Rats. "Only that one, " replied the Tree. "I heard that on the happiest eveningof my life; I did not think then how happy I was. " "That's a very miserable story. Don't you know any about bacon andtallow candles--a store-room story?" "No, " said the Tree. "Then we'd rather not hear you, " said the Rats. And they went back to their own people. The little Mice at last stayedaway also; and then the Tree sighed and said: "It was very nice when they sat round me, the merry little Mice, andlistened when I spoke to them. Now that's past too. But I shall rememberto be pleased when they take me out. " But when did that happen? Why, it was one morning that people came andrummaged in the garret: the boxes were put away, and the Tree broughtout; they certainly threw him rather roughly on the floor, but a servantdragged him away at once to the stairs, where the daylight shone. "Now life is beginning again!" thought the Tree. It felt the fresh air and the first sunbeams, and now it was out in thecourtyard. Everything passed so quickly that the Tree quite forgot tolook at itself, there was so much to look at all round. The courtyardwas close to a garden, and here everything was blooming; the roses hungfresh and fragrant over the little paling, the linden trees were inblossom, and the swallows cried, "Quinze-wit! quinze-wit! my husband'scome!" But it was not the Fir Tree that they meant. "Now I shall live!" said the Tree, rejoicingly, and spread its branchesfar out; but, alas! they were all withered and yellow; and it lay in thecorner among nettles and weeds. The tinsel star was still upon it, andshone in the bright sunshine. In the courtyard a couple of the merry children were playing who haddanced round the tree at Christmas time, and had rejoiced over it. Oneof the youngest ran up and tore off the golden star. "Look what is sticking to the ugly old fir tree!" said the child, and hetrod upon the branches till they cracked again under his boots. And the Tree looked at all the blooming flowers and the splendor of thegarden, and then looked at itself, and wished it had remained in thedark corner of the garret; it thought of its fresh youth in the wood, ofthe merry Christmas Eve, and of the little Mice which had listened sopleasantly to the story of Klumpey-Dumpey. "Past! past!" said the old Tree. "Had I but rejoiced when I could havedone so! Past! past!" And the servant came and chopped the Tree into little pieces; a wholebundle lay there; it blazed brightly under the great brewing copper, andit sighed deeply, and each sigh was like a little shot; and the childrenwho were at play there ran up and seated themselves at the fire, lookedinto it, and cried "Puff! puff!" But at each explosion, which was a deepsigh, the Tree thought of a summer day in the woods, or of a winternight there, when the stars beamed; he thought of Christmas Eve and ofKlumpey-Dumpey, the only story he had ever heard or knew how to tell;and then the Tree was burned. The boys played in the garden, and the youngest had on his breast agolden star, which the Tree had worn on its happiest evening. Now thatwas past, and the Tree's life was past, and the story is past too: past!past!--and that's the way with all stories. 196 The tale that follows was one of the author's earliest stories, published in 1835. It is clearly based upon an old folk tale, one variant of which is "The Blue Light" from the Grimm collection (No. 174). "It was a lucky stroke, " says Brandes, "that made Andersen the poet of children. After long fumbling, after unsuccessful efforts, which must necessarily throw a false and ironic light on the self-consciousness of a poet whose pride based its justification mainly on the expectancy of a future which he felt slumbering within his soul, after wandering about for long years, Andersen . . . One evening found himself in front of a little insignificant yet mysterious door, the door of the nursery story. He touched it, it yielded, and he saw, burning in the obscurity within, the little 'Tinder-Box' that became his Aladdin's lamp. He struck fire with it, and the spirits of the lamp--the dogs with eyes as large as tea-cups, as mill-wheels, as the round tower in Copenhagen--stood before him and brought him the three giant chests, containing all the copper, silver, and gold treasure stories of the nursery story. The first story had sprung into existence, and the 'Tinder-Box' drew all the others onward in its train. Happy is he who has found his 'tinder-box. '" The translation is by H. W. Dulcken. THE TINDER-BOX HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN There came a soldier marching along the high road--_one, two! one, two!_He had his knapsack on his back and a saber by his side, for he had beenin the wars, and now he wanted to go home. And on the way he met with anold witch; she was very hideous, and her under lip hung down upon herbreast. She said, "Good evening, soldier. What a fine sword you have, and what a big knapsack! You're a proper soldier! Now you shall have asmuch money as you like to have. " "I thank you, you old witch!" said the soldier. "Do you see that great tree?" quoth the witch; and she pointed to a treewhich stood beside them. "It's quite hollow inside. You must climb tothe top, and then you'll see a hole, through which you can let yourselfdown and get deep into the tree. I'll tie a rope round your body, sothat I can pull you up again when you call me. " "What am I to do down in the tree?" asked the soldier. "Get money, " replied the witch. "Listen to me. When you come down to theearth under the tree, you will find yourself in a great hall: it isquite light, for above three hundred lamps are burning there. Then youwill see three doors; those you can open, for the keys are hangingthere. If you go into the first chamber, you'll see a great chest in themiddle of the floor; on this chest sits a dog, and he's got a pair ofeyes as big as two tea-cups. But you need not care for that. I'll giveyou my blue-checked apron, and you can spread it out upon the floor;then go up quickly and take the dog, and set him on my apron; then openthe chest, and take as many shillings as you like. They are of copper:if you prefer silver, you must go into the second chamber. But theresits a dog with a pair of eyes as big as mill-wheels. But do not youcare for that. Set him upon my apron, and take some of the money. And ifyou want gold, you can have that too--in fact, as much as you cancarry--if you go into the third chamber. But the dog that sits on themoney-chest there has two eyes as big as round towers. He is a fiercedog, you may be sure; but you needn't be afraid, for all that. Only sethim on my apron, and he won't hurt you; and take out of the chest asmuch gold as you like. " "That's not so bad, " said the soldier. "But what am I to give you, oldwitch? for you will not do it for nothing, I fancy. " "No, " replied the witch, "not a single shilling will I have. You shallonly bring me an old tinder-box which my grandmother forgot when she wasdown there last. " "Then tie the rope round my body, " cried the soldier. "Here it is, " said the witch, "and here's my blue-checked apron. " Then the soldier climbed up into the tree, let himself slip down intothe hole, and stood, as the witch had said, in the great hall where thethree hundred lamps were burning. Now he opened the first door. Ugh! there sat the dog with eyes as big astea-cups, staring at him. "You're a nice fellow!" exclaimed the soldier;and he set him on the witch's apron, and took as many copper shillingsas his pockets would hold, and then locked the chest, set the dog on itagain, and went into the second chamber. Aha! there sat the dog witheyes as big as mill-wheels. "You should not stare so hard at me, " said the soldier; "you mightstrain your eyes. " And he set the dog upon the witch's apron. And whenhe saw the silver money in the chest, he threw away all the copper moneyhe had, and filled his pocket and his knapsack with silver only. Then hewent into the third chamber. Oh, but that was horrid! The dog therereally had eyes as big as towers, and they turned round and round in hishead like wheels. "Good evening!" said the soldier; and he touched his cap, for he hadnever seen such a dog as that before. When he had looked at him a littlemore closely, he thought, "That will do, " and lifted him down to thefloor, and opened the chest. Mercy! what a quantity of gold was there!He could buy with it the whole town, and the sugar sucking-pigs of thecake woman, and all the tin soldiers, whips, and rocking-horses in thewhole world. Yes, that was a quantity of money! Now the soldier threwaway all the silver coin with which he had filled his pockets and hisknapsack, and took gold instead: yes, all his pockets, his knapsack, hisboots, and his cap were filled, so that he could scarcely walk. Nowindeed he had plenty of money. He put the dog on the chest, shut thedoor, and then called up through the tree, "Now pull me up, you oldwitch. " "Have you the tinder-box?" asked the witch. "Plague on it!" exclaimed the soldier, "I had clean forgotten that. " Andhe went and brought it. The witch drew him up, and he stood on the high road again, withpockets, boots, knapsack, and cap full of gold. "What are you going to do with the tinder-box?" asked the soldier. "That's nothing to you, " retorted the witch. "You've had yourmoney--just give me the tinder-box. " "Nonsense!" said the soldier. "Tell me directly what you're going to dowith it, or I'll draw my sword and cut off your head. " "No!" cried the witch. So the soldier cut off her head. There she lay! But he tied up all hismoney in her apron, took it on his back like a bundle, put thetinder-box in his pocket, and went straight off toward the town. That was a splendid town! And he put up at the very best inn and askedfor the finest rooms, and ordered his favorite dishes, for now he wasrich, as he had so much money. The servant who had to clean his bootscertainly thought them a remarkably old pair for such a rich gentleman;but he had not bought any new ones yet. The next day he procured properboots and handsome clothes. Now our soldier had become a fine gentleman;and the people told him of all the splendid things which were in theircity, and about the King, and what a pretty Princess the King's daughterwas. "Where can one get to see her?" asked the soldier. "She is not to be seen at all, " said they, all together; "she lives in agreat copper castle, with a great many walls and towers round about it;no one but the King may go in and out there, for it has been prophesiedthat she shall marry a common soldier, and the King can't bear that. " "I should like to see her, " thought the soldier; but he could not getleave to do so. Now he lived merrily, went to the theater, drove in theKing's garden, and gave much money to the poor; and this was very kindof him, for he knew from old times how hard it is when one has not ashilling. Now he was rich, had fine clothes, and gained many friends, who all said he was a rare one, a true cavalier; and that pleased thesoldier well. But as he spent money every day and never earned any, hehad at last only two shillings left; and he was obliged to turn out ofthe fine rooms in which he had dwelt, and had to live in a little garretunder the roof, and clean his boots for himself, and mend them with adarning-needle. None of his friends came to see him, for there were toomany stairs to climb. It was quite dark one evening, and he could not even buy himself acandle, when it occurred to him that there was a candle-end in thetinder-box which he had taken out of the hollow tree into which thewitch had helped him. He brought out the tinder-box and the candle-end;but as soon as he struck fire and the sparks rose up from the flint, thedoor flew open, and the dog who had eyes as big as a couple of tea-cups, and whom he had seen in the tree, stood before him, and said: "What are my lord's commands?" "What is this?" said the soldier. "That's a famous tinder-box, if I canget everything with it that I want! Bring me some money, " said he to thedog: and _whisk!_ the dog was gone, and _whisk!_ he was back again, witha great bag full of shillings in his mouth. Now the soldier knew what a capital tinder-box this was. If he struck itonce, the dog came who sat upon the chest of copper money; if he struckit twice, the dog came who had the silver; and if he struck it threetimes, then appeared the dog who had the gold. Now the soldier movedback into the fine rooms, and appeared again in handsome clothes; andall his friends knew him again, and cared very much for him indeed. Once he thought to himself, "It is a very strange thing that one cannotget to see the Princess. They all say she is very beautiful; but what isthe use of that, if she has always to sit in the great copper castlewith the many towers? Can I not get to see her at all? Where is mytinder-box?" And so he struck a light, and _whisk!_ came the dog witheyes as big as tea-cups. "It is midnight, certainly, " said the soldier, "but I should very muchlike to see the Princess, only for one little moment. " And the dog was outside the door directly, and, before the soldierthought it, came back with the Princess. She sat upon the dog's back andslept; and everyone could see she was a real Princess, for she was solovely. The soldier could not refrain from kissing her, for he was athorough soldier. Then the dog ran back again with the Princess. Butwhen morning came, and the King and Queen were drinking tea, thePrincess said she had had a strange dream, the night before, about a dogand a soldier--that she had ridden upon the dog, and the soldier hadkissed her. "That would be a fine history!" said the Queen. So one of the old Court ladies had to watch the next night by thePrincess's bed, to see if this was really a dream, or what it might be. The soldier had a great longing to see the lovely Princess again; so thedog came in the night, took her away, and ran as fast as he could. Butthe old lady put on water-boots, and ran just as fast after him. Whenshe saw that they both entered a great house, she thought, "Now I knowwhere it is"; and with a bit of chalk she drew a great cross on thedoor. Then she went home and lay down, and the dog came up with thePrincess; but when he saw that there was a cross drawn on the door wherethe soldier lived, he took a piece of chalk too, and drew crosses on allthe doors in the town. And that was cleverly done, for now the ladycould not find the right door, because all the doors had crosses uponthem. In the morning early came the King and the Queen, the old Court lady andall the officers, to see where it was the Princess had been. "Here itis!" said the King, when he saw the first door with a cross upon it. "No, my dear husband, it is there!" said the Queen, who descried anotherdoor which also showed a cross. "But there is one, and there is one!"said all, for wherever they looked there were crosses on the doors. Sothey saw that it would avail them nothing if they searched on. But the Queen was an exceedingly clever woman, who could do more thanride in a coach. She took her great gold scissors, cut a piece of silkinto pieces, and made a neat little bag: this bag she filled with finewheat flour, and tied it on the Princess's back; and when that was done, she cut a little hole in the bag, so that the flour would be scatteredalong all the way which the Princess should take. In the night the dog came again, took the Princess on his back, and ranwith her to the soldier, who loved her very much, and would gladly havebeen a prince, so that he might have her for his wife. The dog did notnotice at all how the flour ran out in a stream from the castle to thewindows of the soldier's house, where he ran up the wall with thePrincess. In the morning the King and Queen saw well enough where theirdaughter had been, and they took the soldier and put him in prison. There he sat. Oh, but it was dark and disagreeable there! And they saidto him, "To-morrow you shall be hanged. " That was not amusing to hear, and he had left his tinder-box at the inn. In the morning he could see, through the iron grating of the little window, how the people werehurrying out of the town to see him hanged. He heard the drums beat andsaw the soldiers marching. All the people were running out, and amongthem was a shoemaker's boy with leather apron and slippers, and hegalloped so fast that one of his slippers flew off, and came rightagainst the wall where the soldier sat looking through the iron grating. "Halloo, you shoemaker's boy! you needn't be in such a hurry, " cried thesoldier to him: "it will not begin till I come. But if you will run towhere I lived, and bring me my tinder-box, you shall have fourshillings; but you must put your best leg foremost. " The shoemaker's boy wanted to get the four shillings, so he went andbrought the tinder-box, and--well, we shall hear now what happened. Outside the town a great gallows had been built, and around it stood thesoldiers and many hundred thousand people. The King and Queen sat on asplendid throne, opposite to the Judges and the whole Council. Thesoldier already stood upon the ladder; but as they were about to put therope round his neck, he said that before a poor criminal suffered hispunishment an innocent request was always granted to him. He wanted verymuch to smoke a pipe of tobacco, as it would be the last pipe he shouldsmoke in this world. The King would not say "No" to this; so the soldiertook his tinder-box and struck fire. One--two--three--! and theresuddenly stood all the dogs--the one with eyes as big as tea-cups, theone with eyes as large as mill-wheels, and the one whose eyes were asbig as round towers. "Help me now, so that I may not be hanged, " said the soldier. And thedogs fell upon the Judge and all the Council, seized one by the leg andanother by the nose, and tossed them all many feet into the air, so thatthey fell down and were all broken to pieces. "I won't!" cried the King; but the biggest dog took him and the Queenand threw them after the others. Then the soldiers were afraid, and thepeople cried, "Little soldier, you shall be our King, and marry thebeautiful Princess!" So they put the soldier into the King's coach, and all the three dogsdarted on in front and cried "Hurrah!" and the boys whistled throughtheir fingers, and the soldiers presented arms. The Princess came out ofthe copper castle, and became Queen, and she liked that well enough. Thewedding lasted a week, and the three dogs sat at the table too, andopened their eyes wider than ever at all they saw. 197 The following is one of Andersen's early stories, published in 1838. It has always been a great favorite. Whimsically odd couples, in this case so constant in their devotion to each other, seemed to appeal to Andersen. The romance of the Whip Top and the Ball in the little story "The Lovers" deals with another odd couple. "Constant" or "steadfast" are terms sometimes used in the different versions instead of "hardy, " and, if they seem better to carry the meaning intended, teachers should feel free to substitute one of them in telling or reading the story. The translation is by H. W. Dulcken. THE HARDY TIN SOLDIER HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN There were once five-and-twenty tin soldiers; they were all brothers, for they had all been born of one old tin spoon. They shouldered theirmuskets, and looked straight before them; their uniform was red andblue, and very splendid. The first thing they had heard in the world, when the lid was taken off their box, had been the words, "Tinsoldiers!" These words were uttered by a little boy, clapping his hands:the soldiers had been given to him, for it was his birthday; and now heput them upon the table. Each soldier was exactly like the rest; but oneof them had been cast last of all, and there had not been enough tin tofinish him; but he stood as firmly upon his one leg as the others ontheir two; and it was just this Soldier who became remarkable. On the table on which they had been placed stood many other playthings, but the toy that attracted most attention was a neat castle ofcardboard. Through the little windows one could see straight into thehall. Before the castle some little trees were placed round a littlelooking-glass, which was to represent a clear lake. Waxen swans swam onthis lake, and were mirrored in it. This was all very pretty; but theprettiest of all was a little lady, who stood at the open door of thecastle; she was also cut out in paper, but she had a dress of theclearest gauze, and a little narrow blue ribbon over her shoulders, thatlooked like a scarf; and in the middle of this ribbon was a shiningtinsel rose as big as her whole face. The little lady stretched out bothher arms, for she was a dancer; and then she lifted one leg so high thatthe Tin Soldier could not see it at all, and thought that, like himself, she had but one leg. "That would be the wife for me, " thought he; "but she is very grand. Shelives in a castle, and I have only a box, and there are five-and-twentyof us in that. It is no place for her. But I must try to makeacquaintance with her. " And then he lay down at full length behind a snuff-box which was on thetable; there he could easily watch the little dainty lady, who continuedto stand upon one leg without losing her balance. When the evening came all the other tin soldiers were put into theirbox, and the people in the house went to bed. Now the toys began to playat "visiting, " and at "war, " and "giving balls. " The tin soldiersrattled in their box, for they wanted to join, but could not lift thelid. The nutcracker threw somersaults, and the pencil amused itself onthe table; there was so much noise that the canary woke up, and began tospeak too, and even in verse. The only two who did not stir from theirplaces were the Tin Soldier and the Dancing Lady: she stood straight upon the point of one of her toes, and stretched out both her arms; and hewas just as enduring on his one leg; and he never turned his eyes awayfrom her. Now the clock struck twelve--and, bounce! the lid flew off thesnuff-box; but there was no snuff in it, but a little black Goblin: yousee, it was a trick. "Tin Soldier!" said the Goblin, "don't stare at things that don'tconcern you. " But the Tin Soldier pretended not to hear him. "Just you wait till to-morrow!" said the Goblin. But when the morning came, and the children got up, the Tin Soldier wasplaced in the window; and whether it was the Goblin or the draught thatdid it, all at once the window flew open, and the Soldier fell headover heels out of the third story. That was a terrible passage! He puthis leg straight up, and stuck with helmet downward and his bayonetbetween the paving-stones. The servant-maid and the little boy came down directly to look for him, but though they almost trod upon him, they could not see him. If theSoldier had cried out "Here I am!" they would have found him; but he didnot think it fitting to call out loudly, because he was in uniform. Now it began to rain; the drops soon fell thicker, and at last it camedown into a complete stream. When the rain was past, two street boyscame by. "Just look!" said one of them, "there lies a Tin Soldier. He must comeout and ride in the boat. " And they made a boat out of a newspaper, and put the Tin Soldier in themiddle of it, and so he sailed down the gutter, and the two boys ranbeside him and clapped their hands. Goodness preserve us! how the wavesrose in that gutter, and how fast the stream ran! But then it had been aheavy rain. The paper boat rocked up and down, and sometimes turnedround so rapidly that the Tin Soldier trembled; but he remained firm, and never changed countenance, and looked straight before him, andshouldered his musket. All at once the boat went into a long drain, and it became as dark as ifhe had been in his box. "Where am I going now?" he thought. "Yes, yes, that's the Goblin'sfault. Ah! if the little lady only sat here with me in the boat, itmight be twice as dark for what I should care. " Suddenly there came a great Water Rat, which lived under the drain. "Have you a passport?" said the Rat. "Give me your passport. " But the Tin Soldier kept silence, and held his musket tighter than ever. The boat went on, but the Rat came after it. Hu! how he gnashed histeeth, and called out to the bits of straw and wood: "Hold him! hold him! He hasn't paid toll--he hasn't shown his passport!" But the stream became stronger and stronger. The Tin Soldier could seethe bright daylight where the arch ended; but he heard a roaring noisewhich might well frighten a bolder man. Only think--just where thetunnel ended, the drain ran into a great canal; and for him that wouldhave been as dangerous as for us to be carried down a great waterfall. Now he was already so near it that he could not stop. The boat wascarried out, the poor Tin Soldier stiffening himself as much as hecould, and no one could say that he moved an eyelid. The boat whirledround three or four times, and was full of water to the very edge--itmust sink. The Tin Soldier stood up to his neck in water, and the boatsank deeper and deeper, and the paper was loosened more and more; andnow the water closed over the soldier's head. Then he thought of thepretty little Dancer, and how he should never see her again; and itsounded in the soldier's ears: Farewell, farewell, thou warrior brave, For this day thou must die! And now the paper parted, and the Tin Soldier fell out; but at thatmoment he was snapped up by a great fish. Oh, how dark it was in that fish's body! It was darker yet than in thedrain tunnel; and then it was very narrow too. But the Tin Soldierremained unmoved, and lay at full length shouldering his musket. The fish swam to and fro; he made the most wonderful movements, and thenbecame quite still. At last something flashed through him likelightning. The daylight shone quite clear, and a voice said aloud, "TheTin Soldier!" The fish had been caught, carried to market, bought, andtaken into the kitchen, where the cook cut him open with a large knife. She seized the Soldier round the body with both her hands and carriedhim into the room, where all were anxious to see the remarkable man whohad traveled about in the inside of a fish; but the Tin Soldier was notat all proud. They placed him on the table, and there--no! What curiousthings may happen in the world. The Tin Soldier was in the very room inwhich he had been before! He saw the same children, and the same toysstood on the table; and there was the pretty castle with the gracefullittle Dancer. She was still balancing herself on one leg, and held theother extended in the air. She was hardy too. That moved the TinSoldier; he was very nearly weeping tin tears, but that would not havebeen proper. He looked at her, but they said nothing to each other. Then one of the little boys took the Tin Soldier and flung him into thestove. He gave no reason for doing this. It must have been the fault ofthe Goblin in the snuff-box. The Tin Soldier stood there quite illuminated, and felt a heat that wasterrible; but whether this heat proceeded from the real fire or fromlove he did not know. The colors had quite gone off from him; butwhether that had happened on the journey, or had been caused by grief, no one could say. He looked at the little lady, she looked at him, andhe felt that he was melting; but he still stood firm, shouldering hismusket. Then suddenly the door flew open, and the draught of air caughtthe Dancer, and she flew like a sylph just into the stove to the TinSoldier, and flashed up in a flame, and she was gone. Then the TinSoldier melted down into a lump; and when the servant-maid took theashes out next day, she found him in the shape of a little tin heart. But of the Dancer nothing remained but the tinsel rose, and that wasburned as black as a coal. 198 "The Ugly Duckling" has always been regarded as one of Andersen's most exquisite stories. No one can fail to notice the parallel that suggests itself between the successive stages in the duckling's history and those in Andersen's own life. In this story, remarks Dr. Brandes, "there is the quintessence of the author's entire life (melancholy, humor, martyrdom, triumph) and of his whole nature: the gift of observation and the sparkling intellect which he used to avenge himself upon folly and wickedness, the varied faculties which constitute his genius. " The standards of judgment used by the ducks, the turkey, the hen, and the cat are all delightfully and humorously satirical of human stupidity and shortsightedness. The translation used is by H. W. Dulcken. THE UGLY DUCKLING HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN It was glorious out in the country. It was summer, and the cornfieldswere yellow, and the oats were green; the hay had been put up in stacksin the green meadows, and the stork went about on his long red legs, andchattered Egyptian, for this was the language he had learned from hisgood mother. All around the fields and meadows were great forests, andin the midst of these forests lay deep lakes. Yes, it was reallyglorious out in the country. In the midst of the sunshine there lay anold farm, surrounded by deep canals, and from the wall down to the watergrew great burdocks, so high that little children could stand uprightunder the loftiest of them. It was just as wild there as in the deepestwood. Here sat a Duck upon her nest, for she had to hatch her youngones; but she was almost tired out before the little ones came; and thenshe so seldom had visitors. The other ducks liked better to swim aboutin the canals than to run up to sit down under a burdock and cackle withher. At last one eggshell after another burst open. "Piep! piep!" it cried, and in all the eggs there were little creatures that stuck out theirheads. "Rap! rap!" they said; and they all came rapping out as fast as theycould, looking all round them under the green leaves; and the mother letthem look as much as they chose, for green is good for the eyes. "How wide the world is!" said the young ones, for they certainly hadmuch more room now than when they were in the eggs. "Do you think this is all the world!" asked the mother. "That extendsfar across the other side of the garden, quite into the parson's field, but I have never been there yet. I hope you are all together, " shecontinued, and stood up. "No, I have not all. The largest egg still liesthere. How long is that to last? I am really tired of it. " And she satdown again. "Well, how goes it?" asked an old Duck who had come to pay her a visit. "It lasts a long time with that one egg, " said the Duck who sat there. "It will not burst. Now, only look at the others; are they not theprettiest ducks one could possibly see? They are all like their father;the bad fellow never comes to see me. " "Let me see the egg which will not burst, " said the old visitor. "Believe me, it is a turkey's egg. I was once cheated in that way, andhad much anxiety and trouble with the young ones, for they are afraid ofthe water. I could not get them to venture in. I quacked and clucked, but it was of no use. Let me see the egg. Yes, that's a turkey's egg!Let it lie there, and you teach the other children to swim. " "I think I will sit on it a little longer, " said the Duck. "I've sat solong now that I can sit a few days more. " "Just as you please, " said the old Duck; and she went away. At last the great egg burst. "Piep! piep!" said the little one, andcrept forth. It was very large and very ugly. The Duck looked at it. "It's a very large duckling, " said she; "none of the others look likethat; can it really be a turkey chick? Now we shall soon find out. Itmust go into the water, even if I have to thrust it in myself. " The next day the weather was splendidly bright, and the sun shone on allthe green trees. The Mother-Duck went down to the water with all herlittle ones. Splash! she jumped into the water. "Quack! quack!" shesaid, and then one duckling after another plunged in. The water closedover their heads, but they came up in an instant, and swam capitally;their legs went of themselves, and there they were, all in the water. The ugly gray Duckling swam with them. "No, it's not a turkey, " said she; "look how well it can use its legs, and how upright it holds itself. It is my own child! On the whole it'squite pretty, if one looks at it rightly. Quack! quack! come with me, and I'll lead you out into the great world, and present you in thepoultry-yard; but keep close to me, so that no one may tread on you; andtake care of the cats!" And so they came into the poultry-yard. There was a terrible riot goingon in there, for two families were quarreling about an eel's head, andthe cat got it after all. "See, that's how it goes in the world!" said the Mother-Duck; and shewhetted her beak, for she, too, wanted the eel's head. "Only use yourlegs, " she said. "See that you bustle about, and bow your heads beforethe old Duck yonder. She's the grandest of all here; she's of Spanishblood--that's why she's so fat; and do you see, she has a red rag roundher leg; that's something particularly fine, and the greatestdistinction a duck can enjoy; it signifies that one does not want tolose her, and that she's to be recognized by man and beast. Shakeyourselves--don't turn in your toes; a well-brought-up Duck turns itstoes quite out, just like father and mother, so! Now bend your necks andsay 'Rap!'" And they did so; but the other Ducks round about looked at them, andsaid quite boldly: "Look there! now we're to have these hanging on, as if there were notenough of us already! And--fie--! how that Duckling yonder looks; wewon't stand that!" And one duck flew up immediately, and bit it in theneck. "Let it alone, " said the mother; "it does no harm to anyone. " "Yes, but it's too large and peculiar, " said the Duck who had bitten it;"and therefore it must be buffeted. " "Those are pretty children that the mother has there, " said the old Duckwith the rag round her leg. "They're all pretty but that one; that was afailure. I wish she could alter it. " "That cannot be done, my lady, " replied the Mother-Duck. "It is notpretty, but it has a really good disposition, and swims as well as anyother; I may even say it swims better. I think it will grow up pretty, and become smaller in time; it has lain too long in the egg, andtherefore is not properly shaped. " And then she pinched it in the neck, and smoothed its feathers. "Moreover, it is a drake, " she said, "andtherefore it is not of so much consequence. I think he will be verystrong; he makes his way already. " "The other ducklings are graceful enough, " said the old Duck. "Makeyourself at home; and if you find an eel's head, you may bring it me. " And now they were at home. But the poor Duckling which had crept lastout of the egg, and looked so ugly, was bitten and pushed and jeered, asmuch by the ducks as by the chickens. "It is too big!" they all said. And the turkey-cock, who had been bornwith spurs, and therefore thought himself an Emperor, blew himself uplike a ship in full sail, and bore straight down upon it; then hegobbled, and grew quite red in the face. The poor Duckling did not knowwhere it should stand or walk; it was quite melancholy, because itlooked ugly and was scoffed at by the whole yard. So it went on the first day; and afterward it became worse and worse. The poor Duckling was hunted about by every one; even its brothers andsisters were quite angry with it, and said, "If the cat would only catchyou, you ugly creature!" And the mother said, "If you were only faraway!" And the ducks bit it, and the chickens beat it, and the girl whohad to feed the poultry kicked at it with her foot. Then it ran and flew over the fence, and the little birds in the bushesflew up in fear. "That is because I am so ugly!" thought the Duckling; and it shut itseyes, but flew no farther; thus it came out into the great moor, wherethe Wild Ducks lived. Here it lay the whole night long; and it was wearyand downcast. Toward morning the Wild Ducks flew up, and looked at their newcompanion. "What sort of a one are you?" they asked; and the Duckling turned inevery direction, and bowed as well as it could. "You are remarkablyugly!" said the Wild Ducks. "But that is very indifferent to us, so longas you do not marry into our family. " Poor thing! It certainly did not think of marrying, and only hoped toobtain leave to lie among the reeds and drink some of the swamp-water. Thus it lay two whole days; then came thither two Wild Geese, or, properly speaking, two wild ganders. It was not long since each hadcrept out of an egg, and that's why they were so saucy. "Listen, comrade, " said one of them. "You're so ugly that I like you. Will you go with us, and become a bird of passage? Near here, in anothermoor, there are a few sweet lovely wild geese, all unmarried, and allable to say, 'Rap!' You've a chance of making your fortune, ugly as youare!" "Piff! paff!" resounded through the air; and the two ganders fell downdead in the swamp, and the water became blood-red. "Piff! paff!" itsounded again, and whole flocks of wild geese rose up from the reeds. And then there was another report. A great hunt was going on. Thehunters were lying in wait all round the moor, and some were evensitting up in the branches of the trees, which spread far over thereeds. The blue smoke rose up like clouds among the dark trees, and waswafted far away across the water; and the hunting dogs came--splash, splash!--into the swamp, and the rushes and the reeds bent down on everyside. That was a fright for the poor Duckling! It turned its head, andput it under its wing; but at that moment a frightful great dog stoodclose by the Duckling. His tongue hung far out of his mouth and his eyesgleamed horrible and ugly; he thrust out his nose close against theDuckling, showed his sharp teeth, and--splash, splash!--on he wentwithout seizing it. "Oh, Heaven be thanked!" sighed the Duckling. "I am so ugly that eventhe dog does not like to bite me!" And so it lay quite quiet, while the shots rattled through the reeds andgun after gun was fired. At last, late in the day, silence was restored;but the poor Duckling did not dare to rise up; it waited several hoursbefore it looked round, and then hastened away out of the moor as fastas it could. It ran on over field and meadow; there was such a stormraging that it was difficult to get from one place to another. Toward evening the Duck came to a little miserable peasant's hut. Thishut was so dilapidated that it did not know on which side it shouldfall; and that's why it remained standing. The storm whistled round theDuckling in such a way that the poor creature was obliged to sit down, to stand against it; and the tempest grew worse and worse. Then theDuckling noticed that one of the hinges of the door had given way, andthe door hung so slanting that the Duckling could slip through the crackinto the room; and it did so. Here lived a woman with her Tom Cat and her Hen. And the Tom Cat, whomshe called Sonnie, could arch his back and purr. He could even give outsparks; but for that one had to stroke his fur the wrong way. The Henhad quite little short legs, and therefore she was calledChickabiddy-shortshanks; she laid good eggs, and the woman loved her asher own child. In the morning the strange Duckling was at once noticed, and the Tom Catbegan to purr, and the Hen to cluck. "What's this?" said the woman, and looked all round; but she could notsee well, and therefore she thought the Duckling was a fat duck that hadstrayed. "This is a rare prize, " she said. "Now I shall have duck'seggs. I hope it is not a drake. We must try that. " And so the Duckling was admitted on trial for three weeks; but no eggscame. And the Tom Cat was master of the house, and the Hen was the lady, and they always said, "We and the world!" for they thought they werehalf the world, and by far the better half. The Duckling thought onemight have a different opinion, but the Hen would not allow it. "Can you lay eggs?" she asked. "No. " "Then you'll have the goodness to hold your tongue. " And the Tom Cat said, "Can you curve your back, and purr, and give outsparks?" "No. " "Then you cannot have any opinion of your own when sensible people arespeaking. " And the Duckling sat in a corner and was melancholy; then the fresh airand the sunshine streamed in; and it was seized with such a strangelonging to swim on the water that it could not help telling the Hen ofit. "What are you thinking of?" cried the Hen. "You have nothing to do;that's why you have these fancies. Purr or lay eggs, and they will passover. " "But it is so charming to swim on the water!" said the Duckling, "sorefreshing to let it close above one's head, and to dive down to thebottom. " "Yes, that must be a mighty pleasure, truly, " quoth the Hen. "I fancyyou must have gone crazy. Ask the Cat about it--he's the cleverestanimal I know--ask him if he likes to swim on the water, or to divedown: I won't speak about myself. Ask our mistress, the old woman; noone in the world is cleverer than she. Do you think she has any desireto swim, and to let the water close above her head?" "You don't understand me, " said the Duckling. "We don't understand you? Then pray who is to understand you? You surelydon't pretend to be cleverer than the Tom Cat and the old woman--I won'tsay anything of myself. Don't be conceited, child, and be grateful forall the kindness you have received. Did you not get into a warm room, and have you not fallen into company from which you may learn something?But you are a chatterer, and it is not pleasant to associate with you. You may believe me, I speak for your good. I tell you disagreeablethings, and by that one may always know one's true friends. Only takecare that you learn to lay eggs, or to purr and give out sparks!" "I think I will go out into the wide world, " said the Duckling. "Yes, do go, " replied the Hen. And the Duckling went away. It swam on the water, and dived, but it wasslighted by every creature because of its ugliness. Now came the autumn. The leaves in the forest turned yellow and brown;the wind caught them so that they danced about, and up in the air it wasvery cold. The clouds hung low, heavy with hail and snow-flakes, and onthe fence stood the raven, crying, "Croak! croak!" for mere cold; yes, it was enough to make one feel cold to think of this. The poor littleDuckling certainly had not a good time. One evening--the sun was justsetting in his beauty--there came a whole flock of great handsome birdsout of the bushes; they were dazzlingly white, with long flexible necks;they were swans. They uttered a very peculiar cry, spread forth theirglorious great wings, and flew away from that cold region to warmerlands, to fair open lakes. They mounted so high, so high! and the uglylittle Duckling felt quite strange as it watched them. It turned roundand round in the water like a wheel, stretched out its neck toward them, and uttered such a strange loud cry as frightened itself. Oh! it couldnot forget those beautiful, happy birds; and so soon as it could seethem no longer, it dived down to the very bottom, and when it came upagain, it was quite beside itself. It knew not the name of those birds, and knew not whither they were flying; but it loved them more than ithad ever loved anyone. It was not at all envious of them. How could itthink of wishing to possess such loveliness as they had? It would havebeen glad if only the ducks would have endured its company--the poorugly creature! And the winter grew cold, very cold! The Duckling was forced to swimabout in the water, to prevent the surface from freezing entirely; butevery night the hole in which it swam about became smaller and smaller. It froze so hard that the icy covering crackled again; and the Ducklingwas obliged to use its legs continually to prevent the hole fromfreezing up. At last it became exhausted, and lay quite still, and thusfroze fast into the ice. Early in the morning a peasant came by, and when he saw what hadhappened, he took his wooden shoe, broke the ice-crust to pieces, andcarried the Duckling home to his wife. Then it came to itself again. Thechildren wanted to play with it; but the Duckling thought they would doit an injury, and in its terror fluttered up into the milk-pan, so thatthe milk spurted down into the room. The woman clapped her hands, atwhich the Duckling flew down into the butter-tub, and then into themeal-barrel and out again. How it looked then! The woman screamed, andstruck at it with the fire-tongs; the children tumbled over one anotherin their efforts to catch the Duckling; and they laughed and screamedfinely. Happily the door stood open, and the poor creature was able toslip out between the shrubs into the newly-fallen snow; and there itlay quite exhausted. But it would be too melancholy if I were to tell all the misery and carewhich the Duckling had to endure in the hard winter. It lay out on themoor among the reeds when the sun began to shine again and the larks tosing; it was a beautiful spring. Then all at once the Duckling could flap its wings; they beat the airmore strongly than before, and bore it strongly away; and before it wellknew how all this had happened, it found itself in a great garden, wherethe elder trees smelt sweet, and bent their long green branches down tothe canal that wound through the region. Oh, here it was so beautiful, such a gladness of spring! and from the thicket came three gloriouswhite swans; they rustled their wings, and swam lightly on the water. The Duckling knew the splendid creatures, and felt oppressed by apeculiar sadness. "I will fly away to them, to the royal birds! and they will kill me, because I, that am so ugly, dare to approach them. But it is of noconsequence! Better to be killed by _them_ than to be pursued by ducks, and beaten by fowls, and pushed about by the girl who takes care of thepoultry-yard, and to suffer hunger in winter!" And it flew out into thewater, and swam toward the beautiful swans: these looked at it, and camesailing down upon it with outspread wings. "Kill me!" said the poorcreature, and bent its head down upon the water, expecting nothing butdeath. But what was this that it saw in the clear water? It beheld itsown image--and, lo! it was no longer a clumsy dark-gray bird, ugly andhateful to look at, but--a swan. It matters nothing if one was born in a duck-yard, if one has only lainin a swan's egg. It felt quite glad at all the need and misfortune it had suffered, nowit realized its happiness in all the splendor that surrounded it. Andthe great swans swam round it, and stroked it with their beaks. Into the garden came little children, who threw bread and corn into thewater; the youngest cried, "There is a new one!" and the other childrenshouted joyously, "Yes, a new one has arrived!" And they clapped theirhands and danced about, and ran to their father and mother; and breadand cake were thrown into the water; and they all said, "The new one isthe most beautiful of all! so young and handsome!" and the old swansbowed their heads before him. Then he felt quite ashamed, and hid his head under his wing, for he didnot know what to do; he was so happy, and yet not at all proud. Hethought how he had been persecuted and despised; and now he heard themsaying that he was the most beautiful of all the birds. Even the eldertree bent its branches straight down into the water before him, and thesun shone warm and mild. Then his wings rustled, he lifted his slenderneck, and cried rejoicingly from the depths of his heart: "I never dreamed of so much happiness when I was still the UglyDuckling!" 199 One of the really successful modern attempts at telling new fairy stories was _Granny's Wonderful Chair_ (1857) by the blind poet Frances Browne (1816-1887). In spite of the obstacles due to blindness, poverty, and ill-health, she succeeded in educating herself, and after achieving some fame as a poet left her mountain village in county Donegal, Ireland, to make a literary career in Edinburgh and London. She published many volumes of poems, novels, and children's books. Only one of these is now much read or remembered, but it has taken a firm place in the affections of children. In _Granny's Wonderful Chair_ there are seven stories, set in an interesting framework which tells of the adventures of the little girl Snowflower and her chair at the court of King Winwealth. This chair had magic power to transport Snowflower wherever she wished to go, like the magic carpet in the _Arabian Nights_. When she laid down her head and said, "Chair of my grandmother, tell me a story, " a clear voice from under the cushion would at once begin to speak. Besides the story that follows, two of the most satisfactory in the collection are "The Greedy Shepherd" and "The Story of Merrymind. " Perhaps one of the secrets of their charm is in the power of visualization which the author possessed. The pictures are all clear and definite, yet touched with the glamor of fairyland. THE STORY OF FAIRYFOOT FRANCES BROWNE Once upon a time there stood far away in the west country a town calledStumpinghame. It contained seven windmills, a royal palace, a marketplace, and a prison, with every other convenience befitting the capitalof a kingdom. A capital city was Stumpinghame, and its inhabitantsthought it the only one in the world. It stood in the midst of a greatplain, which for three leagues round its walls was covered with corn, flax, and orchards. Beyond that lay a great circle of pasture land, seven leagues in breadth, and it was bounded on all sides by a forest sothick and old that no man in Stumpinghame knew its extent; and theopinion of the learned was that it reached to the end of the world. There were strong reasons for this opinion. First, that forest was knownto be inhabited time out of mind by the fairies, and no hunter cared togo beyond its border--so all the west country believed it to be solidlyfull of old trees to the heart. Secondly, the people of Stumpinghamewere no travelers--man, woman, and child had feet so large and heavythat it was by no means convenient to carry them far. Whether it was thenature of the place or the people, I cannot tell, but great feet hadbeen the fashion there time immemorial, and the higher the family thelarger were they. It was, therefore, the aim of everybody above thedegree of shepherds, and such-like rustics, to swell out and enlargetheir feet by way of gentility; and so successful were they in theseundertakings that, on a pinch, respectable people's slippers would haveserved for panniers. Stumpinghame had a king of its own, and his name was Stiffstep; hisfamily was very ancient and large-footed. His subjects called him Lordof the World, and he made a speech to them every year concerning thegrandeur of his mighty empire. His queen, Hammerheel, was the greatestbeauty in Stumpinghame. Her majesty's shoe was not much less than afishing-boat; their six children promised to be quite as handsome, andall went well with them till the birth of their seventh son. For a long time nobody about the palace could understand what was thematter--the ladies-in-waiting looked so astonished, and the king sovexed; but at last it was whispered through the city that the queen'sseventh child had been born with such miserably small feet that theyresembled nothing ever seen or heard of in Stumpinghame, except the feetof the fairies. The chronicles furnished no example of such an affliction ever beforehappening in the royal family. The common people thought it portendedsome great calamity to the city; the learnèd men began to write booksabout it; and all the relations of the king and queen assembled at thepalace to mourn with them over their singular misfortune. The wholecourt and most of the citizens helped in this mourning, but when it hadlasted seven days they all found out it was of no use. So the relationswent to their homes, and the people took to their work. If the learnèdmen's books were written, nobody ever read them; and to cheer up thequeen's spirits, the young prince was sent privately out to the pasturelands, to be nursed among the shepherds. The chief man there was called Fleecefold, and his wife's name was RoughRuddy. They lived in a snug cottage with their son Blackthorn and theirdaughter Brownberry, and were thought great people, because they keptthe king's sheep. Moreover, Fleecefold's family were known to beancient; and Rough Ruddy boasted that she had the largest feet in allthe pastures. The shepherds held them in high respect, and it grew stillhigher when the news spread that the king's seventh son had been sent totheir cottage. People came from all quarters to see the young prince, and great were the lamentations over his misfortune in having such smallfeet. The king and queen had given him fourteen names, beginning withAugustus--such being the fashion in that royal family; but the honestcountry people could not remember so many; besides, his feet were themost remarkable thing about the child, so with one accord they calledhim Fairyfoot. At first it was feared this might be high treason, butwhen no notice was taken by the king or his ministers, the shepherdsconcluded it was no harm, and the boy never had another name throughoutthe pastures. At court it was not thought polite to speak of him at all. They did not keep his birthday, and he was never sent for at Christmas, because the queen and her ladies could not bear the sight. Once a yearthe undermost scullion was sent to see how he did, with a bundle of hisnext brother's cast-off clothes; and, as the king grew old and cross, itwas said he had thoughts of disowning him. So Fairyfoot grew in Fleecefold's cottage. Perhaps the country air madehim fair and rosy--for all agreed that he would have been a handsome boybut for his small feet, with which nevertheless he learned to walk, andin time to run and to jump, thereby amazing everybody, for such doingswere not known among the children of Stumpinghame. The news of court, however, traveled to the shepherds, and Fairyfoot was despised amongthem. The old people thought him unlucky; the children refused to playwith him. Fleecefold was ashamed to have him in his cottage, but hedurst not disobey the king's orders. Moreover, Blackthorn wore most ofthe clothes brought by the scullion. At last, Rough Ruddy found out thatthe sight of such horrid jumping would make her children vulgar; and, assoon as he was old enough, she sent Fairyfoot every day to watch somesickly sheep that grazed on a wild, weedy pasture, hard by the forest. Poor Fairyfoot was often lonely and sorrowful; many a time he wished hisfeet would grow larger, or that people wouldn't notice them so much; andall the comfort he had was running and jumping by himself in the wildpasture, and thinking that none of the shepherds' children could do thelike, for all their pride of their great feet. Tired of this sport, he was lying in the shadow of a mossy rock one warmsummer's noon, with the sheep feeding around, when a robin, pursued by agreat hawk, flew into the old velvet cap which lay on the ground besidehim. Fairyfoot covered it up, and the hawk, frightened by his shout, flew away. "Now you may go, poor robin!" he said, opening the cap: but instead ofthe bird, out sprang a little man dressed in russet-brown, and lookingas if he were an hundred years old. Fairyfoot could not speak forastonishment, but the little man said-- "Thank you for your shelter, and be sure I will do as much for you. Callon me if you are ever in trouble; my name is Robin Goodfellow"; anddarting off, he was out of sight in an instant. For days the boywondered who that little man could be, but he told nobody, for thelittle man's feet were as small as his own, and it was clear he would beno favorite in Stumpinghame. Fairyfoot kept the story to himself, and atlast midsummer came. That evening was a feast among the shepherds. Therewere bonfires on the hills, and fun in the villages. But Fairyfoot satalone beside his sheepfold, for the children of his village had refusedto let him dance with them about the bonfire, and he had gone there tobewail the size of his feet, which came between him and so many goodthings. Fairyfoot had never felt so lonely in all his life, andremembering the little man, he plucked up spirit, and cried-- "Ho! Robin Goodfellow!" "Here I am, " said a shrill voice at his elbow; and there stood thelittle man himself. "I am very lonely, and no one will play with me, because my feet are notlarge enough, " said Fairyfoot. "Come then and play with us, " said the little man. "We lead the merriestlives in the world, and care for nobody's feet; but all companies havetheir own manners, and there are two things you must mind among us:first, do as you see the rest doing; and secondly, never speak ofanything you may hear or see, for we and the people of this country havehad no friendship ever since large feet came in fashion. " "I will do that, and anything more you like, " said Fairyfoot; and thelittle man, taking his hand, led him over the pasture into the forestand along a mossy path among old trees wreathed with ivy (he never knewhow far), till they heard the sound of music and came upon a meadowwhere the moon shone as bright as day, and all the flowers of theyear--snowdrops, violets, primroses, and cowslips--bloomed together inthe thick grass. There were a crowd of little men and women, some cladin russet color, but far more in green, dancing round a little well asclear as crystal. And under great rose-trees which grew here and therein the meadow, companies were sitting round low tables covered with cupsof milk, dishes of honey, and carved wooden flagons filled with clearred wine. The little man led Fairyfoot up to the nearest table, handedhim one of the flagons, and said-- "Drink to the good company. " Wine was not very common among the shepherds of Stumpinghame, and theboy had never tasted such drink as that before; for scarcely had it gonedown when he forgot all his troubles--how Blackthorn and Brownberry worehis clothes, how Rough Ruddy sent him to keep the sickly sheep, and thechildren would not dance with him: in short, he forgot the wholemisfortune of his feet, and it seemed to his mind that he was a king'sson, and all was well with him. All the little people about the wellcried--"Welcome! welcome!" and every one said--"Come and dance with me!"So Fairyfoot was as happy as a prince, and drank milk and ate honey tillthe moon was low in the sky, and then the little man took him by thehand, and never stopped nor stayed till he was at his own bed of strawin the cottage corner. Next morning Fairyfoot was not tired for all his dancing. Nobody in thecottage had missed him, and he went out with the sheep as usual; butevery night all that summer, when the shepherds were safe in bed, thelittle man came and took him away to dance in the forest. Now he did notcare to play with the shepherds' children, nor grieve that his fatherand mother had forgotten him, but watched the sheep all day, singing tohimself or plaiting rushes; and when the sun went down, Fairyfoot'sheart rejoiced at the thought of meeting that merry company. The wonder was that he was never tired nor sleepy, as people are apt tobe who dance all night; but before the summer was ended Fairyfoot foundout the reason. One night, when the moon was full, and the last of theripe corn rustling in the fields, Robin Goodfellow came for him asusual, and away they went to the flowery green. The fun there was high, and Robin was in haste. So he only pointed to the carved cup from whichFairyfoot every night drank the clear red wine. "I am not thirsty, and there is no use losing time, " thought the boy tohimself, and he joined the dance; but never in all his life didFairyfoot find such hard work as to keep pace with the company. Theirfeet seemed to move like lightning, the swallows did not fly so fast orturn so quickly. Fairyfoot did his best, for he never gave in easily, but at length, his breath and strength being spent, the boy was glad tosteal away and sit down behind a mossy oak, where his eyes closed forvery weariness. When he awoke the dance was nearly over, but two littleladies clad in green talked close beside him. "What a beautiful boy!" said one of them. "He is worthy to be a king'sson. Only see what handsome feet he has!" "Yes, " said the other, with a laugh, that sounded spiteful; "they arejust like the feet Princess Maybloom had before she washed them in theGrowing Well. Her father has sent far and wide throughout the wholecountry searching for a doctor to make them small again, but nothing inthis world can do it except the water of the Fair Fountain, and none butI and the nightingales know where it is. " "One would not care to let the like be known, " said the first littlelady: "there would come such crowds of these great coarse creatures ofmankind, nobody would have peace for leagues round. But you will surelysend word to the sweet princess!--she was so kind to our birds andbutterflies, and danced so like one of ourselves!" "Not I, indeed!" said the spiteful fairy. "Her old skinflint of a fathercut down the cedar which I loved best in the whole forest, and made achest of it to hold his money in; besides, I never liked theprincess--everybody praised her so. But come, we shall be too late forthe last dance. " When they were gone, Fairyfoot could sleep no more with astonishment. Hedid not wonder at the fairies admiring his feet, because their own weremuch the same; but it amazed him that Princess Maybloom's father shouldbe troubled at hers growing large. Moreover, he wished to see that sameprincess and her country, since there were really other places in theworld than Stumpinghame. When Robin Goodfellow came to take him home as usual he durst not lethim know that he had overheard anything; but never was the boy sounwilling to get up as on that morning, and all day he was so weary thatin the afternoon Fairyfoot fell asleep, with his head on a clump ofrushes. It was seldom that any one thought of looking after him and thesickly sheep; but it so happened that towards evening the old shepherd, Fleecefold, thought he would see how things went on in the pastures. Theshepherd had a bad temper and a thick staff, and no sooner did he catchsight of Fairyfoot sleeping, and his flock straying away, than shoutingall the ill names he could remember, in a voice which woke up the boy, he ran after him as fast as his great feet would allow; while Fairyfoot, seeing no other shelter from his fury, fled into the forest, and neverstopped nor stayed till he reached the banks of a little stream. Thinking it might lead him to the fairies' dancing-ground, he followedthat stream for many an hour, but it wound away into the heart of theforest, flowing through dells, falling over mossy rocks, and at lastleading Fairyfoot, when he was tired and the night had fallen, to agrove of great rose-trees, with the moon shining on it as bright as day, and thousands of nightingales singing in the branches. In the midst ofthat grove was a clear spring, bordered with banks of lilies, andFairyfoot sat down by it to rest himself and listen. The singing was sosweet he could have listened for ever, but as he sat the nightingalesleft off their songs, and began to talk together in the silence of thenight. "What boy is that, " said one on a branch above him, "who sits so lonelyby the Fair Fountain? He cannot have come from Stumpinghame with suchsmall and handsome feet. " "No, I'll warrant you, " said another, "he has come from the westcountry. How in the world did he find the way?" "How simple you are!" said a third nightingale. "What had he to do butfollow the ground-ivy which grows over height and hollow, bank and bush, from the lowest gate of the king's kitchen garden to the root of thisrose-tree? He looks a wise boy, and I hope he will keep the secret, orwe shall have all the west country here, dabbling in our fountain, andleaving us no rest to either talk or sing. " Fairyfoot sat in great astonishment at this discourse, but by and by, when the talk ceased and the songs began, he thought it might be as wellfor him to follow the ground-ivy, and see the Princess Maybloom, not tospeak of getting rid of Rough Ruddy, the sickly sheep, and the crustyold shepherd. It was a long journey; but he went on, eating wildberries by day, sleeping in the hollows of old trees by night, and neverlosing sight of the ground-ivy, which led him over height and hollow, bank and bush, out of the forest, and along a noble high road, withfields and villages on every side, to a great city, and a lowold-fashioned gate of the king's kitchen-garden, which was thought toomean for the scullions, and had not been opened for seven years. There was no use knocking--the gate was overgrown with tall weeds andmoss; so, being an active boy, he climbed over, and walked through thegarden, till a white fawn came frisking by, and he heard a soft voicesaying sorrowfully-- "Come back, come back, my fawn! I cannot run and play with you now, myfeet have grown so heavy"; and looking round he saw the loveliest youngprincess in the world, dressed in snow-white, and wearing a wreath ofroses on her golden hair; but walking slowly, as the great people did inStumpinghame, for her feet were as large as the best of them. After her came six young ladies, dressed in white and walking slowly, for they could not go before the princess; but Fairyfoot was amazed tosee that their feet were as small as his own. At once he guessed thatthis must be the Princess Maybloom, and made her an humble bow, saying-- "Royal princess, I have heard of your trouble because your feet havegrown large; in my country that's all the fashion. For seven years pastI have been wondering what would make mine grow, to no purpose; but Iknow of a certain fountain that will make yours smaller and finer thanever they were, if the king, your father, gives you leave to come withme, accompanied by two of your maids that are the least given totalking, and the most prudent officer in all his household; for it wouldgrievously offend the fairies and the nightingales to make that fountainknown. " When the princess heard that, she danced for joy in spite of her largefeet, and she and her six maids brought Fairyfoot before the king andqueen, where they sat in their palace hall, with all the courtierspaying their morning compliments. The lords were very much astonished tosee a ragged, bare-footed boy brought in among them, and the ladiesthought Princess Maybloom must have gone mad; but Fairyfoot, making anhumble reverence, told his message to the king and queen, and offered toset out with the princess that very day. At first the king would notbelieve that there could be any use in his offer, because so many greatphysicians had failed to give any relief. The courtiers laughedFairyfoot to scorn, the pages wanted to turn him out for an impudentimpostor, and the prime minister said he ought to be put to death forhigh treason. Fairyfoot wished himself safe in the forest again, or even keeping thesickly sheep; but the queen, being a prudent woman, said-- "I pray your majesty to notice what fine feet this boy has. There may besome truth in his story. For the sake of our only daughter, I willchoose two maids who talk the least of all our train, and mychamberlain, who is the most discreet officer in our household. Let themgo with the princess; who knows but our sorrow may be lessened?" After some persuasion the king consented, though all his councillorsadvised the contrary. So the two silent maids, the discreetchamberlain, and her fawn, which would not stay behind, were sent withPrincess Maybloom, and they all set out after dinner. Fairyfoot had hardwork guiding them along the track of the ground-ivy. The maids and thechamberlain did not like the brambles and rough roots of theforest--they thought it hard to eat berries and sleep in hollow trees;but the princess went on with good courage, and at last they reached thegrove of rose-trees, and the spring bordered with lilies. The chamberlain washed--and though his hair had been grey, and his facewrinkled, the young courtiers envied his beauty for years after. Themaids washed--and from that day they were esteemed the fairest in allthe palace. Lastly, the princess washed also--it could make her nofairer, but the moment her feet touched the water they grew less, andwhen she had washed and dried them three times, they were as small andfinely-shaped as Fairyfoot's own. There was great joy among them, butthe boy said sorrowfully-- "Oh! if there had been a well in the world to make my feet large, myfather and mother would not have cast me off, nor sent me to live amongthe shepherds. " "Cheer up your heart, " said the Princess Maybloom; "if you want largefeet, there is a well in this forest that will do it. Last summer time Icame with my father and his foresters to see a great cedar cut down, ofwhich he meant to make a money chest. While they were busy with thecedar, I saw a bramble branch covered with berries. Some were ripe andsome were green, but it was the longest bramble that ever grew; for thesake of the berries, I went on and on to its root, which grew hard by amuddy-looking well, with banks of dark green moss, in the deepest partof the forest. The day was warm and dry and my feet were sore with therough ground, so I took off my scarlet shoes and washed my feet in thewell; but as I washed they grew larger every minute, and nothing couldever make them less again. I have seen the bramble this day; it is notfar off, and as you have shown me the Fair Fountain, I will show you theGrowing Well. " Up rose Fairyfoot and Princess Maybloom, and went together till theyfound the bramble, and came to where its root grew, hard by themuddy-looking well, with banks of dark green moss in the deepest dell ofthe forest. Fairyfoot sat down to wash, but at that minute he heard asound of music, and knew it was the fairies going to their dancingground. "If my feet grow large, " said the boy to himself, "how shall I dancewith them?" So, rising quickly, he took the Princess Maybloom by thehand. The fawn followed them; the maids and the chamberlain followed it, and all followed the music through the forest. At last they came to theflowery green. Robin Goodfellow welcomed the company for Fairyfoot'ssake, and gave every one a drink of the fairies' wine. So they dancedthere from sunset till the grey morning, and nobody was tired; butbefore the lark sang, Robin Goodfellow took them all safe home, as heused to take Fairyfoot. There was great joy that day in the palace because Princess Maybloom'sfeet were made small again. The king gave Fairyfoot all manner of fineclothes and rich jewels; and when they heard his wonderful story, he andthe queen asked him to live with them and be their son. In process oftime Fairyfoot and Princess Maybloom were married, and still livehappily. When they go to visit at Stumpinghame, they always wash theirfeet in the Growing Well, lest the royal family might think them adisgrace, but when they come back, they make haste to the Fair Fountain;and the fairies and the nightingales are great friends to them, as wellas the maids and the chamberlain, because they have told nobody aboutit, and there is peace and quiet yet in the grove of rose-trees. 200 The ill-fated Oscar Wilde (1856-1900) was born in Ireland, was educated at Oxford, came into great notoriety as the reputed leader of the "aesthetic movement, " was prominent in the London literary world from 1885 to 1895, fell under the obloquy of most of his countrymen, and died in distressing circumstances in Paris. In addition to some remarkable plays, poems, and prose books, he wrote a number of unusual stories especially fascinating to children, which were collected under the title _The Happy Prince, and Other Tales_. These stories were at once recognized as classic in quality. While they contain much implied criticism of certain features of modern civilization, the whole tone is so idealistic and the workmanship so fine that they convey no strong note of bitterness to the child. "The Happy Prince" suggests that Wilde saw on the one hand "the white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets"; while on the other hand he saw the Pyramids, marble angels sculptured on the cathedral tower, and the gold-covered statue of the Prince of the Palace of the Care-Free. Wilde also suggests a remedy for the starvation and wretchedness that exist, especially among children, in most cities where great wealth is displayed. The important thing in presenting this story to children is to get the full sympathetic response due to the sacrifice made by the Happy Prince and the little swallow. So much of the effect depends upon the wonderful beauty of the language that teachers will, as a rule, get better results from reading or reciting than from any kind of oral paraphrase. Another story in this same volume widely and successfully used by teachers is the one called "The Selfish Giant. " THE HAPPY PRINCE OSCAR WILDE High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the HappyPrince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyeshe had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on hissword-hilt. He was very much admired indeed. "He is as beautiful as a weathercock, "remarked one of the Town Councillors who wished to gain a reputation forhaving artistic tastes; "only not quite so useful, " he added, fearinglest people should think him unpractical, which he really was not. "Why can't you be like the Happy Prince?" asked a sensible mother of herlittle boy who was crying for the moon. "The Happy Prince never dreamsof crying for anything. " "I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy, " muttereda disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue. "He looks just like an angel, " said the Charity Children as they cameout of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks and their cleanwhite pinafores. "How do you know?" said the Mathematical Master; "you have never seenone. " "Ah! but we have, in our dreams, " answered the children; and theMathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did notapprove of children dreaming. One night there flew over the city a Little Swallow. His friends hadgone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, for hewas in love with the most beautiful Reed. He had met her early in thespring as he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and hadbeen so attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk toher. "Shall I love you?" said the Swallow, who liked to come to the point atonce, and the Reed made him a low bow. So he flew round and round her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples. This washis courtship, and it lasted all through the summer. "It is a ridiculous attachment, " twittered the other Swallows; "she hasno money, and far too many relations"; and indeed the river was quitefull of Reeds. Then when the autumn came they all flew away. After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his lady-love. "She has no conversation, " he said, "and I am afraid that she is acoquette, for she is always flirting with the wind. " And certainly, whenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful curtseys. "Iadmit that she is domestic, " he continued, "but I love traveling, and mywife, consequently, should love traveling also. " "Will you come away with me?" he said finally to her; but the Reed shookher head, she was so attached to her home. "You have been trifling with me, " he cried. "I am off to the Pyramids. Good-bye!" and he flew away. All day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived at the city. "Whereshall I put up?" he said; "I hope the town has made preparations. " Then he saw the statue on the tall column. "I will put up there, " he cried; "it is a fine position, with plenty offresh air. " So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince. "I have a golden bedroom, " he said softly to himself as he looked round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was putting his headunder his wing a large drop of water fell on him. "What a curiousthing!" he cried; "there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars arequite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the northof Europe is really dreadful. The Reed used to like the rain, but thatwas merely her selfishness. " Then another drop fell. "What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?" he said;"I must look for a good chimney-pot, " and he determined to fly away. But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up, and saw--Ah! what did he see? The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears wererunning down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in themoonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity. "Who are you?" he said. "I am the Happy Prince. " "Why are you weeping then?" asked the Swallow; "you have quite drenchedme. " "When I was alive and had a human heart, " answered the statue, "I didnot know what tears were, for I lived in the Palace of Sans-Souci, wheresorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime I played with mycompanions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in theGreat Hall. Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared toask what lay beyond it, everything about me was so beautiful. Mycourtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was, ifpleasure be happiness. So I lived, and so I died. And now that I am deadthey have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and allthe misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannotchoose but weep. " "What! is he not solid gold?" said the Swallow to himself. He was toopolite to make any personal remarks out loud. "Far away, " continued the statue in a low musical voice, "far away in alittle street there is a poor house. One of the windows is open, andthrough it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin andworn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for sheis a seamstress. She is embroidering passion-flowers on a satin gown forthe loveliest of the Queen's maids-of-honor to wear at the nextCourt-ball. In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lyingill. He has a fever, and is asking for oranges. His mother has nothingto give him but river water, so he is crying. Swallow, Swallow, littleSwallow, will you not take her the ruby out of my sword-hilt? My feetare fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move. " "I am waited for in Egypt, " said the Swallow. "My friends are flying upand down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus-flowers. Soon theywill go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is therehimself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow linen, andembalmed with spices. Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade, andhis hands are like withered leaves. " "Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, " said the Prince, "will you not staywith me for one night, and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty, andthe mother so sad. " "I don't think I like boys, " answered the Swallow. "Last summer, when Iwas staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller's sons, who were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of course; weswallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a familyfamous for its agility; but still, it was a mark of disrespect. " But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry. "It is very cold here, " he said; "but I will stay with you for onenight, and be your messenger. " "Thank you, little Swallow, " said the Prince. So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince's sword, andflew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town. He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels weresculptured. He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing. Abeautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover. "How wonderfulthe stars are, " he said to her, "and how wonderful is the power oflove!" "I hope my dress will be ready in time for the State-ball, " sheanswered; "I have ordered passion-flowers to be embroidered on it; butthe seamstresses are so lazy. " He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns hanging to the masts ofthe ships. He passed over the Ghetto, and saw the old Jews bargainingwith each other, and weighing out money in copper scales. At last hecame to the poor house and looked in. The boy was tossing feverishly onhis bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired. In hehopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman's thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy's forehead with hiswings. "How cool I feel, " said the boy. "I must be getting better"; andhe sank into a delicious slumber. Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he haddone. "It is curious, " he remarked, "but I feel quite warm now, althoughit is so cold. " "That is because you have done a good action, " said the Prince. And thelittle Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep. Thinking alwaysmade him sleepy. When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. "What aremarkable phenomenon, " said the Professor of Ornithology as he waspassing over the bridge. "A swallow in winter!" And he wrote a longletter about it to the local newspaper. Every one quoted it, it was fullof so many words that they could not understand. "To-night I go to Egypt, " said the Swallow, and he was in high spiritsat the prospect. He visited all the public monuments, and sat a longtime on top of the church steeple. Wherever he went the Sparrowschirruped, and said to each other, "What a distinguished stranger!" sohe enjoyed himself very much. When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. "Have you anycommissions for Egypt?" he cried; "I am just starting. " "Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, " said the Prince, "will you not staywith me one night longer?" "I am waited for in Egypt, " answered the Swallow. "To-morrow my friendswill fly up to the Second Cataract. The river-horse couches there amongthe bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God Memnon. Allnight long he watches the stars, and when the morning star shines heutters one cry of joy, and then he is silent. At noon the yellow lionscome down to the water's edge to drink. They have eyes like greenberyls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the cataract. " "Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, " said the Prince, "far away acrossthe city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a deskcovered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch ofwithered violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as apomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish aplay for the Director of the Theatre, but he is too cold to write anymore. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint. " "I will wait with you one night longer, " said the Swallow, who reallyhad a good heart. "Shall I take him another ruby?" "Alas! I have no ruby now, " said the Prince; "my eyes are all that Ihave left. They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out ofIndia a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and take it to him. Hewill sell it to the jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish hisplay. " "Dear Prince, " said the Swallow, "I cannot do that"; and he began toweep. "Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, " said the Prince, "do as I commandyou. " So the Swallow plucked out the Prince's eye, and flew away to thestudent's garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole inthe roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young manhad his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of thebird's wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphirelying on the withered violets. "I am beginning to be appreciated, " he cried; "this is from some greatadmirer. Now I can finish my play, " and he looked quite happy. The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbor. He sat on the mast ofa large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of thehold with ropes. "Heave a-hoy!" they shouted as each chest came up. "Iam going to Egypt!" cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when themoon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. "I am come to bid you good-bye, " he cried. "Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, " said the Prince, "will you not staywith me one night longer?" "It is winter, " answered the Swallow, "and the chill snow will soon behere. In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and thecrocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them. My companions arebuilding a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white dovesare watching them, and cooing to each other. Dear Prince, I must leaveyou, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will bring you backtwo beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away. The rubyshall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue asthe great sea. " "In the square below, " said the Happy Prince, "there stands a littlematch-girl. She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are allspoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some money, and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head isbare. Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and her father willnot beat her. " "I will stay with you one night longer, " said the Swallow, "but I cannotpluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then. " "Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, " said the Prince, "do as I commandyou. " So he plucked out the Prince's other eye, and darted down with it. Heswooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of herhand. "What a lovely bit of glass, " cried the little girl; and she ranhome, laughing. Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. "You are blind now, " he said, "so I will stay with you always. " "No, little Swallow, " said the poor Prince, "you must go away to Egypt. " "I will stay with you always, " said the Swallow, and he slept at thePrince's feet. All the next day he sat on the Prince's shoulder, and told him storiesof what he had seen in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises, whostand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch goldfish in theirbeaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and lives inthe desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly bythe side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of theKing of the Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as ebony, andworships a large crystal; of the great green snake that sleeps in apalm-tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey-cakes; and ofthe pygmies who sail over a big lake on large flat leaves, and arealways at war with the butterflies. "Dear little Swallow, " said the Prince, "you tell me of marvelousthings, but more marvelous than anything is the suffering of men and ofwomen. There is no Mystery so great as Misery. Fly over my city, littleSwallow, and tell me what you see there. " So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merryin their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving childrenlooking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the archway of abridge two little boys were lying in one another's arms to try to keepthemselves warm. "How hungry we are!" they said. "You must not liehere, " shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain. Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen. "I am covered with fine gold, " said the Prince; "you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that goldcan make them happy. " Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the HappyPrince looked quite dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold hebrought to the poor, and the children's faces grew rosier, and theylaughed and played games in the street. "We have bread now!" they cried. Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streetslooked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright andglistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eavesof the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys worescarlet caps and skated on the ice. The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leavethe Prince; he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside thebaker's door when the baker was not looking, and tried to keep himselfwarm by flapping his wings. But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength tofly up to the Prince's shoulder once more. "Good-bye, dear Prince!" hemurmured, "will you let me kiss your hand?" "I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow, " saidthe Prince. "You have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on thelips, for I love you. " "It is not to Egypt that I am going, " said the Swallow. "I am going tothe House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?" And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at hisfeet. At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as ifsomething had suddenly broken. The fact is that the leaden heart hadsnapped right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost. Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below incompany with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column he lookedup at the statue: "Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!" he said. "How shabby indeed!" cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed withthe Mayor; and they went up to look at it. "The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he isgolden no longer, " said the Mayor; "in fact, he is little better than abeggar!" "Little better than a beggar, " said the Town Councillors. "And here is actually a dead bird at his feet!" continued the Mayor. "We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowedto die here. " And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion. So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. "As he is no longerbeautiful he is no longer useful, " said the Art Professor at theUniversity. Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meetingof the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal. "Wemust have another statue, of course, " he said, "and it shall be a statueof myself. " "Of myself, " said each of the Town Councillors, and they quarrelled. When I last heard of them they were quarreling still. "What a strange thing!" said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry. "This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must throw itaway. " So they threw it on a dustheap where the dead Swallow was alsolying. "Bring me the two most precious things in the city, " said God to one ofHis Angels; and the Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the deadbird. "You have rightly chosen, " said God, "for in my garden of Paradise thislittle bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the HappyPrince shall praise me. " 201 Two stories of unusual interest and charm for children are found in the collection of eleven by Raymond M. Alden (1873--), _Why the Chimes Rang_. One is the title story of the volume; the other is "The Knights of the Silver Shield. " The latter follows by permission of the publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Co. , Indianapolis. (Copyright, 1906, 1908. ) It is of striking dramatic interest and emphasizes a much-needed quality of character, the importance of a loyal performance of the lowlier duties of life. The salvation of a nation may depend upon the humble guardian of the gate quite as much as upon those who are engaged in the more spectacular struggle with giants. Mr. Alden is a scholarly professor of literature in Leland Stanford Jr. University, and it may interest the reader to know that he is the son of the author of the _Pansy Books_, a type of religious or Sunday-school fiction widely read throughout the country by a generation or two of young people. THE KNIGHTS OF THE SILVER SHIELD RAYMOND MACDONALD ALDEN There was once a splendid castle in a forest, with great stone walls anda high gateway, and turrets that rose away above the tallest trees. Theforest was dark and dangerous, and many cruel giants lived in it; but inthe castle was a company of knights, who were kept there by the king ofthe country, to help travelers who might be in the forest and to fightwith the giants whenever they could. Each of these knights wore a beautiful suit of armor and carried a longspear, while over his helmet there floated a great red plume that couldbe seen a long way off by any one in distress. But the most wonderfulthing about the knights' armor was their shields. They were not likethose of other knights, but had been made by a great magician who hadlived in the castle many years before. They were made of silver, andsometimes shone in the sunlight with dazzling brightness; but at othertimes the surface of the shields would be clouded as though by a mist, and one could not see his face reflected there as he could when theyshone brightly. Now, when each young knight received his spurs and his armor, a newshield was also given him from among those that the magician had made;and when the shield was new its surface was always cloudy and dull. Butas the knight began to do service against the giants, or went onexpeditions to help poor travelers in the forest, his shield grewbrighter and brighter, so that he could see his face clearly reflectedin it. But if he proved to be a lazy or cowardly knight, and let thegiants get the better of him, or did not care what became of thetravelers, then the shield grew more and more cloudy, until the knightbecame ashamed to carry it. But this was not all. When any one of the knights fought a particularlyhard battle, and won the victory, or when he went on some hard errandfor the lord of the castle, and was successful, not only did his silvershield grow brighter, but when one looked into the center of it he couldsee something like a golden star shining in its very heart. This was thegreatest honor that a knight could achieve, and the other knights alwaysspoke of such a one as having "won his star. " It was usually not till hewas pretty old and tried as a soldier that he could win it. At the timewhen this story begins, the lord of the castle himself was the only oneof the knights whose shield bore the golden star. There came a time when the worst of the giants in the forest gatheredthemselves together to have a battle against the knights. They made acamp in a dark hollow not far from the castle, and gathered all theirbest warriors together, and all the knights made ready to fight them. The windows of the castle were closed and barred; the air was full ofthe noise of armor being made ready for use; and the knights were soexcited that they could scarcely rest or eat. Now there was a young knight in the castle, named Sir Roland, who wasamong those most eager for the battle. He was a splendid warrior, witheyes that shone like stars whenever there was anything to do in the wayof knightly deeds. And although he was still quite young, his shield hadbegun to shine enough to show plainly that he had done bravely in someof his errands through the forest. This battle, he thought, would be thegreat opportunity of his life. And on the morning of the day when theywere to go forth to it, and all the knights assembled in the great hallof the castle to receive the commands of their leaders, Sir Roland hopedthat he would be put in the most dangerous place of all, so that hecould show what knightly stuff he was made of. But when the lord of the castle came to him, as he went about in fullarmor giving his commands, he said: "One brave knight must stay behindand guard the gateway of the castle, and it is you, Sir Roland, beingone of the youngest, whom I have chosen for this. " At these words Sir Roland was so disappointed that he bit his lip andclosed his helmet over his face so that the other knights might not seeit. For a moment he felt as if he must reply angrily to the commanderand tell him that it was not right to leave so sturdy a knight behindwhen he was eager to fight. But he struggled against this feeling andwent quietly to look after his duties at the gate. The gateway was highand narrow, and was reached from outside by a high, narrow bridge thatcrossed the moat, which surrounded the castle on every side. When anenemy approached, the knight on guard rang a great bell just inside thegate, and the bridge was drawn up against the castle wall, so that noone could come across the moat. So the giants had long ago given uptrying to attack the castle itself. To-day the battle was to be in the dark hollow in the forest, and it wasnot likely that there would be anything to do at the castle gate, exceptto watch it like a common doorkeeper. It was not strange that Sir Rolandthought some one else might have done this. Presently all the other knights marched out in their flashing armor, their red plumes waving over their heads, and their spears in theirhands. The lord of the castle stopped only to tell Sir Roland to keepguard over the gate until they had all returned and to let no one enter. Then they went into the shadows of the forest and were soon lost tosight. Sir Roland stood looking after them long after they had gone, thinkinghow happy he would be if he were on the way to battle like them. Butafter a little he put this out of his mind and tried to think ofpleasanter things. It was a long time before anything happened, or anyword came from the battle. At last Sir Roland saw one of the knights come limping down the path tothe castle, and he went out on the bridge to meet him. Now this knightwas not a brave one, and he had been frightened away as soon as he waswounded. "I have been hurt, " he said, "so that I can not fight any more. But Icould watch the gate for you, if you would like to go back in my place. " At first Sir Roland's heart leaped with joy at this, but then heremembered what the commander had told him on going away, and he said: "I should like to go, but a knight belongs where his commander has puthim. My place is here at the gate, and I can not open it even for you. Your place is at the battle. " The knight was ashamed when he heard this, and he presently turned aboutand went into the forest again. So Sir Roland kept guard silently for another hour. Then there came anold beggar woman down the path to the castle and asked Sir Roland if shemight come in and have some food. He told her that no one could enterthe castle that day, but that he would send a servant out to her withfood, and that she might sit and rest as long as she would. "I have been past the hollow in the forest where the battle is goingon, " said the old woman, while she was waiting for her food. "And how do you think it is going?" asked Sir Roland. "Badly for the knights, I am afraid, " said the old woman. "The giantsare fighting as they have never fought before. I should think you hadbetter go and help your friends. " "I should like to, indeed, " said Sir Roland. "But I am set to guard thegateway of the castle and can not leave. " "One fresh knight would make a great difference when they are all wearywith fighting, " said the old woman. "I should think that, while thereare no enemies about, you would be much more useful there. " "You may well think so, " said Sir Roland, "and so may I; but it isneither you nor I that is commander here. " "I suppose, " said the old woman then, "that you are one of the kind ofknights who like to keep out of fighting. You are lucky to have so goodan excuse for staying at home. " And she laughed a thin and tauntinglaugh. Then Sir Roland was very angry, and thought that if it were only a maninstead of a woman, he would show him whether he liked fighting or no. But as it was a woman, he shut his lips and set his teeth hard together, and as the servant came just then with the food he had sent for, he gaveit to the old woman quickly and shut the gate that she might not talk tohim any more. It was not very long before he heard some one calling outside. SirRoland opened the gate and saw standing at the other end of thedrawbridge a little old man in a long black cloak. "Why are you knockinghere?" he said. "The castle is closed to-day. " "Are you Sir Roland?" said the little old man. "Yes, " said Sir Roland. "Then you ought not to be staying here when your commander and hisknights are having so hard a struggle with the giants, and when you havethe chance to make of yourself the greatest knight in this kingdom. Listen to me! I have brought you a magic sword. " As he said this, the old man drew from under his coat a wonderful swordthat flashed in the sunlight as if it were covered with diamonds. "Thisis the sword of all swords, " he said, "and it is for you, if you willleave your idling here by the castle gate and carry it to the battle. Nothing can stand before it. When you lift it the giants will fall back, your master will be saved, and you will be crowned the victoriousknight--the one who will soon take his commander's place as lord of thecastle. " Now Sir Roland believed that it was a magician who was speaking to him, for it certainly appeared to be a magic sword. It seemed so wonderfulthat the sword should be brought to him, that he reached out his hand asthough he would take it, and the little old man came forward, as thoughhe would cross the drawbridge into the castle. But as he did so, it cameto Sir Roland's mind again that that bridge and the gateway had beenintrusted to him, and he called out "No!" to the old man, so that hestopped where he was standing. But he waved the shining sword in the airagain, and said: "It is for you! Take it, and win the victory!" Sir Roland was really afraid that if he looked any longer at the swordor listened to any more words of the old man, he would not be able tohold himself within the castle. For this reason he struck the great bellat the gateway, which was the signal for the servants inside to pull inthe chains of the drawbridge, and instantly they began to pull, and thedrawbridge came up, so that the old man could not cross it to enter thecastle, nor Sir Roland to go out. Then, as he looked across the moat, Sir Roland saw a wonderful thing. The little old man threw off his black cloak, and as he did so he beganto grow bigger and bigger, until in a minute more he was a giant as tallas any in the forest. At first Sir Roland could scarcely believe hiseyes. Then he realized that this must be one of their giant enemies, whohad changed himself to a little old man through some magic power, thathe might make his way into the castle while all the knights were away. Sir Roland shuddered to think what might have happened if he had takenthe sword and left the gate unguarded. The giant shook his fist acrossthe moat that lay between them, and then, knowing that he could donothing more, he went angrily back into the forest. Sir Roland now resolved not to open the gate again, and to pay noattention to any other visitor. But it was not long before he heard asound that made him spring forward in joy. It was the bugle of the lordof the castle, and there came sounding after it the bugles of many ofthe knights that were with him, pealing so joyfully that Sir Roland wassure they were safe and happy. As they came nearer, he could hear theirshouts of victory. So he gave the signal to let down the drawbridgeagain, and went out to meet them. They were dusty and bloodstained andweary, but they had won the battle with the giants; and it had been sucha great victory that there had never been a happier home-coming. Sir Roland greeted them all as they passed in over the bridge, and then, when he had closed the gate and fastened it, he followed them into thegreat hall of the castle. The lord of the castle took his place on thehighest seat, with the other knights about him, and Sir Roland cameforward with the key of the gate, to give his account of what he haddone in the place to which the commander had appointed him. The lord ofthe castle bowed to him as a sign for him to begin, but just as heopened his mouth to speak, one of the knights cried out: "The shield! the shield! Sir Roland's shield!" Every one turned and looked at the shield which Sir Roland carried onhis left arm. He himself could see only the top of it and did not knowwhat they could mean. But what they saw was the golden star ofknighthood, shining brightly from the center of Sir Roland's shield. There had never been such amazement in the castle before. Sir Roland knelt before the lord of the castle to receive his commands. He still did not know why every one was looking at him so excitedly, andwondered if he had in some way done wrong. "Speak, Sir Knight, " said the commander, as soon as he could find hisvoice after his surprise, "and tell us all that has happened to-day atthe castle. Have you been attacked? Have any giants come hither? Did youfight them alone?" "No, my Lord, " said Sir Roland. "Only one giant has been here, and hewent away silently when he found he could not enter. " Then he told all that had happened through the day. When he had finished, the knights all looked at one another, but no onespoke a word. Then they looked again at Sir Roland's shield, to makesure that their eyes had not deceived them, and there the golden starwas still shining. After a little silence the lord of the castle spoke. "Men make mistakes, " he said, "but our silver shields are nevermistaken. Sir Roland has fought and won the hardest battle of allto-day. " Then the others all rose and saluted Sir Roland, who was the youngestknight that ever carried the golden star. 202 Jean Ingelow (1820-1897) was an English poet, novelist, and writer of stories for children, who lived in the fen district of Lincolnshire. Her most noted poem deals with a terrible catastrophe that happened there more than three centuries ago. It is called "The High Tide on the Coast of Lincolnshire. " Many reading books for the third or fourth grade contain her dainty and melodious "Seven Times One, " in which a little girl expresses the joy and sense of power felt on reaching a seventh birthday. Of her children's books, the favorite is _Mopsa the Fairy_, which some one has called a "delightful succession of breezy impossibilities. " Her shorter stories for children are collected under the title _Stories Told to a Child_ (two series), from which "The Prince's Dream" is taken. It is somewhat old fashioned in method and style, reminding one of the stories of the days of Addison and Steele. Its seriousness is in striking contrast with the more flippant note in much modern writing for children, and it is sure to suggest some questions on the dangers and advantages of great possessions in their effects on labor, liberty, and human happiness in general. However, the moral will take care of itself, and the attention should rest on the means used by the old man to teach the young prince the things he is shut out from learning by experience. The children will easily see that it is an anticipation of the moving-picture method. Some other good stories in the collection mentioned are "I Have a Right, " "The Fairy Who Judged Her Neighbors, " and "Anselmo. " THE PRINCE'S DREAM JEAN INGELOW If we may credit the fable, there is a tower in the midst of a greatAsiatic plain, wherein is confined a prince who was placed there in hisearliest infancy, with many slaves and attendants, and all the luxuriesthat are compatible with imprisonment. Whether he was brought there from some motive of state, whether toconceal him from enemies, or to deprive him of rights, has nottranspired; but it is certain that up to the date of this little historyhe had never set his foot outside the walls of that high tower, and thatof the vast world without he knew only the green plains which surroundedit; the flocks and the birds of that region were all his experience ofliving creatures, and all the men he saw outside were shepherds. And yet he was not utterly deprived of change, for sometimes one of hisattendants would be ordered away, and his place would be supplied by anew one. This fresh companion the prince would never weary ofquestioning, and letting him talk of cities, of ships, of forests, ofmerchandise, of kings; but though in turns they all tried to satisfy hiscuriosity, they could not succeed in conveying very distinct notions tohis mind; partly because there was nothing in the tower to which theycould compare the external world, partly because, having chiefly livedlives of seclusion and indolence in Eastern palaces, they knew it onlyby hearsay themselves. At length, one day, a venerable man of a noble presence was brought tothe tower, with soldiers to guard him and slaves to attend him. Theprince was glad of his presence, though at first he seldom opened hislips, and it was manifest that confinement made him miserable. Withrestless feet he would wander from window to window of the stone tower, and mount from story to story; but mount as high as he would there wasstill nothing to be seen but the vast unvarying plain, clothed withscanty grass, and flooded with the glaring sunshine; flocks and herds, and shepherds, moved across it sometimes, but nothing else, not even ashadow, for there was no cloud in the sky to cast one. The old man, however, always treated the prince with respect, andanswered his questions with a great deal of patience, till at length hefound a pleasure in satisfying his curiosity, which so much pleased theyoung prisoner, that, as a great condescension, he invited him to comeout on the roof of the tower and drink sherbet with him in the cool ofthe evening, and tell him of the country beyond the desert, and whatseas are like, and mountains, and towns. "I have learnt much from my attendants, and know this world pretty wellby hearsay, " said the prince, as they reclined on the rich carpet whichwas spread on the roof. The old man smiled, but did not answer; perhaps because he did not careto undeceive his young companion, perhaps because so many slaves werepresent, some of whom were serving them with fruit, and others burningrich odors on a little chafing-dish that stood between them. "But there are some words to which I never could attach any particularmeaning, " proceeded the prince, as the slaves began to retire, "andthree in particular that my attendants cannot satisfy me upon, or arereluctant to do so. " "What words are those, my prince?" asked the old man. The prince turnedon his elbow to be sure that the last slave had descended the towerstairs, then replied-- "O man of much knowledge, the words are these--Labor, and Liberty, andGold. " "Prince, " said the old man, "I do not wonder that it has been hard tomake thee understand the first, the nature of it, and the cause why mostmen are born to it; as for the second, it would be treason for thee andme to do more than whisper it here, and sigh for it when none arelistening; but the third need hardly puzzle thee, thy hookah is brightwith it; all thy jewels are set in it; gold is inlaid in the ivory ofthy bath; thy cup and thy dish are of gold, and golden threads arewrought into thy raiment. " "That is true, " replied the prince, "and if I had not seen and handledthis gold, perhaps I might not find its merits so hard to understand;but I possess it in abundance, and it does not feed me, nor make musicfor me, nor fan me when the sun is hot, nor cause me to sleep when I amweary; therefore when my slaves have told me how merchants go out andbrave the perilous wind and sea, and live in the unstable ships, and runrisks from shipwreck and pirates, and when, having asked them why theyhave done this, they have answered, 'For gold, ' I have found it hard tobelieve them; and when they have told me how men have lied, and robbed, and deceived; how they have murdered one another, and leagued togetherto depose kings, to oppress provinces, and all for gold; then I havesaid to myself, either my slaves have combined to make me believe thatwhich is not, or this gold must be very different from the yellow stuffthat this coin is made of, this coin which is of no use but to have ahole pierced through it and hang to my girdle, that it may tinkle when Iwalk. " "Notwithstanding, " said the old man, "nothing can be done without gold;for look you, prince, it is better than bread, and fruit, and music, forit can buy them all, since men love it, and have agreed to exchange itfor whatever they may need. " "How so?" asked the prince. "If a man has many loaves he cannot eat them all, " answered the old man;"therefore he goes to his neighbor and says, 'I have bread and thouhast a coin of gold--let us change'; so he receives the gold and goes toanother man, saying, 'Thou hast two houses and I have none; lend me oneof thy houses to live in, and I will give thee my gold'; thus again theychange, and he that has the gold says, 'I have food enough and goodsenough, but I want a wife, I will go to the merchant and get a marriagegift for her father, and for it I will give him this gold. '" "It is well, " said the prince; "but in time of drought, if there is nobread in a city, can they make it of gold?" "Not so, " answered the old man, "but they must send their gold to a citywhere there is food, and bring that back instead of it. " "But if there was a famine all over the world, " asked the prince, "whatwould they do then?" "Why then, and only then, " said the old man, "they must starve, and thegold would be nought, for it can only be changed for that which _is_; itcannot make that which is not. " "And where do they get gold?" asked the prince; "is it the preciousfruit of some rare tree, or have they whereby they can draw it down fromthe sky at sunset?" "Some of it, " said the old man, "they dig out of the ground. " Then he told the prince of ancient rivers running through terribledeserts, whose sands glitter, with golden grains and are yellow in thefierce heat of the sun, and of dreary mines where the Indian slaves workin gangs tied together, never seeing the light of day; and lastly (forhe was a man of much knowledge, and had traveled far), he told him ofthe valley of the Sacramento in the New World, and of those mountainswhere the people of Europe send their criminals, and where now theirfree men pour forth to gather gold, and dig for it as hard as if forlife; sitting up by it at night lest any should take it from them, giving up houses and country, and wife and children, for the sake of afew feet of mud, whence they dig clay that glitters as they wash it; andhow they sift it and rock it as patiently as if it were their ownchildren in the cradle, and afterwards carry it in their bosoms, andforego on account of it safety and rest. "But, prince, " he proceeded, observing that the young man was absorbedin his narrative, "if you would pass your word to me never to betray me, I would procure for you a sight of the external world, and in a tranceyou should see those places where gold is dug, and traverse thoseregions forbidden to your mortal footsteps. " Upon this, the prince threw himself at the old man's feet, and promisedheartily to observe the secrecy required, and entreated that, forhowever short time, he might be suffered to see this wonderful world. Then, if we may credit the story, the old man drew nearer to thechafing-dish which stood between them, and having fanned the dyingembers in it, cast upon them a certain powder and some herbs, fromwhence as they burnt a peculiar smoke arose. As their vapors spread, hedesired the prince to draw near and inhale them, and then (says thefable) when he should sleep he should find himself, in his dream, atwhatever place he might desire, with this strange advantage, that heshould see things in their truth and reality as well as in their outwardshows. So the prince, not without some fear, prepared to obey; but first hedrank his sherbet, and handed over the golden cup to the old man by wayof recompense; then he reclined beside the chafing-dish and inhaled theheavy perfume till he became overpowered with sleep, and sank down uponthe carpet in a dream. The prince knew not where he was, but a green country was floatingbefore him, and he found himself standing in a marshy valley, where afew wretched cottages were scattered here and there with no means ofcommunication. There was a river, but it had overflowed its banks andmade the central land impassable, the fences had been broken down by it, and the fields of corn laid low; a few wretched peasants were wanderingabout there; they looked half clad and half starved. "A miserable valleyindeed!" exclaimed the prince; but as he said it a man came down fromthe hills with a great bag of gold in his hand. "This valley is mine, " said he to the people; "I have bought it forgold. Now make banks that the river may not overflow, and I will giveyou gold; also make fences and plant fields, and cover in the roofs ofyour houses, and buy yourselves richer clothing. " So the people did so, and as the gold got lower in the bag the valley grew fairer and greener, till the prince exclaimed, "O gold, I see your value now! O wonderful, beneficent gold!" But presently the valley melted away like a mist, and the prince saw anarmy besieging a city; he heard a general haranguing his soldiers tourge them on, and the soldiers shouting and battering the walls; butshortly, when the city was well-nigh taken, he saw some men secretlythrowing gold among the soldiers, so much of it that they threw downtheir arms to pick it up, and said that the walls were so strong thatthey could not throw them down. "O powerful gold!" thought the prince;"thou art stronger than the city walls!" After that it seemed to himself that he was walking about in a desertcountry, and in his dream he thought, "Now I know what labor is, for Ihave seen it, and its benefits; and I know what liberty is, for I havetasted it; I can wander where I will, and no man questions me; but goldis more strange to me than ever, for I have seen it buy both liberty andlabor. " Shortly after this he saw a great crowd digging upon a barrenhill, and when he drew near he understood that he had reached the summitof his wishes, and that he was to see the place where the gold camefrom. He came up and stood a long time watching the people as they toiledready to faint in the sun, so great was the labor of digging the gold. He saw who had much and could not trust any one to help them to carryit, binding it in bundles over their shoulders, and bending and groaningunder its weight; he saw others hide it in the ground, and watch theplace clothed in rags, that none might suspect that they were rich; butsome, on the contrary, who had dug up an unusual quantity, he sawdancing and singing, and vaunting their success, till robbers waylaidthem when they slept, and rifled their bundles and carried their goldensand away. "All these men are mad, " thought the prince, "and this pernicious goldhas made them so. " After this, as he wandered here and there, he saw groups of peoplesmelting the gold under the shadow of the trees, and he observed that adancing, quivering vapor rose up from it, which dazzled their eyes, anddistorted everything that they looked at; arraying it also in differentcolors from the true one. He observed that this vapor from the goldcaused all things to rock and reel before the eyes of those who lookedthrough it, and also, by some strange affinity, it drew their heartstowards those that carried much gold on their persons, so that theycalled them good and beautiful; it also caused them to see darkness anddullness in the faces of those who carried none. "This, " thought theprince, "is very strange"; but not being able to explain it, he wentstill further, and there he saw more people. Each of these had adornedhimself with a broad golden girdle, and was sitting in the shade, whileother men waited on them. "What ails these people?" he inquired of one who was looking on, for heobserved a peculiar air of weariness and dullness in their faces. He wasanswered that the girdles were very tight and heavy, and being boundover the regions of the heart, were supposed to impede its action, andprevent it from beating high, and also to chill the wearer, as being ofopaque material, the warm sunshine of the earth could not get through towarm him. "Why, then, do they not break them asunder, " exclaimed the prince, "andfling them away?" "Break them asunder!" cried the man; "why what a madman you must be;they are made of the purest gold!" "Forgive my ignorance, " replied the prince; "I am a stranger. " So he walked on, for feelings of delicacy prevented him from gazing anylonger at the men with the golden girdles; but as he went he pondered onthe misery he had seen, and thought to himself that this golden sand didmore mischief than all the poisons of the apothecary; for it dazzled theeyes of some, it strained the hearts of others, it bowed down the headsof many to the earth with its weight; it was a sore labor to gather it, and when it was gathered, the robber might carry it away; it would be agood thing, he thought, if there were none of it. After this he came to a place where were sitting some aged widows andsome orphan children of the gold-diggers, who were helpless anddestitute; they were weeping and bemoaning themselves, but stopped atthe approach of a man, whose appearance attracted the prince, for he hada very great bundle of gold on his back, and yet it did not bow him downat all; his apparel was rich but he had no girdle on, and his face wasanything but sad. "Sir, " said the prince to him, "you have a great burden; you arefortunate to be able to stand under it. " "I could not do so, " he replied, "only that as I go on I keep lighteningit"; and as he passed each of the widows, he threw gold to her, andstooping down, hid pieces of it in the bosoms of the children. "You have no girdle, " said the prince. "I once had one, " answered the gold gatherer; "but it was so tight overmy breast that my very heart grew cold under it, and almost ceased tobeat. Having a great quantity of gold on my back, I felt almost at thelast gasp; so I threw off my girdle and being on the bank of a river, which I knew not how to cross, I was about to fling it in, I was sovexed! 'But no, ' thought I, 'there are many people waiting here to crossbesides myself. I will make my girdle into a bridge, and we will crossover on it. '" "Turn your girdle into a bridge!" exclaimed the prince doubtfully, forhe did not quite understand. The man explained himself. "And then, sir, after that, " he continued, "I turned one half of myburden into bread, and gave it to these poor people. Since then I havenot been oppressed by its weight, however heavy it may have been; forfew men have a heavier one. In fact, I gather more from day to day. " As the man kept speaking, he scattered his gold right and left with acheerful countenance, and the prince was about to reply, when suddenly agreat trembling under his feet made him fall to the ground. The refiningfires of the gold gatherers sprang up into flames, and then went out;night fell over everything on the earth, and nothing was visible in thesky but the stars of the southern cross, which were glittering abovehim. "It is past midnight, " thought the prince, "for the stars of the crossbegin to bend. " He raised himself upon his elbow, and tried to pierce the darkness, butcould not. At length a slender blue flame darted out, as from ashes in achafing-dish, and by the light of it he saw the strange pattern of hiscarpet and the cushions lying about. He did not recognise them at first, but presently he knew that he was lying in his usual place, at the topof his tower. "Wake up, prince, " said the old man. The prince sat up and sighed, and the old man inquired what he had seen. "O man of much learning!" answered the prince, "I have seen that this isa wonderful world; I have seen the value of labor, and I know the usesof it; I have tasted the sweetness of liberty, and am grateful, thoughit was but in a dream; but as for that other word that was so great amystery to me, I only know this, that it must remain a mystery forever, since I am fain to believe that all men are bent on getting it; though, once gotten, it causeth them endless disquietude, only second to theirdiscomfort that are without it. I am fain to believe that they canprocure with it whatever they most desire, and yet that it cankers theirhearts and dazzles their eyes; that it is their nature and their duty togather it; and yet that, when once gathered, the best thing they can dois to scatter it!" Alas! the prince visited this wonderful world no more; for the nextmorning, when he awoke, the old man was gone. He had taken with him thegolden cup which the prince had given him. And the sentinel was alsogone, none knew whither. Perhaps the old man had turned his golden cupinto a golden key. 203 Few modern writers have given their readers more genuine delight than Frank R. Stockton (1834-1902). The most absurd and illogical situations and characters are presented with an air of such quiet sincerity that one refuses to question the reality of it all. _Rudder Grange_ established his reputation in 1879, and was followed by a long list of stories of delightfully impossible events. For several years Stockton was one of the editors of _St. Nicholas_, and some of his stories for children, of first quality in both form and content, deserve to be better known than they are. Five of the best of them for school use have been brought together in a little volume called _Fanciful Tales_. One of these, "Old Pipes and the Dryad, " is given here by permission of the publishers, Charles Scribner's Sons, New York. (Copyright, 1894. ) This story is based upon the old mythical belief that the trees are inhabited by guardian deities known as dryads, or hamadryads. To injure a tree meant to injure its guardian spirit and was almost certain to insure disaster for the guilty person. On the other hand, to protect a tree would bring some token of appreciation from the dryad. A good introduction to the story would be the telling of one or two of these tree myths as found in Gayley's _Classic Myths_ or Bulfinch's _Age of Fable_. A fine literary version of one of them is in Lowell's "Rhoecus. " But the beautiful and kindly helpfulness of Old Pipes will carry its own message whether one knows any mythology or not. OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD FRANK R. STOCKTON A Mountain brook ran through a little village. Over the brook there wasa narrow bridge, and from the bridge a foot-path led out from thevillage and up the hill-side, to the cottage of Old Pipes and hismother. For many, many years Old Pipes had been employed by the villagers topipe the cattle down from the hills. Every afternoon, an hour beforesunset, he would sit on a rock in front of his cottage and play on hispipes. Then all the flocks and herds that were grazing on the mountainswould hear him, wherever they might happen to be, and would come down tothe village--the cows by the easiest paths, the sheep by those not quiteso easy, and the goats by the steep and rocky ways that were hardest ofall. But now, for a year or more, Old Pipes had not piped the cattle home. Itis true that every afternoon he sat upon the rock and played upon hispipes; but the cattle did not hear him. He had grown old, and his breathwas feeble. The echoes of his cheerful notes, which used to come fromthe rocky hill on the other side of the valley, were heard no more; andtwenty yards from Old Pipes one could scarcely tell what tune he wasplaying. He had become somewhat deaf, and did not know that the sound ofhis pipes was so thin and weak, and that the cattle did not hear him. The cows, the sheep, and the goats came down every afternoon as before;but this was because two boys and a girl were sent up after them. Thevillagers did not wish the good old man to know that his piping was nolonger of any use; so they paid him his little salary every month, andsaid nothing about the two boys and the girl. Old Pipes's mother was, of course, a great deal older than he was, andwas as deaf as a gate--post, latch, hinges, and all--and she never knewthat the sound of her son's pipe did not spread over all themountain-side and echo back strong and clear from the opposite hills. She was very fond of Old Pipes, and proud of his piping; and as he wasso much younger than she was, she never thought of him as being veryold. She cooked for him, and made his bed, and mended his clothes; andthey lived very comfortably on his little salary. One afternoon, at the end of the month, when Old Pipes had finished hispiping, he took his stout staff and went down the hill to the village toreceive the money for his month's work. The path seemed a great dealsteeper and more difficult than it used to be; and Old Pipes thoughtthat it must have been washed by the rains and greatly damaged. Heremembered it as a path that was quite easy to traverse either up ordown. But Old Pipes had been a very active man, and as his mother was somuch older than he was, he never thought of himself as aged and infirm. When the Chief Villager had paid him, and he had talked a little withsome of his friends, Old Pipes started to go home. But when he hadcrossed the bridge over the brook, and gone a short distance up thehill-side, he became very tired, and sat down upon a stone. He had notbeen sitting there half a minute, when along came two boys and a girl. "Children, " said Old Pipes, "I'm very tired to-night, and I don'tbelieve I can climb up this steep path to my home. I think I shall haveto ask you to help me. " "We will do that, " said the boys and the girl, quite cheerfully; and oneboy took him by the right hand and the other by the left, while the girlpushed him in the back. In this way he went up the hill quite easily, and soon reached his cottage door. Old Pipes gave each of the threechildren a copper coin, and then they sat down for a few minutes' restbefore starting back to the village. "I'm sorry that I tired you so much, " said Old Pipes. "Oh, that would not have tired us, " said one of the boys, "if we had notbeen so far to-day after the cows, the sheep, and the goats. Theyrambled high up on the mountain, and we never before had such a time infinding them. " "Had to go after the cows, the sheep, and the goats!" exclaimed OldPipes. "What do you mean by that?" The girl, who stood behind the old man, shook her head, put her hand onher mouth, and made all sorts of signs to the boy to stop talking onthis subject; but he did not notice her, and promptly answered OldPipes. "Why, you see, good sir, " said he, "that as the cattle can't hear yourpipes now, somebody has to go after them every evening to drive themdown from the mountain, and the Chief Villager has hired us three to doit. Generally it is not very hard work, but to-night the cattle hadwandered far. " "How long have you been doing this?" asked the old man. The girl shook her head and clapped her hand on her mouth as before, butthe boy went on. "I think it is about a year now, " he said, "since the people first feltsure that the cattle could not hear your pipes; and from that time we'vebeen driving them down. But we are rested now, and will go home. Good-night, sir. " The three children then went down the hill, the girl scolding the boyall the way home. Old Pipes stood silent a few moments, and then he wentinto his cottage. "Mother, " he shouted, "did you hear what those children said?" "Children!" exclaimed the old woman; "I did not hear them. I did notknow there were any children here. " Then Old Pipes told his mother--shouting very loudly to make herhear--how the two boys and the girl had helped him up the hill, and whathe had heard about his piping and the cattle. "They can't hear you?" cried his mother. "Why, what's the matter withthe cattle?" "Ah, me!" said Old Pipes; "I don't believe there's anything the matterwith the cattle. It must be with me and my pipes that there is somethingthe matter. But one thing is certain: if I do not earn the wages theChief Villager pays me, I shall not take them. I shall go straight downto the village and give back the money I received to-day. " "Nonsense!" cried his mother. "I'm sure you've piped as well as youcould, and no more can be expected. And what are we to do without themoney?" "I don't know, " said Old Pipes; "but I'm going down to the village topay it back. " The sun had now set; but the moon was shining very brightly on thehill-side, and Old Pipes could see his way very well. He did not takethe same path by which he had gone before, but followed another, whichled among the trees upon the hill-side, and, though longer, was not sosteep. When he had gone about half-way, the old man sat down to rest, leaninghis back against a great oak tree. As he did so, he heard a sound likeknocking inside the tree, and then a voice said: "Let me out! let me out!" Old Pipes instantly forgot that he was tired, and sprang to his feet. "This must be a Dryad tree!" he exclaimed. "If it is, I'll let her out. " Old Pipes had never, to his knowledge, seen a Dryad tree, but he knewthere were such trees on the hill-sides and the mountains, and thatDryads lived in them. He knew, too, that in the summer time, on thosedays when the moon rose before the sun went down, a Dryad could come outof her tree if any one could find the key which locked her in, and turnit. Old Pipes closely examined the trunk of the tree, which stood in thefull moonlight. "If I see that key, " he said, "I shall surely turn it. "Before long he found a piece of bark standing out from the tree, whichlooked to him very much like the handle of a key. He took hold of it, and found he could turn it quite around. As he did so, a large part ofthe side of the tree was pushed open, and a beautiful Dryad steppedquickly out. For a moment she stood motionless, gazing on the scene before her--thetranquil valley, the hills, the forest, and the mountain-side, all lyingin the soft clear light of the moon. "Oh, lovely! lovely!" sheexclaimed. "How long it is since I have seen anything like this!" Andthen, turning to Old Pipes, she said: "How good of you to let me out! Iam so happy, and so thankful, that I must kiss you, you dear old man!"And she threw her arms around the neck of Old Pipes, and kissed him onboth cheeks. "You don't know, " she then went on to say, "how doleful it is to be shutup so long in a tree. I don't mind it in the winter, for then I am gladto be sheltered, but in summer it is a rueful thing not to be able tosee all the beauties of the world. And it's ever so long since I've beenlet out. People so seldom come this way; and when they do come at theright time, they either don't hear me or they are frightened and runaway. But you, you dear old man, you were not frightened, and you lookedand looked for the key, and you let me out; and now I shall not have togo back till winter has come, and the air grows cold. Oh, it isglorious! What can I do for you, to show you how grateful I am?" "I am very glad, " said Old Pipes, "that I let you out, since I see thatit makes you so happy; but I must admit that I tried to find the keybecause I had a great desire to see a Dryad. But, if you wish to dosomething for me, you can, if you happen to be going down toward thevillage. " "To the village!" exclaimed the Dryad. "I will go anywhere for you, mykind old benefactor. " "Well, then, " said Old Pipes, "I wish you would take this little bag ofmoney to the Chief Villager and tell him that Old Pipes cannot receivepay for the services which he does not perform. It is now more than ayear that I have not been able to make the cattle hear me, when I pipedto call them home. I did not know this until to-night; but now that Iknow it, I cannot keep the money, and so I send it back. " And, handingthe little bag to the Dryad, he bade her good-night, and turned towardhis cottage. "Good-night, " said the Dryad. "And I thank you over, and over, and overagain, you good old man!" Old Pipes walked toward his home, very glad to be saved the fatigue ofgoing all the way down to the village and back again. "To be sure, " hesaid to himself, "this path does not seem at all steep, and I can walkalong it very easily; but it would have tired me dreadfully to come upall the way from the village, especially as I could not have expectedthose children to help me again. " When he reached home his mother wassurprised to see him returning so soon. "What!" she exclaimed; "have you already come back? What did the ChiefVillager say? Did he take the money?" Old Pipes was just about to tell her that he had sent the money to thevillage by a Dryad, when he suddenly reflected that his mother would besure to disapprove such a proceeding, and so he merely said he had sentit by a person whom he had met. "And how do you know that the person will ever take it to the ChiefVillager?" cried his mother. "You will lose it, and the villagers willnever get it. Oh, Pipes! Pipes! when will you be old enough to haveordinary common-sense?" Old Pipes considered that, as he was already seventy years of age, hecould scarcely expect to grow any wiser; but he made no remark on thissubject, and, saying that he doubted not that the money would go safelyto its destination, he sat down to his supper. His mother scolded himroundly, but he did not mind it; and after supper he went out and sat ona rustic chair in front of the cottage to look at the moonlit village, and to wonder whether or not the Chief Villager really received themoney. While he was doing these two things, he went fast asleep. When Old Pipes left the Dryad, she did not go down to the village withthe little bag of money. She held it in her hand, and thought about whatshe had heard. "This is a good and honest old man, " she said; "and it isa shame that he should lose this money. He looked as if he needed it, and I don't believe the people in the village will take it from one whohas served them so long. Often, when in my tree, have I heard the sweetnotes of his pipes. I am going to take the money back to him. " She didnot start immediately, because there were so many beautiful things tolook at; but after awhile she went up to the cottage, and, finding OldPipes asleep in his chair, she slipped the little bag into hiscoat-pocket, and silently sped away. The next day Old Pipes told his mother that he would go up the mountainand cut some wood. He had a right to get wood from the mountain, but fora long time he had been content to pick up the dead branches which layabout his cottage. To-day, however, he felt so strong and vigorous thathe thought he would go and cut some fuel that would be better thanthis. He worked all the morning, and when he came back he did not feelat all tired, and he had a very good appetite for his dinner. Now, Old Pipes knew a good deal about Dryads; but there was one thingwhich, although he had heard, he had forgotten. This was, that a kissfrom a Dryad made a person ten years younger. The people of the village knew this, and they were very careful not tolet any child of ten years or younger go into the woods where the Dryadswere supposed to be; for, if they should chance to be kissed by one ofthese tree-nymphs, they would be set back so far that they would ceaseto exist. A story was told in the village that a very bad boy of eleven once ranaway into the woods, and had an adventure of this kind; and when hismother found him he was a little baby of one year old. Taking advantageof her opportunity, she brought him up more carefully than she had donebefore, and he grew to be a very good boy indeed. Now Old Pipes had been kissed twice by the Dryad, once on each cheek, and he therefore felt as vigorous and active as when he was a hale manof fifty. His mother noticed how much work he was doing, and told himthat he need not try in that way to make up for the loss of his pipingwages; for he would only tire himself out, and get sick. But her sonanswered that he had not felt so well for years, and that he was quiteable to work. In the course of the afternoon, Old Pipes, for the first time that day, put his hand in his coat-pocket, and there, to his amazement, he foundthe little bag of money. "Well, well!" he exclaimed, "I am stupid, indeed! I really thought that I had seen a Dryad; but when I sat down bythat big oak tree I must have gone to sleep and dreamed it all; and thenI came home, thinking I had given the money to a Dryad, when it was inmy pocket all the time. But the Chief Villager shall have the money. Ishall not take it to him to-day, but to-morrow I wish to go to thevillage to see some of my old friends; and then I shall give up themoney. " Toward the close of the afternoon, Old Pipes, as had been his custom forso many years, took his pipes from the shelf on which they lay, and wentout to the rock in front of the cottage. "What are you going to do?" cried his mother. "If you will not consentto be paid, why do you pipe?" "I am going to pipe for my own pleasure, " said her son. "I am used toit, and I do not wish to give it up. It does not matter now whether thecattle hear me or not, and I am sure that my piping will injure no one. " When the good man began to play upon his favorite instrument he wasastonished at the sound that came from it. The beautiful notes of thepipes sounded clear and strong down into the valley, and spread over thehills, and up the sides of the mountain beyond, while, after a littleinterval, an echo came back from the rocky hill on the other side of thevalley. "Ha! ha!" he cried, "what has happened to my pipes? They must have beenstopped up of late, but now they are as clear and good as ever. " Again the merry notes went sounding far and wide. The cattle on themountain heard them, and those that were old enough remembered how thesenotes had called them from their pastures every evening, and so theystarted down the mountain-side, the others following. The merry notes were heard in the village below, and the people weremuch astonished thereby. "Why, who can be blowing the pipes of OldPipes?" they said. But, as they were all very busy, no one went up tosee. One thing, however, was plain enough: the cattle were coming downthe mountain. And so the two boys and the girl did not have to go afterthem, and had an hour for play, for which they were very glad. The next morning Old Pipes started down to the village with his money, and on the way he met the Dryad. "Oh, ho!" he cried, "is that you? Why, I thought my letting you out of the tree was nothing but a dream. " "A dream!" cried the Dryad; "if you only knew how happy you have mademe, you would not think it merely a dream. And has it not benefited you?Do you not feel happier? Yesterday I heard you playing beautifully onyour pipes. " "Yes, yes, " cried he. "I did not understand it before, but I see it allnow. I have really grown younger. I thank you, I thank you, good Dryad, from the bottom of my heart. It was the finding of the money in mypocket that made me think it was a dream. " "Oh, I put it in when you were asleep, " she said, laughing, "because Ithought you ought to keep it. Good-by, kind, honest man. May you livelong, and be as happy as I am now. " Old Pipes was greatly delighted when he understood that he was really ayounger man; but that made no difference about the money, and he kept onhis way to the village. As soon as he reached it, he was eagerlyquestioned as to who had been playing his pipes the evening before, andwhen the people heard that it was himself they were very much surprised. Thereupon Old Pipes told what had happened to him, and then there wasgreater wonder, with hearty congratulations and hand-shakes; for OldPipes was liked by everyone. The Chief Villager refused to take hismoney; and although Old Pipes said that he had not earned it, everyonepresent insisted that, as he would now play on his pipes as before, heshould lose nothing because, for a time, he was unable to perform hisduty. So Old Pipes was obliged to keep his money, and after an hour or twospent in conversation with his friends he returned to his cottage. There was one person, however, who was not pleased with what hadhappened to Old Pipes. This was an Echo-dwarf who lived on the hillsacross the valley. It was his work to echo back the notes of the pipeswhenever they could be heard. A great many other Echo-dwarfs lived on these hills. They all worked, but in different ways. Some echoed back the songs of maidens, some theshouts of children, and others the music that was often heard in thevillage. But there was only one who could send back the strong notes ofthe pipes of Old Pipes, and this had been his sole duty for many years. But when the old man grew feeble, and the notes of his pipes could notbe heard on the opposite hills, this Echo-dwarf had nothing to do, andhe spent his time in delightful idleness; and he slept so much and grewso fat that it made his companions laugh to see him walk. On the afternoon on which, after so long an interval, the sound of thepipes was heard on the echo hills, this dwarf was fast asleep behind arock. As soon as the first notes reached them, some of his companionsran to wake him up. Rolling to his feet, he echoed back the merry tuneof Old Pipes. Naturally, he was very angry at being thus obliged to give up his lifeof comfort, and he hoped very much that this pipe-playing would notoccur again. The next afternoon he was awake and listening, and, sureenough, at the usual hour, along came the notes of the pipes as clearand strong as they ever had been; and he was obliged to work as long asOld Pipes played. The Echo-dwarf was very angry. He had supposed, ofcourse, that the pipe-playing had ceased forever, and he felt that hehad a right to be indignant at being thus deceived. He was so muchdisturbed that he made up his mind to go and try to find out how longthis was to last. He had plenty of time, as the pipes were played butonce a day, and he set off early in the morning for the hill on whichOld Pipes lived. It was hard work for the fat little fellow, and when hehad crossed the valley and had gone some distance into the woods on thehill-side, he stopped to rest, and in a few minutes the Dryad cametripping along. "Ho, ho!" exclaimed the dwarf; "what are you doing here? and how did youget out of your tree?" "Doing!" cried the Dryad; "I am being happy; that's what I am doing. AndI was let out of my tree by the good old man who plays the pipes to callthe cattle down from the mountain. And it makes me happier to think thatI have been of service to him. I gave him two kisses of gratitude, andnow he is young enough to play his pipes as well as ever. " The Echo-dwarf stepped forward, his face pale with passion. "Am I tobelieve, " he said, "that you are the cause of this great evil that hascome upon me? and that you are the wicked creature who has again startedthis old man upon his career of pipe-playing? What have I ever done toyou that you should have condemned me for years and years to echo backthe notes of those wretched pipes?" At this the Dryad laughed loudly. "What a funny little fellow you are!" she said. "Anyone would think youhad been condemned to toil from morning till night; while what youreally have to do is merely to imitate for half an hour every day themerry notes of Old Pipes's piping. Fie upon you, Echo-dwarf! You arelazy and selfish; and that is what is the matter with you. Instead ofgrumbling at being obliged to do a little wholesome work, which is less, I am sure, than that of any other echo-dwarf upon the rocky hill-side, you should rejoice at the good fortune of the old man who has regainedso much of his strength and vigor. Go home and learn to be just andgenerous; and then, perhaps, you may be happy. Good-by. " "Insolent creature!" shouted the dwarf, as he shook his fat little fistat her. "I'll make you suffer for this. You shall find out what it is toheap injury and insult upon one like me, and to snatch from him therepose that he has earned by long years of toil. " And, shaking his headsavagely, he hurried back to the rocky hill-side. Every afternoon the merry notes of the pipes of Old Pipes sounded downinto the valley and over the hills and up the mountain-side; and everyafternoon when he had echoed them back, the little dwarf grew more andmore angry with the Dryad. Each day, from early morning till it was timefor him to go back to his duties upon the rocky hill-side, he searchedthe woods for her. He intended, if he met her, to pretend to be verysorry for what he had said, and he thought he might be able to play atrick upon her which would avenge him well. One day, while thus wandering among the trees, he met Old Pipes. TheEcho-dwarf did not generally care to see or speak to ordinary people;but now he was so anxious to find the object of his search, that hestopped and asked Old Pipes if he had seen the Dryad. The piper had notnoticed the little fellow, and he looked down on him with some surprise. "No, " he said; "I have not seen her, and I have been looking everywherefor her. " "You!" cried the dwarf, "what do you wish with her?" Old Pipes then sat down on a stone, so that he should be nearer the earof his small companion, and he told what the Dryad had done for him. When the Echo-dwarf heard that this was the man whose pipes he wasobliged to echo back every day, he would have slain him on the spot, hadhe been able; but, as he was not able, he merely ground his teeth andlistened to the rest of the story. "I am looking for the Dryad now, " Old Pipes continued, "on account of myaged mother. When I was old myself, I did not notice how very old mymother was; but now it shocks me to see how feeble her years have causedher to become; and I am looking for the Dryad to ask her to make mymother younger, as she made me. " The eyes of the Echo-dwarf glistened. Here was a man who might help himin his plans. "Your idea is a good one, " he said to Old Pipes, "and it does you honor. But you should know that a Dryad can make no person younger but one wholets her out of her tree. However, you can manage the affair veryeasily. All you need do is to find the Dryad, tell her what you want, and request her to step into her tree and be shut up for a short time. Then you will go and bring your mother to the tree; she will open it, and everything will be as you wish. Is not this a good plan?" "Excellent!" cried Old Pipes; "and I will go instantly and search morediligently for the Dryad. " "Take me with you, " said the Echo-dwarf. "You can easily carry me onyour strong shoulders; and I shall be glad to help you in any way that Ican. " "Now then, " said the little fellow to himself, as Old Pipes carried himrapidly along, "if he persuades the Dryad to get into a tree, --and sheis quite foolish enough to do it, --and then goes away to bring hismother, I shall take a stone or a club and I will break off the key ofthat tree, so that nobody can ever turn it again. Then Mistress Dryadwill see what she has brought upon herself by her behavior to me. " Before long they came to the great oak tree in which the Dryad hadlived, and at a distance they saw that beautiful creature herself comingtoward them. "How excellently well everything happens!" said the dwarf. "Put medown, and I will go. Your business with the Dryad is more importantthan mine; and you need not say anything about my having suggested yourplan to you. I am willing that you should have all the credit of ityourself. " Old Pipes put the Echo-dwarf upon the ground, but the little rogue didnot go away. He hid himself between some low, mossy rocks, and he was somuch like them in color that you would not have noticed him if you hadbeen looking straight at him. When the Dryad came up, Old Pipes lost no time in telling her about hismother, and what he wished her to do. At first, the Dryad answerednothing, but stood looking very sadly at Old Pipes. "Do you really wish me to go into my tree again?" she said. "I shoulddreadfully dislike to do it, for I don't know what might happen. It isnot at all necessary, for I could make your mother younger at any timeif she would give me the opportunity. I had already thought of makingyou still happier in this way, and several times I have waited aboutyour cottage, hoping to meet your aged mother, but she never comesoutside, and you know a Dryad cannot enter a house. I cannot imaginewhat put this idea into your head. Did you think of it yourself?" "No, I cannot say that I did, " answered Old Pipes. "A little dwarf whomI met in the woods proposed it to me. " "Oh!" cried the Dryad; "now I see through it all. It is the scheme ofthat vile Echo-dwarf--your enemy and mine. Where is he? I should like tosee him. " "I think he has gone away, " said Old Pipes. "No, he has not, " said the Dryad, whose quick eyes perceived theEcho-dwarf among the rocks, "there he is. Seize him and drag him out, Ibeg of you. " Old Pipes saw the dwarf as soon as he was pointed out to him; andrunning to the rocks, he caught the little fellow by the arm and pulledhim out. "Now, then, " cried the Dryad, who had opened the door of the great oak, "just stick him in there, and we will shut him up. Then I shall be safefrom his mischief for the rest of the time I am free. " Old Pipes thrust the Echo-dwarf into the tree; the Dryad pushed the doorshut; there was a clicking sound of bark and wood, and no one would havenoticed that the big oak had ever had an opening in it. "There, " said the Dryad; "now we need not be afraid of him. And I assureyou, my good piper, that I shall be very glad to make your motheryounger as soon as I can. Will you not ask her to come out and meet me?" "Of course I will, " cried Old Pipes; "and I will do it without delay. " And then, the Dryad by his side, he hurried to his cottage. But when hementioned the matter to his mother, the old woman became very angryindeed. She did not believe in Dryads; and, if they really did exist, she knew they must be witches and sorceresses, and she would havenothing to do with them. If her son had ever allowed himself to bekissed by one of them, he ought to be ashamed of himself. As to itsdoing him the least bit of good, she did not believe a word of it. Hefelt better than he used to feel, but that was very common. She hadsometimes felt that way herself, and she forbade him ever to mention aDryad to her again. That afternoon, Old Pipes, feeling very sad that his plan in regard tohis mother had failed, sat down upon the rock and played upon his pipes. The pleasant sounds went down the valley and up the hills and mountain, but, to the great surprise of some persons who happened to notice thefact, the notes were not echoed back from the rocky hill-side, but fromthe woods on the side of the valley on which Old Pipes lived. The nextday many of the villagers stopped in their work to listen to the echo ofthe pipes coming from the woods. The sound was not as clear and strongas it used to be when it was sent back from the rocky hill-side, but itcertainly came from among the trees. Such a thing as an echo changingits place in this way had never been heard of before, and nobody wasable to explain how it could have happened. Old Pipes, however, knewvery well that the sound came from the Echo-dwarf shut up in the greatoak tree. The sides of the tree were thin, and the sound of the pipescould be heard through them, and the dwarf was obliged by the laws ofhis being to echo back those notes whenever they came to him. But OldPipes thought he might get the Dryad in trouble if he let anyone knowthat the Echo-dwarf was shut up in the tree, and so he wisely saidnothing about it. One day the two boys and the girl who had helped Old Pipes up the hillwere playing in the woods. Stopping near the great oak tree, they hearda sound of knocking within it, and then a voice plainly said: "Let me out! let me out!" For a moment the children stood still in astonishment, and then one ofthe boys exclaimed: "Oh, it is a Dryad, like the one Old Pipes found! Let's let her out!" "What are you thinking of?" cried the girl. "I am the oldest of all, andI am only thirteen. Do you wish to be turned into crawling babies? Run!run! run!" And the two boys and the girl dashed down into the valley as fast astheir legs could carry them. There was no desire in their youthfulhearts to be made younger than they were, and for fear that theirparents might think it well that they should commence their careersanew, they never said a word about finding the Dryad tree. As the summer days went on, Old Pipes's mother grew feebler and feebler. One day when her son was away, for he now frequently went into the woodsto hunt or fish, or down into the valley to work, she arose from herknitting to prepare the simple dinner. But she felt so weak and tiredthat she was not able to do the work to which she had been so longaccustomed. "Alas! alas!" she said, "the time has come when I am too oldto work. My son will have to hire some one to come here and cook hismeals, make his bed, and mend his clothes. Alas! alas! I had hoped thatas long as I lived I should be able to do these things. But it is notso. I have grown utterly worthless, and some one else must prepare thedinner for my son. I wonder where he is. " And tottering to the door, shewent outside to look for him. She did not feel able to stand, andreaching the rustic chair, she sank into it, quite exhausted, and soonfell asleep. The Dryad, who had often come to the cottage to see if she could find anopportunity of carrying out Old Pipes's affectionate design, nowhappened by; and seeing that the much-desired occasion had come, shestepped up quietly behind the old woman and gently kissed her on eachcheek, and then as quietly disappeared. In a few minutes the mother of Old Pipes awoke, and looking up at thesun, she exclaimed: "Why, it is almost dinner-time! My son will be heredirectly, and I am not ready for him. " And rising to her feet, shehurried into the house, made the fire, set the meat and vegetables tocook, laid the cloth, and by the time her son arrived the meal was onthe table. "How a little sleep does refresh one, " she said to herself, as she wasbustling about. She was a woman of very vigorous constitution, and atseventy had been a great deal stronger and more active than her son wasat that age. The moment Old Pipes saw his mother, he knew that the Dryadhad been there; but, while he felt as happy as a king, he was too wiseto say anything about her. "It is astonishing how well I feel to-day, " said his mother; "and eithermy hearing has improved or you speak much more plainly than you havedone of late. " The summer days went on and passed away, the leaves were falling fromthe trees, and the air was becoming cold. "Nature has ceased to be lovely, " said the Dryad, "and the night windschill me. It is time for me to go back into my comfortable quarters inthe great oak. But first I must pay another visit to the cottage of OldPipes. " She found the piper and his mother sitting side by side on the rock infront of the door. The cattle were not to go to the mountain any morethat season, and he was piping them down for the last time. Loud andmerrily sounded the pipes of Old Pipes, and down the mountain-side camethe cattle, the cows by the easiest paths, the sheep by those not quiteso easy, and the goats by the most difficult ones among the rocks; whilefrom the great oak tree were heard the echoes of the cheerful music. "How happy they look, sitting there together, " said the Dryad; "and Idon't believe it will do them a bit of harm to be still younger. " Andmoving quietly up behind them, she first kissed Old Pipes on his cheekand then kissed his mother. Old Pipes, who had stopped playing, knew what it was, but he did notmove, and said nothing. His mother, thinking that her son had kissedher, turned to him with a smile and kissed him in return. And then shearose and went into the cottage, a vigorous woman of sixty, followed byher son, erect and happy, and twenty years younger than herself. The Dryad sped away to the woods, shrugging her shoulders as she feltthe cool evening wind. When she reached the great oak, she turned the key and opened the door. "Come out, " said she to the Echo-dwarf, who sat blinking within. "Winteris coming on, and I want the comfortable shelter of my tree for myself. The cattle have come down from the mountain for the last time this year, the pipes will no longer sound, and you can go to your rocks and have aholiday until next spring. " Upon hearing these words the dwarf skipped quickly out, and the Dryadentered the tree and pulled the door shut after her. "Now, then, " shesaid to herself, "he can break off the key if he likes. It does notmatter to me. Another will grow out next spring. And although the goodpiper made me no promise, I know that when the warm days arrive nextyear, he will come and let me out again. " The Echo-dwarf did not stop to break the key of the tree. He was toohappy to be released to think of anything else, and he hastened as fastas he could to his home on the rocky hill-side. The Dryad was not mistaken when she trusted in the piper. When the warmdays came again he went to the oak tree to let her out. But, to hissorrow and surprise, he found the great tree lying upon the ground. Awinter storm had blown it down, and it lay with its trunk shattered andsplit. And what became of the Dryad no one ever knew. 204 John Ruskin (1819-1900), the most eloquent of English prose writers, was much interested in the question of literature for both grown-ups and children. He edited a reissue of Taylor's translation of Grimms' _Popular Stories_, issued "Dame Wiggins of Lee and Her Seven Wonderful Cats" (see No. 143), and wrote that masterpiece among modern stories for children, _The King of the Golden River_. Its fine idealism, splendidly imagined structure, wonderful word-paintings, and perfect English all combine to justify the high place assigned to it. Ruskin wrote the story in 1841, at a "couple of sittings, " though it was not published until ten years later. Speaking of it later in life, he said that it "was written to amuse a little girl; and being a fairly good imitation of Grimm and Dickens, mixed with a little true Alpine feeling of my own, it has been rightly pleasing to nice children, and good for them. But it is totally valueless, for all that. I can no more write a story than compose a picture. " The final statement may be taken for what it is worth, written as it was at a time of disillusionment. The first part of Ruskin's analysis is certainly true and has been thus expanded by his biographer, Sir E. T. Cook: "The grotesque and the German setting of the tale were taken from Grimm; from Dickens it took its tone of pervading kindliness and geniality. The Alpine ecstasy and the eager pressing of the moral were Ruskin's own; and so also is the style, delicately poised between poetry and comedy. " THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER OR THE BLACK BROTHERS JOHN RUSKIN CHAPTER I HOW THE AGRICULTURAL SYSTEM OF THE BLACK BROTHERS WAS INTERFERED WITH BYSOUTH-WEST WIND, ESQUIRE In a secluded and mountainous part of Stiria there was, in old time, avalley of the most surprising and luxuriant fertility. It wassurrounded, on all sides, by steep and rocky mountains, rising intopeaks, which were always covered with snow, and from which a number oftorrents descended in constant cataracts. One of these fell westward, over the face of a crag so high, that, when the sun had set toeverything else, and all below was darkness, his beams still shone fullupon this waterfall, so that it looked like a shower of gold. It was, therefore, called by the people of the neighborhood, the Golden River. It was strange that none of these streams fell into the valley itself. They all descended on the other side of the mountains, and wound awaythrough broad plains and by populous cities. But the clouds were drawnso constantly to the snowy hills, and rested so softly in the circularhollow, that in time of drought and heat, when all the country round wasburnt up, there was still rain in the little valley; and its crops wereso heavy, and its hay so high, and its apples so red, and its grapes soblue, and its wine so rich, and its honey so sweet, that it was a marvelto every one who beheld it, and was commonly called the Treasure Valley. The whole of this little valley belonged to three brothers, calledSchwartz, Hans, and Gluck. Schwartz and Hans, the two elder brothers, were very ugly men, with overhanging eyebrows and small dull eyes, whichwere always half shut, so that you couldn't see into _them_, and alwaysfancied they saw very far into _you_. They lived by farming the TreasureValley, and very good farmers they were. They killed everything that didnot pay for its eating. They shot the blackbirds because they pecked thefruit; and killed the hedgehogs, lest they should suck the cows; theypoisoned the crickets for eating the crumbs in the kitchen; andsmothered the cicadas, which used to sing all summer in the lime trees. They worked their servants without any wages, till they would not workany more, and then quarreled with them, and turned them out of doorswithout paying them. It would have been very odd if, with such a farm, and such a system of farming, they hadn't got very rich; and very richthey _did_ get. They generally contrived to keep their corn by them tillit was very dear, and then sell it for twice its value; they had heapsof gold lying about on their floors, yet it was never known that theyhad given so much as a penny or a crust in charity; they never went tomass; grumbled perpetually at paying tithes; and were, in a word, of socruel and grinding a temper as to receive from all those with whom theyhad any dealings the nickname of the "Black Brothers. " The youngest brother, Gluck, was as completely opposed, in bothappearance and character, to his seniors as could possibly be imaginedor desired. He was not above twelve years old, fair, blue-eyed, and kindin temper to every living thing. He did not, of course, agreeparticularly well with his brothers, or rather, they did not agree with_him_. He was usually appointed to the honorable office of turnspit, when there was anything to roast, which was not often; for, to do thebrothers justice, they were hardly less sparing upon themselves thanupon other people. At other times he used to clean the shoes, floors, and sometimes the plates, occasionally getting what was left on them, byway of encouragement, and a wholesome quantity of dry blows, by way ofeducation. Things went on in this manner for a long time. At last came a very wetsummer, and everything went wrong in the country around. The hay hadhardly been got in, when the haystacks were floated bodily down to thesea by an inundation; the vines were cut to pieces with the hail; thecorn was all killed by a black blight; only in the Treasure Valley, asusual, all was safe. As it had rain when there was rain nowhere else, soit had sun when there was sun nowhere else. Everybody came to buy cornat the farm, and went away pouring maledictions on the Black Brothers. They asked what they liked, and got it, except from the poor people, whocould only beg, and several of whom were starved at their very door, without the slightest regard or notice. It was drawing towards winter, and very cold weather, when one day thetwo elder brothers had gone out, with their usual warning to littleGluck, who was left to mind the roast, that he was to let nobody in, andgive nothing out. Gluck sat down quite close to the fire, for it wasraining very hard, and the kitchen walls were by no means dry orcomfortable looking. He turned and turned, and the roast got nice andbrown. "What a pity, " thought Gluck, "my brothers never ask anybody todinner. I'm sure, when they've got such a nice piece of mutton as this, and nobody else has got so much as a piece of dry bread, it would dotheir hearts good to have somebody to eat it with them. " Just as he spoke, there came a double knock at the house door, yet heavyand dull, as though the knocker had been tied up--more like a puff thana knock. "It must be the wind, " said Gluck; "nobody else would venture to knockdouble knocks at our door. " No; it wasn't the wind; there it came again very hard, and what wasparticularly astounding, the knocker seemed to be in a hurry, and not tobe in the least afraid of the consequences. Gluck went to the window, opened it, and put his head out to see who it was. It was the most extraordinary looking little gentleman he had ever seenin his life. He had a very large nose, slightly brass-colored; hischeeks were very round, and very red, and might have warranted asupposition that he had been blowing a refractory fire for the lasteight-and-forty hours; his eyes twinkled merrily through long silkyeyelashes, his mustaches curled twice round like a corkscrew on eachside of his mouth, and his hair, of a curious mixed pepper-and-saltcolor, descended far over his shoulders. He was about four-feet-six inheight, and wore a conical pointed cap of nearly the same altitude, decorated with a black feather some three feet long. His doublet wasprolonged behind into something resembling a violent exaggeration ofwhat is now termed a "swallowtail, " but was much obscured by theswelling folds of an enormous black, glossy-looking cloak, which musthave been very much too long in calm weather, as the wind, whistlinground the old house, carried it clear out from the wearer's shoulders toabout four times his own length. Gluck was so perfectly paralyzed by the singular appearance of hisvisitor, that he remained fixed without uttering a word, until the oldgentleman, having performed another, and a more energetic concerto onthe knocker, turned round to look after his fly-away cloak. In so doinghe caught sight of Gluck's little yellow head jammed in the window, withits mouth and eyes very wide open indeed. "Hollo!" said the little gentleman, "that's not the way to answer thedoor: I'm wet; let me in!" To do the little gentleman justice, he _was_ wet. His feather hung downbetween his legs like a beaten puppy's tail, dripping like an umbrella;and from the ends of his mustaches the water was running into hiswaistcoat pockets, and out again like a mill stream. "I beg pardon, sir, " said Gluck, "I'm very sorry, but I really can't. " "Can't what?" said the old gentleman. "I can't let you in, sir, --I can't indeed; my brothers would beat me todeath, sir, if I thought of such a thing. What do you want, sir?" "Want?" said the old gentleman, petulantly. "I want fire, and shelter;and there's your great fire there blazing, crackling, and dancing on thewalls, with nobody to feel it. Let me in, I say; I only want to warmmyself. " Gluck had had his head, by this time, so long out of the window, that hebegan to feel it was really unpleasantly cold, and when he turned, andsaw the beautiful fire rustling and roaring, and throwing long brighttongues up the chimney, as if it were licking its chops at the savorysmell of the leg of mutton, his heart melted within him that it shouldbe burning away for nothing. "He does look _very_ wet, " said littleGluck; "I'll just let him in for a quarter of an hour. " Round he went tothe door, and opened it; and as the little gentleman walked in, therecame a gust of wind through the house that made the old chimneys totter. "That's a good boy, " said the little gentleman. "Never mind yourbrothers. I'll talk to them. " "Pray, sir, don't do any such thing, " said Gluck. "I can't let you staytill they come; they'd be the death of me. " "Dear me, " said the old gentleman, "I'm very sorry to hear that. Howlong may I stay?" "Only till the mutton's done, sir, " replied Gluck, "and it's verybrown. " Then the old gentleman walked into the kitchen, and sat himself down onthe hob, with the top of his cap accommodated up the chimney, for it wasa great deal too high for the roof. "You'll soon dry there, sir, " said Gluck, and sat down again to turn themutton. But the old gentleman did _not_ dry there, but went on drip, drip, dripping among the cinders, and the fire fizzed and sputtered, andbegan to look very black and uncomfortable; never was such a cloak;every fold in it ran like a gutter. "I beg pardon, sir, " said Gluck at length, after watching the waterspreading in long, quicksilver-like streams over the floor for a quarterof an hour; "mayn't I take your cloak?" "No thank you, " said the old gentleman. "Your cap, sir?" "I am all right, thank you, " said the old gentleman rather gruffly. "But--sir--I'm very sorry, " said Gluck hesitatingly; "but--really, sir--you're--putting the fire out. " "It'll take longer to do the mutton, then, " replied his visitor dryly. Gluck was very much puzzled by the behavior of his guest; it was such astrange mixture of coolness and humility. He turned away at the stringmeditatively for another five minutes. "That mutton looks very nice, " said the old gentleman at length. "Can'tyou give me a little bit?" "Impossible, sir, " said Gluck. "I'm very hungry, " continued the old gentleman; "I've had nothing to eatyesterday nor to-day. They surely couldn't miss a bit from the knuckle!" He spoke in so very melancholy a tone that it quite melted Gluck'sheart. "They promised me one slice to-day, sir, " said he; "I can giveyou that, but not a bit more. " "That's a good boy, " said the old gentleman again. Then Gluck warmed a plate, and sharpened a knife. "I don't care if I doget beaten for it, " thought he. Just as he had cut a large slice out ofthe mutton, there came a tremendous rap at the door. The old gentlemanjumped off the hob, as if it had suddenly become inconveniently warm. Gluck fitted the slice into the mutton again, with desperate efforts atexactitude, and ran to open the door. "What did you keep us waiting in the rain for?" said Schwartz, as hewalked in, throwing his umbrella in Gluck's face. "Ay! what for, indeed, you little vagabond?" said Hans, administering an educational box on theear, as he followed his brother into the kitchen. "Bless my soul!" said Schwartz when he opened the door. "Amen, " said the little gentleman, who had taken his cap off and wasstanding in the middle of the kitchen, bowing with the utmost possiblevelocity. "Who's that?" said Schwartz, catching up a rolling-pin, and turning toGluck with a fierce frown. "I don't know, indeed, brother, " said Gluck in great terror. "How did he get in?" roared Schwartz. "My dear brother, " said Gluck, deprecatingly, "he was so _very_ wet!" The rolling-pin was descending on Gluck's head; but, at the instant, theold gentleman interposed his conical cap, on which it crashed with ashock that shook the water out of it all over the room. What was veryodd, the rolling pin no sooner touched the cap, than it flew out ofSchwartz's hand, spinning like a straw in a high wind, and fell into thecorner at the farther end of the room. "Who are you, sir?" demanded Schwartz, turning upon him. "What's your business?" snarled Hans. "I'm a poor old man, sir, " the little gentleman began very modestly, "and I saw your fire through the window, and begged shelter for aquarter of an hour. " "Have the goodness to walk out again, then, " said Schwartz. "We've quiteenough water in our kitchen, without making it a drying house. " "It is a cold day to turn an old man out in, sir; look at my grayhairs. " They hung down to his shoulders, as I told you before. "Ay!" said Hans, "there are enough of them to keep you warm. Walk!" "I'm very, very hungry, sir; couldn't you spare me a bit of bread beforeI go?" "Bread, indeed!" said Schwartz; "do you suppose we've nothing to do withour bread but to give it to such red-nosed fellows as you?" "Why don't you sell your feather?" said Hans, sneeringly. "Out withyou!" "A little bit, " said the old gentleman. "Be off!" said Schwartz. "Pray, gentlemen--" "Off, and be hanged!" cried Hans, seizing him by the collar. But he hadno sooner touched the old gentleman's collar, than away he went afterthe rolling-pin, spinning round and round, till he fell into the corneron the top of it. Then Schwartz was very angry, and ran at the oldgentleman to turn him out; but he also had hardly touched him, when awayhe went after Hans and the rolling-pin, and hit his head against thewall as he tumbled into the corner. And so there they lay, all three. Then the old gentleman spun himself round with velocity in the oppositedirection; continued to spin until his long cloak was all wound neatlyabout him, clapped his cap on his head, very much on one side (for itcould not stand upright without going through the ceiling), gave anadditional twist to his corkscrew mustaches, and replied with perfectcoolness: "Gentlemen, I wish you a very good morning. At twelve o'clockto-night I'll call again; after such a refusal of hospitality as I havejust experienced, you will not be surprised if that visit is the last Iever pay you. " "If ever I catch you here again, " muttered Schwartz, coming, halffrightened, out of the corner--but, before he could finish his sentence, the old gentleman had shut the house door behind him with a great bang:and there drove past the window, at the same instant, a wreath of raggedcloud that whirled and rolled away down the valley in all manner ofshapes; turning over and over in the air, and melting away at last in agush of rain. "A very pretty business, indeed, Mr. Gluck!" said Schwartz. "Dish themutton, sir. If ever I catch you at such a trick again--bless me, whythe mutton's been cut!" "You promised me one slice, brother, you know, " said Gluck. "Oh! and you were cutting it hot, I suppose, and going to catch all thegravy. It'll be long before I promise you such a thing again. Leave theroom, sir; and have the kindness to wait in the coal-cellar till I callyou. " Gluck left the room melancholy enough. The brothers ate as much muttonas they could, locked the rest in the cupboard, and proceeded to getvery drunk after dinner. Such a night as it was! Howling wind and rushing rain, withoutintermission! The brothers had just sense enough left to put up all theshutters, and double bar the door, before they went to bed. They usuallyslept in the same room. As the clock struck twelve, they were bothawakened by a tremendous crash. Their door burst open with a violencethat shook the house from top to bottom. "What's that?" cried Schwartz, starting up in his bed. "Only I, " said the little gentleman. The two brothers sat up on their bolster and stared into the darkness. The room was full of water, and by a misty moonbeam, which found its waythrough a hole in the shutter, they could see in the midst of it anenormous foam globe, spinning round, and bobbing up and down like acork, on which, as on a most luxurious cushion, reclined the little oldgentleman, cap and all. There was plenty of room for it now, for theroof was off. "Sorry to incommode you, " said their visitor, ironically. "I'm afraidyour beds are dampish; perhaps you had better go to your brother's room;I've left the ceiling on, there. " They required no second admonition, but rushed into Gluck's room, wetthrough, and in an agony of terror. "You'll find my card on the kitchen table, " the old gentleman calledafter them. "Remember, the _last_ visit. " "Pray Heaven it may!" said Schwartz, shuddering. And the foam globedisappeared. Dawn came at last, and the two brothers looked out of Gluck's littlewindow in the morning. The Treasure Valley was one mass of ruin anddesolation. The inundation had swept away trees, crops, and cattle, andleft in their stead a waste of red sand and gray mud. The two brotherscrept shivering and horror-struck into the kitchen. The water had guttedthe whole first floor; corn, money, almost every movable thing had beenswept away, and there was left only a small white card on the kitchentable. On it, in large, breezy long-legged letters, were engraved thewords:-- SOUTH-WEST WIND, ESQUIRE. CHAPTER II OF THE PROCEEDINGS OF THE THREE BROTHERS AFTER THE VISIT OF SOUTH-WESTWIND, ESQUIRE; AND HOW LITTLE GLUCK HAD AN INTERVIEW WITH THE KING OFTHE GOLDEN RIVER South-West Wind, Esquire, was as good as his word. After the momentousvisit above related, he entered the Treasure Valley no more; and, whatwas worse, he had so much influence with his relations, the West Windsin general, and used it so effectually, that they all adopted a similarline of conduct. So no rain fell in the valley from one year's end toanother. Though everything remained green and flourishing in the plainsbelow, the inheritance of the Three Brothers was a desert. What had oncebeen the richest soil in the kingdom, became a shifting heap of redsand; and the brothers, unable longer to contend with the adverse skies, abandoned their valueless patrimony in despair, to seek some means ofgaining a livelihood among the cities and people of the plains. Alltheir money was gone, and they had nothing left but some curious, old-fashioned pieces of gold plates, the last remnants of theirill-gotten wealth. "Suppose we turn goldsmiths?" said Schwartz to Hans, as they entered thelarge city. "It is a good knave's trade; we can put a great deal ofcopper into the gold, without any one's finding it out. " The thought was agreed to be a very good one; they hired a furnace, andturned goldsmiths. But two slight circumstances affected their trade;the first, that people did not approve of the coppered gold; the second, that the two elder brothers, whenever they had sold anything, used toleave little Gluck to mind the furnace, and go and drink out the moneyin the ale-house next door. So they melted all their gold, withoutmaking money enough to buy more, and were at last reduced to one largedrinking mug, which an uncle of his had given to little Gluck, and whichhe was very fond of, and would not have parted with for the world;though he never drank anything out of it but milk and water. The mug wasa very odd mug to look at. The handle was formed of two wreaths offlowing golden hair, so finely spun that it looked more like silk thanmetal, and these wreaths descended into, and mixed with, a beard andwhiskers of the same exquisite workmanship, which surrounded anddecorated a very fierce little face, of the reddest gold imaginable, right in the front of the mug, with a pair of eyes in it which seemed tocommand its whole circumference. It was impossible to drink out of themug without being subjected to an intense gaze out of the side of theseeyes; and Schwartz positively averred that once, after emptying it, fullof Rhenish, seventeen times, he had seen them wink! When it came to themug's turn to be made into spoons, it half broke poor little Gluck'sheart; but the brothers only laughed at him, tossed the mug into themelting-pot, and staggered out to the ale-house; leaving him, as usual, to pour the gold into bars, when it was all ready. When they were gone, Gluck took a farewell look at his old friend in themelting-pot. The flowing hair was all gone; nothing remained but the rednose, and the sparkling eyes, which looked more malicious than ever. "And no wonder, " thought Gluck, "after being treated in that way. " Hesauntered disconsolately to the window, and sat himself down to catchthe fresh evening air, and escape the hot breath of the furnace. Nowthis window commanded a direct view of the range of mountains, which, asI told you before, overhung the Treasure Valley, and more especially ofthe peak from which fell the Golden River. It was just at the close ofthe day, and when Gluck sat down at the window, he saw the rocks of themountain tops, all crimson and purple with the sunset; and there werebright tongues of fiery cloud burning and quivering about them; and theriver, brighter than all, fell, in a waving column of pure gold, fromprecipice to precipice, with the double arch of a broad purple rainbowstretched across it, flushing and fading alternately in the wreaths ofspray. "Ah!" said Gluck aloud, after he had looked at it for a while, "if thatriver were really all gold, what a nice thing it would be. " "No, it wouldn't, Gluck, " said a clear metallic voice, close at his ear. "Bless me! what's that?" exclaimed Gluck, jumping up. There was nobodythere. He looked round the room, and under the table, and a great manytimes behind him, but there was certainly nobody there, and he sat downagain at the window. This time he didn't speak, but he couldn't helpthinking again that it would be very convenient if the river were reallyall gold. "Not at all, my boy, " said the same voice, louder than before. "Bless me!" said Gluck again; "what _is_ that?" He looked again into allthe corners, and cupboards, and then began turning round, and round, asfast as he could in the middle of the room, thinking there was somebodybehind him, when the same voice struck again on his ear. It was singingnow very merrily, "Lala-lira-la"; no words, only a soft runningeffervescent melody, something like that of a kettle on the boil. Glucklooked out of the window. No, it was certainly in the house. Upstairs, and downstairs. No, it was certainly in that very room, coming inquicker time, and clearer notes, every moment. "Lala-lira-la. " All atonce it struck Gluck that it sounded louder near the furnace. He ran tothe opening, and looked in; yes, he saw right, it seemed to be coming, not only out of the furnace, but out of the pot. He uncovered it, andran back in a great fright, for the pot was certainly singing! He stoodin the farthest corner of the room, with his hands up, and his mouthopen, for a minute or two, when the singing stopped, and the voicebecame clear, and pronunciative. "Hollo!" said the voice. Gluck made no answer. "Hollo! Gluck, my boy, " said the pot again. Gluck summoned all his energies, walked straight up to the crucible, drew it out of the furnace, and looked in. The gold was all melted, andits surface as smooth and polished as a river; but instead of reflectinglittle Gluck's head, as he looked in, he saw, meeting his glance frombeneath the gold, the red nose and sharp eyes of his old friend of themug, a thousand times redder and sharper than ever he had seen them inhis life. "Come, Gluck, my boy, " said the voice out of the pot again, "I'm allright; pour me out. " But Gluck was too much astonished to do anything of the kind. "Pour me out, I say, " said the voice rather gruffly. Still Gluck couldn't move. "_Will_ you pour me out?" said the voice passionately. "I'm too hot. " By a violent effort, Gluck recovered the use of his limbs, took hold ofthe crucible, and sloped it so as to pour out the gold. But instead of aliquid stream, there came out, first, a pair of pretty little yellowlegs, then some coat tails, then a pair of arms stuck a-kimbo, and, finally, the well-known head of his friend the mug; all which articles, uniting as they rolled out, stood up energetically on the floor, in theshape of a little golden dwarf, about a foot and a half high. "That's right!" said the dwarf, stretching out first his legs and thenhis arms, and then shaking his head up and down, and as far round as itwould go, for five minutes, without stopping; apparently with the viewof ascertaining if he were quite correctly put together, while Gluckstood contemplating him in speechless amazement. He was dressed in aslashed doublet of spun gold, so fine in its texture that the prismaticcolors gleamed over it, as if on a surface of mother of pearl; and, overthis brilliant doublet, his hair and beard fell full halfway to theground in waving curls so exquisitely delicate that Gluck could hardlytell where they ended; they seemed to melt into air. The features of theface, however, were by no means finished with the same delicacy; theywere rather coarse, slightly inclining to coppery in complexion, andindicative, in expression, of a very pertinacious and intractabledisposition in their small proprietor. When the dwarf had finished hisself-examination, he turned his small sharp eyes full on Gluck andstared at him deliberately for a minute or two. "No, it wouldn't, Gluck, my boy, " said the little man. This was certainly rather an abrupt and unconnected mode of commencingconversation. It might indeed be supposed to refer to the course ofGluck's thoughts, which had first produced the dwarf's observations outof the pot; but whatever it referred to, Gluck had no inclination todispute the dictum. "Wouldn't it, sir?" said Gluck, very mildly and submissively indeed. "No, " said the dwarf, conclusively. "No, it wouldn't. " And with that, the dwarf pulled his cap hard over his brows, and took two turns, ofthree feet long, up and down the room, lifting his legs up very high, and setting them down very hard. This pause gave time for Gluck tocollect his thoughts a little, and, seeing no great reason to view hisdiminutive visitor with dread, and feeling his curiosity overcome hisamazement, he ventured on a question of peculiar delicacy. "Pray, sir, " said Gluck rather hesitatingly, "were you my mug?" On which the little man turned sharp round, walked straight up to Gluck, and drew himself up to his full height. "I, " said the little man, "amthe King of the Golden River. " Whereupon he turned about again, and tooktwo more turns, some six feet long, in order to allow time for theconsternation which this announcement produced in his auditor toevaporate. After which, he again walked up to Gluck and stood still, asif expecting some comment on his communication. Gluck determined to say something at all events. "I hope your Majesty isvery well, " said Gluck. "Listen!" said the little man, deigning no reply to this polite inquiry. "I am the King of what you mortals call the Golden River. The shape yousaw me in, was owing to the malice of a stronger king, from whoseenchantments you have this instant freed me. What I have seen of you, and your conduct to your wicked brothers, renders me willing to serveyou; therefore, attend to what I tell you. Whoever shall climb to thetop of that mountain from which you see the Golden River issue, andshall cast into the stream at its source three drops of holy water, forhim, and for him only, the river shall turn to gold. But no one failingin his first, can succeed in a second attempt; and if any one shall castunholy water into the river, it will overwhelm him, and he will become ablack stone. " So saying, the King of the Golden River turned away anddeliberately walked into the center of the hottest flame of the furnace. His figure became red, white, transparent, dazzling--a blaze of intenselight--rose, trembled, and disappeared. The King of the Golden River hadevaporated. "Oh!" cried poor Gluck, running to look up the chimney after him; "Oh, dear, dear, dear me! My mug! my mug! my mug!" CHAPTER III HOW MR. HANS SET OFF ON AN EXPEDITION TO THE GOLDEN RIVER, AND HOW HEPROSPERED THEREIN The King of the Golden River had hardly made the extraordinary exit, related in the last chapter, before Hans and Schwartz came roaring intothe house, very savagely drunk. The discovery of the total loss of theirlast piece of plate had the effect of sobering them just enough toenable them to stand over Gluck, beating him very steadily for a quarterof an hour; at the expiration of which period they dropped into a coupleof chairs, and requested to know what he had got to say for himself. Gluck told them his story, of which, of course, they did not believe aword. They beat him again, till their arms were tired, and staggered tobed. In the morning, however, the steadiness with which he adhered tohis story obtained him some degree of credence; the immediateconsequence of which was, that the two brothers, after wrangling a longtime on the knotty question, which of them should try his fortune first, drew their swords and began fighting. The noise of the fray alarmed theneighbors, who, finding they could not pacify the combatants, sent forthe constable. Hans, on hearing this, contrived to escape, and hid himself; butSchwartz was taken before the magistrate, fined for breaking the peace, and, having drunk out his last penny the evening before, was thrown intoprison till he should pay. When Hans heard this, he was much delighted, and determined to set outimmediately for the Golden River. How to get the holy water was thequestion. He went to the priest, but the priest could not give any holywater to so abandoned a character. So Hans went to vespers in theevening for the first time in his life, and, under pretense of crossinghimself, stole a cupful, and returned home in triumph. Next morning he got up before the sun rose, put the holy water into astrong flask, and two bottles of wine and some meat in a basket, slungthem over his back, took his alpine staff in his hand, and set off forthe mountains. On his way out of the town he had to pass the prison, and as he lookedin at the windows, whom should he see but Schwartz himself peeping outof the bars, and looking very disconsolate. "Good morning, brother, " said Hans; "have you any message for the Kingof the Golden River?" Schwartz gnashed his teeth with rage, and shook the bars with all hisstrength; but Hans only laughed at him, and advising him to make himselfcomfortable till he came back again, shouldered his basket, shook thebottle of holy water in Schwartz's face till it frothed again, andmarched off in the highest spirits in the world. It was, indeed, a morning that might have made any one happy, even withno Golden River to seek for. Level lines of dewy mist lay stretchedalong the valley, out of which rose the massy mountains--their lowercliffs in pale gray shadow, hardly distinguishable from the floatingvapor, but gradually ascending till they caught the sunlight, which ranin sharp touches of ruddy color along the angular crags, and pierced, inlong level rays, through their fringes of spear-like pine. Far above, shot up red splintered masses of castellated rock, jagged and shiveredinto myriads of fantastic forms, with here and there a streak of sunlitsnow, traced down their chasms like a line of forked lightning; and, farbeyond, and far above all these, fainter than the morning cloud, butpurer and changeless, slept, in the blue sky, the utmost peaks of theeternal snow. The Golden River, which sprang from one of the lower and snowlesselevations, was now nearly in shadow; all but the uppermost jets ofspray, which rose like slow smoke above the undulating line of thecataract, and floated away in feeble wreaths upon the morning wind. On this object, and on this alone, Hans's eyes and thoughts were fixed;forgetting the distance he had to traverse, he set off at an imprudentrate of walking, which greatly exhausted him before he had scaled thefirst range of the green and low hills. He was, moreover, surprised, onsurmounting them, to find that a large glacier, of whose existence, notwithstanding his previous knowledge of the mountains, he had beenabsolutely ignorant, lay between him and the source of the Golden River. He entered on it with the boldness of a practised mountaineer; yet hethought he had never traversed so strange or so dangerous a glacier inhis life. The ice was excessively slippery, and out of all its chasmscame wild sounds of gushing water; not monotonous or low, but changefuland loud, rising occasionally into drifting passages of wild melody;then breaking off into short melancholy tones, or sudden shrieks, resembling those of human voices in distress or pain. The ice was brokeninto thousands of confused shapes, but none, Hans thought, like theordinary forms of splintered ice. There seemed a curious _expression_about all their outlines--a perpetual resemblance to living features, distorted and scornful. Myriads of deceitful shadows, and lurid lights, played and floated about and through the pale blue pinnacles, dazzlingand confusing the sight of the traveler; while his ears grew dull andhis head giddy with the constant gush and roar of the concealed waters. These painful circumstances increased upon him as he advanced; the icecrashed and yawned into fresh chasms at his feet, tottering spiresnodded around him, and fell thundering across his path; and though hehad repeatedly faced these dangers on the most terrific glaciers, and inthe wildest weather, it was with a new and oppressive feeling of panicterror that he leaped the last chasm, and flung himself, exhausted andshuddering, on the firm turf of the mountain. He had been compelled to abandon his basket of food, which became aperilous encumbrance on the glacier, and had now no means of refreshinghimself but by breaking off and eating some of the pieces of ice. This, however, relieved his thirst; an hour's repose recruited his hardyframe, and with the indomitable spirit of avarice, he resumed hislaborious journey. His way now lay straight up a ridge of bare red rocks, without a bladeof grass to ease the foot, or a projecting angle to afford an inch ofshade from the south sun. It was past noon, and the rays beat intenselyupon the steep path, while the whole atmosphere was motionless andpenetrated with heat. Intense thirst was soon added to the bodilyfatigue with which Hans was now afflicted; glance after glance he caston the flask of water which hung at his belt. "Three drops are enough, "at last thought he; "I may, at least, cool my lips with it. " He opened the flask, and was raising it to his lips, when his eye fellon an object lying on the rock beside him; he thought it moved. It was asmall dog, apparently in the last agony of death from thirst. Its tonguewas out, its jaws dry, its limbs extended lifelessly, and a swarm ofblack ants were crawling about its lips and throat. Its eye moved to thebottle which Hans held in his hand. He raised it, drank, spurned theanimal with his foot, and passed on. And he did not know how it was, buthe thought that a strange shadow had suddenly come across the blue sky. The path became steeper and more rugged every moment; and the high hillair, instead of refreshing him, seemed to throw his blood into a fever. The noise of the hill cataracts sounded like mockery in his ears; theywere all distant, and his thirst increased every moment. Another hourpassed, and he again looked down to the flask at his side; it was halfempty, but there was much more than three drops in it. He stopped toopen it; and again, as he did so, something moved in the path above him. It was a fair child, stretched nearly lifeless on the rock, its breastheaving with thirst, its eyes closed, and its lips parched and burning. Hans eyed it deliberately, drank, and passed on. And a dark gray cloudcame over the sun, and long, snake-like shadows crept up along themountain sides. Hans struggled on. The sun was sinking, but its descentseemed to bring no coolness; the leaden weight of the dead air pressedupon his brow and heart, but the goal was near. He saw the cataract ofthe Golden River springing from the hillside, scarcely five hundred feetabove him. He paused for a moment to breathe, and sprang on to completehis task. At this instant a faint cry fell on his ear. He turned, and saw agray-haired old man extended on the rocks. His eyes were sunk, hisfeatures deadly pale, and gathered into an expression of despair. "Water!" he stretched his arms to Hans, and cried feebly, "Water! I amdying. " "I have none, " replied Hans; "thou hast had thy share of life. " Hestrode over the prostrate body, and darted on. And a flash of bluelightning rose out of the East, shaped like a sword; it shook thriceover the whole heaven, and left it dark with one heavy, impenetrableshade. The sun was setting; it plunged toward the horizon like a red-hotball. The roar of the Golden River rose on Hans's ear. He stood at the brinkof the chasm through which it ran. Its waves were filled with the redglory of the sunset; they shook their crests like tongues of fire, andflashes of bloody light gleamed along their foam. Their sound camemightier and mightier on his senses; his brain grew giddy with theprolonged thunder. Shuddering he drew the flask from his girdle, andhurled it into the center of the torrent. As he did so, an icy chillshot through his limbs; he staggered, shrieked, and fell. The watersclosed over his cry. And the moaning of the river rose wildly into thenight, as it gushed over THE BLACK STONE. CHAPTER IV HOW MR. SCHWARTZ SET OFF ON AN EXPEDITION TO THE GOLDEN RIVER, AND HOWHE PROSPERED THEREIN Poor little Gluck waited very anxiously alone in the house for Hans'sreturn. Finding he did not come back, he was terribly frightened andwent and told Schwartz in the prison, all that had happened. ThenSchwartz was very much pleased, and said that Hans must certainly havebeen turned into a black stone, and he should have all the gold tohimself. But Gluck was very sorry, and cried all night. When he got upin the morning there was no bread in the house, nor any money; so Gluckwent and hired himself to another goldsmith, and he worked so hard, andso neatly, and so long every day, that he soon got money enough togetherto pay his brother's fine, and he went and gave it all to Schwartz, andSchwartz got out of prison. Then Schwartz was quite pleased, and said heshould have some of the gold of the river. But Gluck only begged hewould go and see what had become of Hans. Now when Schwartz had heard that Hans had stolen the holy water, hethought to himself that such a proceeding might not be consideredaltogether correct by the King of the Golden River, and determined tomanage matters better. So he took some more of Gluck's money, and wentto a bad priest, who gave him some holy water very readily for it. ThenSchwartz was sure it was all quite right. So Schwartz got up early inthe morning before the sun rose, and took some bread and wine, in abasket, and put his holy water in a flask, and set off for themountains. Like his brother, he was much surprised at the sight of theglacier, and had great difficulty in crossing it, even after leaving hisbasket behind him. The day was cloudless, but not bright; there was aheavy purple haze hanging over the sky, and the hills looked loweringand gloomy. And as Schwartz climbed the steep rock path, the thirst cameupon him, as it had upon his brother, until he lifted his flask to hislips to drink. Then he saw the fair child lying near him on the rocks, and it cried to him, and moaned for water. "Water, indeed, " said Schwartz; "I haven't half enough for myself, " andpassed on. And as he went he thought the sunbeams grew more dim, and hesaw a low bank of black cloud rising out of the West; and, when he hadclimbed for another hour the thirst overcame him again, and he wouldhave drunk. Then he saw the old man lying before him on the path, andheard him cry out for water. "Water, indeed, " said Schwartz, "I haven'tenough for myself, " and on he went. Then again the light seemed to fade before his eyes, and he looked up, and, behold, a mist, of the color of blood, had come over the sun; andthe bank of black cloud had risen very high, and its edges were tossingand tumbling like the waves of the angry sea. And they cast longshadows, which flickered over Schwartz's path. Then Schwartz climbed for another hour, and again his thirst returned;and as he lifted his flask to his lips, he thought he saw his brotherHans lying exhausted on the path before him, and, as he gazed, thefigure stretched its arms to him, and cried for water. "Ha, ha, " laughedSchwartz, "are you there? Remember the prison bars, my boy. Water, indeed! do you suppose I carried it all the way up here for _you_?" Andhe strode over the figure; yet, as he passed, he thought he saw astrange expression of mockery about its lips. And, when he had gone afew yards farther, he looked back; but the figure was not there. And a sudden horror came over Schwartz, he knew not why; but the thirstfor gold prevailed over his fear, and he rushed on. And the bank ofblack cloud rose to the zenith, and out of it came bursts of spirylightning, and waves of darkness seemed to heave and float between theirflashes over the whole heavens. And the sky where the sun was settingwas all level, and like a lake of blood; and a strong wind came out ofthat sky, tearing its crimson cloud into fragments, and scattering themfar into the darkness. And when Schwartz stood by the brink of theGolden River, its waves were black, like thunder clouds, but their foamwas like fire; and the roar of the waters below, and the thunder above, met, as he cast the flask into the stream. And, as he did so, thelightning glared into his eyes, and the earth gave way beneath him, andthe waters closed over his cry. And the moaning of the river rose wildlyinto the night, as it gushed over the TWO BLACK STONES. CHAPTER V HOW LITTLE GLUCK SET OFF ON AN EXPEDITION TO THE GOLDEN RIVER, AND HOWHE PROSPERED THEREIN; WITH OTHER MATTERS OF INTEREST When Gluck found that Schwartz did not come back he was very sorry, anddid not know what to do. He had no money, and was obliged to go and hirehimself again to the goldsmith, who worked him very hard, and gave himvery little money. So, after a month or two, Gluck grew tired, and madeup his mind to go and try his fortune with the Golden River. "The littleKing looked very kind, " thought he. "I don't think he will turn me intoa black stone. " So he went to the priest, and the priest gave him someholy water as soon as he asked for it. Then Gluck took some bread in hisbasket, and the bottle of water, and set off very early for themountains. If the glacier had occasioned a great deal of fatigue to his brothers, it was twenty times worse for him, who was neither so strong nor sopractised on the mountains. He had several bad falls, lost his basketand bread, and was very much frightened at the strange noises under theice. He lay a long time to rest on the grass, after he had got over, and began to climb the hill just in the hottest part of the day. When hehad climbed for an hour, he got dreadfully thirsty, and was going todrink like his brothers, when he saw an old man coming down the pathabove him, looking very feeble, and leaning on a staff. "My son, " saidthe old man, "I am faint with thirst. Give me some of that water. " ThenGluck looked at him, and when he saw that he was pale and weary, he gavehim the water; "Only pray don't drink it all, " said Gluck. But the oldman drank a great deal, and gave him back the bottle two-thirds empty. Then he bade him good speed, and Gluck went on again merrily. And thepath became easier to his feet, and two or three blades of grassappeared upon it, and some grasshoppers began singing on the bank besideit; and Gluck thought he had never heard such merry singing. Then he went on for another hour, and the thirst increased on him sothat he thought he should be forced to drink. But, as he raised theflask, he saw a little child lying panting by the road-side, and itcried out piteously for water. Then Gluck struggled with himself, anddetermined to bear the thirst a little longer; and he put the bottle tothe child's lips, and it drank it all but a few drops. Then it smiled onhim, and got up and ran down the hill; and Gluck looked after it, tillit became as small as a little star, and then turned and began climbingagain. And then there were all kinds of sweet flowers growing on therocks, bright green moss with pale pink starry flowers, and soft belledgentians, more blue than the sky at its deepest, and pure whitetransparent lilies. And crimson and purple butterflies darted hither andthither, and the sky sent down such pure light that Gluck had never feltso happy in his life. Yet, when he had climbed for another hour, his thirst became intolerableagain; and, when he looked at his bottle, he saw that there were onlyfive or six drops left in it, and he could not venture to drink. And, ashe was hanging the flask to his belt again, he saw a little dog lying onthe rocks, gasping for breath--just as Hans had seen it on the day ofhis ascent. And Gluck stopped and looked at it, and then at the GoldenRiver, not five hundred yards above him; and he thought of the dwarf'swords, "that no one could succeed, except in his first attempt"; and hetried to pass the dog, but it whined piteously, and Gluck stopped again. "Poor beastie, " said Gluck, "it'll be dead when I come down again, if Idon't help it. " Then he looked closer and closer at it, and its eyeturned on him so mournfully that he could not stand it. "Confound theKing and his gold, too, " said Gluck; and he opened the flask, and pouredall the water into the dog's mouth. The dog sprang up and stood on its hind legs. Its tail disappeared, itsears became long, longer, silky, golden; its nose became very red, itseyes became very twinkling; in three seconds the dog was gone, andbefore Gluck stood his old acquaintance, the King of the Golden River. "Thank you, " said the monarch; "but don't be frightened, it's allright"; for Gluck showed manifest symptoms of consternation at thisunlooked-for reply to his last observation. "Why didn't you comebefore, " continued the dwarf, "instead of sending me those rascallybrothers of yours, for me to have the trouble of turning into stones?Very hard stones they make, too. " "Oh, dear me!" said Gluck, "have you really been so cruel?" "Cruel!" said the dwarf: "they poured unholy water into my stream; doyou suppose I'm going to allow that?" "Why, " said Gluck, "I am sure, sir--your Majesty, I mean, --they got thewater out of the church font. " "Very probably, " replied the dwarf; "but, " and his countenance grewstern as he spoke, "the water which has been refused to the cry of theweary and dying is unholy, though it had been blessed by every saint inheaven; and the water which is found in the vessel of mercy is holy, though it had been defiled with corpses. " So saying, the dwarf stooped and plucked a lily that grew at his feet. On its white leaves there hung three drops of clear dew. And the dwarfshook them into the flask which Gluck held in his hand. "Cast these intothe river, " he said, "and descend on the other side of the mountainsinto the Treasure Valley, and so good speed. " As he spoke, the figure of the dwarf became indistinct. The playingcolors of his robe formed themselves into a prismatic mist of dewylight: he stood for an instant veiled with them as with the belt of abroad rainbow. The colors grew faint, the mist rose into the air; themonarch had evaporated. And Gluck climbed to the brink of the Golden River and its waves were asclear as crystal, and as brilliant as the sun. And, when he cast thethree drops of dew into the stream, there opened where they fell, asmall circular whirlpool, into which the waters descended with a musicalnoise. Gluck stood watching it for some time, very much disappointed, becausenot only the river was not turned into gold but its waters seemed muchdiminished in quantity. Yet he obeyed his friend the dwarf, anddescended the other side of the mountains, towards the Treasure Valley;and, as he went, he thought he heard the noise of water working its wayunder the ground. And when he came in sight of the Treasure Valley, behold, a river, like the Golden River, was springing from a new cleftof the rocks above it, and was flowing in innumerable streams among thedry heaps of red sand. And, as Gluck gazed, fresh grass sprang beside the new streams, andcreeping plants grew, and climbed among the moistening soil. Youngflowers opened suddenly along the river sides, as stars leap out whentwilight is deepening, and thickets of myrtle, and tendrils of vine, cast lengthening shadows over the valley as they grew. And thus theTreasure Valley became a garden again, and the inheritance, which hadbeen lost by cruelty, was regained by love. And Gluck went and dwelt in the valley, and the poor were never drivenfrom his door; so that his barns became full of corn, and his house oftreasure. And for him, the river had, according to the dwarf's promise, become a River of Gold. And, to this day, the inhabitants of the valley point out the placewhere the three drops of holy dew were cast into the stream, and tracethe course of the Golden River under the ground, until it emerges in theTreasure Valley. And at the top of the cataract of the Golden River arestill to be seen TWO BLACK STONES, round which the waters howlmournfully every day at sunset; and these stones are still called by thepeople of the valley THE BLACK BROTHERS. SECTION V FABLES AND SYMBOLIC STORIES BIBLIOGRAPHY Jacobs, Joseph, _History of the Aesopic Fable_. The only elaborate and scholarly study in English. Vol. I of a reprint of _Caxton's Aesop_. [Bibliothèque de Carabas Series. ] Published in 1889 in a limited edition and not easily accessible. Jacobs, Joseph, _The Fables of Aesop_. [Illustrated by Richard Heighway. ] Eighty-two selected fables. The Introduction is a summary of all the essential conclusions reached in the study above. Wiggin, Kate D. , and Smith, Nora A. , _The Talking Beasts_. The best general collection from all fields, including both the folk fable and the modern literary fable. Babbitt, Ellen C. , _Jataka Tales Retold_. Dutton, Maude Barrows, _The Tortoise and the Geese, and Other Fables of Bidpai_. Ramaswami Raju, P. V. , _Indian Folk Stories and Fables_. These three books are excellent for simplified versions of the eastern group. Those desiring to get closer to the sources may refer to Cowell [ed. ], _The Jataka, or Stories of the Buddha's Former Births_; Rhys-Davids, _Buddhist Birth Stories_; Keith-Falconer, _Bidpai's Fables_. SUGGESTIONS FOR READING It is possible to piece out a very satisfactory account of the natureand history of the traditional fable by looking up in any goodencyclopedia the brief articles under the following heads: Folklore, Fable, Parable, Apologue, Æsop, Demetrius of Phalerum, Babrias, Phaedrus, Avian, Romulus, Maximus Planudes, Jataka, Bidpai, Panchatantra, Hitopadesa. For a popular account of the whole philosophy of the apologue consultNewbigging, _Fables and Fabulists: Ancient and Modern_. For distinctions between various kinds of symbolic tales see Canby, _TheShort Story in English_ (pp. 23 ff. ); Trench, _Notes on the Parables_(Introduction); Smith, "The Fable and Kindred Forms, " _Journal ofEnglish and Germanic Philology_, Vol. XIV, p. 519. For origins and parallels read Müller, "On the Migration of Fables, "_Selected Essays_, Vol. I (reprinted in large part in Warner, _Libraryof the World's Best Literature_, Vol. XVIII); Clouston, _Popular Talesand Fictions_, Vol. I, p. 266, and Vol. II, p. 432. The more generaltreatises on folklore all touch on these problems. For suggestions on the use of fables with children see MacClintock, _Literature in the Elementary School_ (chap. Xi); Adler, _MoralInstruction of Children_ (chaps. Vii and viii); McMurry, _Special Methodin Reading in the Grades_ (p. 70). For a clear and helpful account of the French writers of fables, themost important modern group, read Collins, _La Fontaine and Other FrenchFabulists_. Representative examples are given in most excellenttranslation. The best complete translation of La Fontaine is by ElizurWright; of Krylov, in verse by I. H. Harrison, in prose by W. R. S. Ralston; of Yriarte, by R. Rockliffe. Gay's complete collection may befound in any edition of his poems. Satisfactory collections of proverbial sayings useful in findingexpressions for the wisdom found in fables are Christy, _Proverbs, Maxims, and Phrases of All Ages_; Hazlitt, _English Proverbs andProverbial Phrases_; Trench, _Proverbs and Their Lessons_. A book of great suggestive value covering the whole field of the prosestory is Fansler, _Types of Prose Narratives_. It contains elaborateclassifications, discussions and examples of each type, and an extendedbibliography. Pp. 83-127 deal with fables, parables, and allegories. SECTION V: FABLES AND SYMBOLIC STORIES INTRODUCTORY _The character and value of fables. _ Some one has pointed out that thereare two kinds of ideals by which we are guided in life and that theseideals may be compared to lighthouses and lanterns. By means of thelighthouse, remote and lofty, we are able to lay a course and to know atany time whether we are headed in the right direction. But while we aremoving along a difficult road we need more immediate illumination toavoid the mudholes and stumbling-places close at hand. We need thehumble lantern to show us where we may safely step. Fables are lanterns by which our feet are guided. They embody thepractical rules for everyday uses, rules of prudence that have beentested and approved by untold generations of travelers along the arduousroad of life. They chart only minor dangers and difficult places as arule, but these are the ones with which we are always in direct contact. Being honest because it is the "best policy" is not the highest reasonfor honesty, but it is what a practical world has found to be best inpractice. Fables simply give us the "rules of the road, " and these rulescontribute greatly to our convenience and safety. Such rules are theresult of the common sense of man working upon his everyday problems. Toviolate one of these practical rules is to be a blunderer, andblundering is a subject for jest rather than bitter denouncement. Hencethe humorous and satirical note in fables. The practical, self-made men of the world, who have done things andinspired others to do them, have always placed great emphasis uponcommon-sense ideals. Benjamin Franklin, by his _Poor Richard's Almanac_, kept the incentives to industry and thrift before a people who needed topractice these everyday rules if they were to conquer an unwillingwilderness. So well did he do his work that after nearly two hundredyears we are still quoting his pithy sayings. It may be that hisproverbs were all borrowed, but the rules of the road are not mattersfor constant experiment. Again, no account of Abraham Lincoln can omithis use of Æsop or of Æsop-like stories to enforce his ideas. His homelystories were so "pat" that there was nothing left for the opposition tosay. Only one who grasps the heart of a problem can use concreteillustrations with such effect. No one really questions the truths enforced by the more familiar fables. But since these teachings are so commonplace and obvious, they cannot beimpressed upon us by mere repetition of the teachings as such. To securethe emphasis needed the world gradually evolved a body of strikingstories and proverbs by which the standing rules of everyday life aredisplayed in terms that cling like burrs. "The peculiar value of thefable, " says Dr. Adler, "is that they are instantaneous photographs, which reproduce, as it were, in a single flash of light, some one aspectof human nature, and which, excluding everything else, permit the entireattention to be fixed on that one. " _Æsop and Bidpai. _ The type of fable in mind in the above account isthat known as the Æsopic, a brief beast-story in which the charactersare, as a rule, conventionalized animals, and which points out somepractical moral. The fox may represent crafty people, the ass mayrepresent stupid people, the wind may represent boisterous people, thetortoise may represent plodding people who "keep everlastingly at it. "When human beings are introduced, such as the Shepherd Boy, orAndrocles, or the Travelers, or the Milkmaid, they are as whollyconventionalized as the animals and there is never any doubt as to theirmotives. Æsop, if he ever existed at all, is said to have been a Greekslave of the sixth century B. C. , very ugly and clever, who used fablesorally for political purposes and succeeded in gaining his freedom and ahigh position. Later writers, among them Demetrius of Phalerum about 300B. C. And Phaedrus about 30 A. D. , made versions of fables ascribed toÆsop. Many writers in the Middle Ages brought together increasingnumbers of fables under Æsop's name and enlarged upon the fewtraditional facts in Herodotus about Æsop himself until several hundredfables and an elaborate biography of the supposed author were inexistence. Joseph Jacobs said he had counted as many as 700 differentfables going under Æsop's name. The number included in a present-daybook of Æsop usually varies from 200 to 350. Another name associatedwith the making of fables is that of Bidpai (or Pilpay), said to havebeen a philosopher attached to the court of some oriental king. Bidpai, a name which means "head scholar, " is a more shadowy figure even thanÆsop. What we can be sure of is that there were two centers, Greece andIndia, from which fables were diffused. Whether they all came originallyfrom a single source, and, if so, what that source was, are questionsstill debated by scholars. _Modern fabulists. _ Modern fables are no more possible than a new MotherGoose or a new fairy story. For modern times the method of the fable is"at once too simple and too roundabout. Too roundabout; for the truthswe have to tell we prefer to speak out directly and not by way ofallegory. And the truths the fable has to teach are too simple tocorrespond to the facts in our complex civilization. " No modern fabulisthas duplicated in his field the success of Hans Christian Andersen inthe field of the nursery story. A few fables from La Fontaine, a fewfrom Krylov, one or two each from Gay, Cowper, Yriarte, and Lessing maybe used to good advantage with children. The general broadening ofliterary variety has, of course, given us in recent times many valuablestories of the symbolistic kind. Suggestive parable-like or allegoricalstories, such as a few of Hawthorne's in _Twice Told Tales_ and _Mossesfrom an Old Manse_, or a few of Tolstoy's short tales, are simple enoughfor children. _The use of fables in school. _ Not all fables are good for educationalpurposes. There is, however, plenty of room for choice, and those thatpresent points of view no longer accepted by the modern world should beeliminated from the list. Objections based on the unreality of thefables, their "unnatural natural history, " are hardly valid. Rousseau'selimination of fables from his scheme of education in _Emile_ is basedon this objection and on the further point that the child will oftensympathize with the wrong character in the story, thus going astray inthe moral lesson. Other objectors down to the present day simply echoRousseau. Such a view does little justice to the child's natural senseof values. He is certain to see that the Frog is foolish in competingwith the Ox in size, and certain to recognize the common sense of theCountry Mouse. He will no more be deceived by a fable than he will bythe painted clown in a circus. The oral method of presentation is the ideal one. Tell the story in asvivid a form as possible. In the earlier grades the interest in thestory may be a sufficient end, but almost from the beginning childrenwill see the lesson intended. They will catch the phrases that have comefrom fables into our everyday speech. Thus, "sour grapes, " "dog in themanger, " "to blow hot and cold, " "to kill the goose that lays the goldeneggs, " "to cry 'Wolf!'" will take on more significant meanings. If somefamiliar proverb goes hand in hand with the story, it will help thepoint to take fast hold in the mind. Applications of the fable to realevents should be encouraged. That is what fables were made for and thatis where their chief value for us is still manifest. Only a short timeneed be spent on any one fable, but every opportunity should be taken tocall up and apply the fables already learned. For they are not merelyfor passing amusement, nor is their value confined to childhood. Listento John Locke, one of the "hardest-headed" of philosophers: "As soon asa child has learned to read, it is desirable to place in his handspleasant books, suited to his capacity, wherein the entertainment thathe finds might draw him on, and reward his pains in reading; and yet notsuch as should fill his head with perfectly useless trumpery, or lay theprinciples of vice and folly. To this purpose I think _Æsop's Fables_the best, which being stories apt to delight and entertain a child, mayyet afford useful reflections to a grown man, and if his memory retainthem all his life after, he will not repent to find them there, amongsthis manly thoughts and serious business. " The best Æsop collection for teachers and pupils alike is _The Fables of Æsop_, edited by Joseph Jacobs. It contains eighty-two selected fables, including those that are most familiar and most valuable for children. The versions are standards of what such retellings should be, and may well serve as models for teachers in their presentation of other short symbolic stories. The introduction, "A Short History of the Æsopic Fable, " and the notes at the end of the book contain, in concise form, all the practical information needed. The text of the Jacobs versions was the one selected for reproduction in Dr. Eliot's _Harvard Classics_. Nos. 205, 206, 207, 208, 209, 213, and 233 in the following group are by Mr. Jacobs. The other Æsopic fables given are from various collections of the traditional versions. Almost any of the many reprints called Æsop are satisfactory for fables not found in Jacobs. Perhaps the one most common in recent times is that made by Thomas James in 1848, which had the good fortune to be illustrated by Tenniel. The versions are brief and not overloaded with editorial "filling. " 205 THE SHEPHERD'S BOY There was once a young Shepherd Boy who tended his sheep at the foot ofa mountain near a dark forest. It was rather lonely for him all day, sohe thought upon a plan by which he could get a little company and someexcitement. He rushed down towards the village calling out "Wolf! Wolf!"and the villagers came out to meet him, and some of them stopped withhim for a considerable time. This pleased the boy so much that a fewdays afterwards he tried the same trick, and again the villagers came tohis help. But shortly after this a Wolf actually did come out from theforest, and began to worry the sheep, and the boy of course cried out"Wolf! Wolf!" still louder than before. But this time the villagers, whohad been fooled twice before, thought the boy was again deceiving them, and nobody stirred to come to his help. So the Wolf made a good meal offthe boy's flock, and when the boy complained, the wise man of thevillage said: "_A liar will not be believed, even when he speaks the truth. _" 206 THE LION AND THE MOUSE Once when a Lion was asleep a little Mouse began running up and downupon him; this soon wakened the Lion, who placed his huge paw upon himand opened his big jaws to swallow him. "Pardon, O King, " cried thelittle Mouse; "forgive me this time; I shall never forget it. Who knowsbut what I may be able to do you a good turn some of these days?" TheLion was so tickled at the idea of the Mouse being able to help him, that he lifted up his paw and let him go. Some time after the Lion wascaught in a trap, and the hunters, who desired to carry him alive to theKing, tied him to a tree while they went in search of a wagon to carryhim on. Just then the little Mouse happened to pass by, and seeing thesad plight in which the Lion was, went up to him and soon gnawed awaythe ropes that bound the King of the Beasts. "Was I not right?" said thelittle Mouse. _Little friends may prove great friends. _ 207 THE CROW AND THE PITCHER A Crow, half-dead with thirst, came upon a Pitcher which had once beenfull of water; but when the Crow put its beak into the mouth of thePitcher he found that only very little water was left in it, and that hecould not reach far enough down to get at it. He tried and he tried, butat last had to give up in despair. Then a thought came to him, and hetook a pebble and dropped it into the Pitcher. Then he took anotherpebble and dropped it into the Pitcher. Then he took another pebble anddropped that into the Pitcher. Then he took another pebble and droppedthat into the Pitcher. Then he took another pebble and dropped that intothe Pitcher. Then he took another pebble and dropped that into thePitcher. At last, at last, he saw the water mount up near him; and aftercasting in a few more pebbles he was able to quench his thirst and savehis life. _Little by little does the trick. _ 208 THE FROG AND THE OX "Oh, Father, " said a little Frog to the big one sitting by the side of apool, "I have seen such a terrible monster! It was as big as a mountain, with horns on its head, and a long tail, and it had hoofs divided intwo. " "Tush, child, tush, " said the old Frog, "that was only Farmer White'sOx. It isn't so big either; he may be a little bit taller than I, but Icould easily make myself quite as broad; just you see. " So he blewhimself out, and blew himself out, and blew himself out. "Was he as bigas that?" asked he. "Oh, much bigger than that, " said the young Frog. Again the old one blew himself out, and asked the young one if the Oxwas as big as that. "Bigger, Father, bigger, " was the reply. So the Frog took a deep breath, and blew and blew and blew, and swelledand swelled and swelled. And then he said: "I'm sure the Ox is not asbig as--" But at this moment he burst. _Self-conceit may lead to self-destruction. _ 209 THE FROGS DESIRING A KING Frogs were living as happy as could be in a marshy swamp that justsuited them; they went splashing about, caring for nobody and nobodytroubling with them. But some of them thought that this was not right, that they should have a king and a proper constitution, so theydetermined to send up a petition to Jove to give them what they wanted. "Mighty Jove, " they cried, "send unto us a king that will rule over usand keep us in order. " Jove laughed at their croaking, and threw downinto the swamp a huge Log, which came down--kersplash--into the water. The Frogs were frightened out of their lives by the commotion made intheir midst, and all rushed to the bank to look at the horrible monster;but after a time, seeing that it did not move, one or two of the boldestof them ventured out towards the Log, and even dared to touch it; stillit did not move. Then the greatest hero of the Frogs jumped upon the Logand commenced dancing up and down upon it; thereupon all the Frogs cameand did the same; and for some time the Frogs went about their businessevery day without taking the slightest notice of their new King Loglying in their midst. But this did not suit them, so they sent anotherpetition to Jove, and said to him: "We want a real king; one that willreally rule over us. " Now this made Jove angry, so he sent among them abig Stork that soon set to work gobbling them all up. Then the Frogsrepented when too late. _Better no rule than cruel rule. _ 210 The following fable is found in the folklore of many countries. Its lesson of consolation for those who are not blessed with abundance of worldly goods may account for its widespread popularity. Independence and freedom from fear have advantages that make up for poorer fare. THE FIELD MOUSE AND THE TOWN MOUSE A Field Mouse had a friend who lived in a house in town. Now the TownMouse was asked by the Field Mouse to dine with him, and out he went andsat down to a meal of corn and wheat. "Do you know, my friend, " said he, "that you live a mere ant's life outhere? Why, I have all kinds of things at home. Come, and enjoy them. " So the two set off for town, and there the Town Mouse showed his beansand meal, his dates, too, and his cheese and fruit and honey. And as theField Mouse ate, drank, and was merry, he thought how rich his friendwas, and how poor he was. But as they ate, a man all at once opened the door, and the Mice were insuch a fear that they ran into a crack. Then, when they would eat some nice figs, in came a maid to get a pot ofhoney or a bit of cheese; and when they saw her, they hid in a hole. Then the Field Mouse would eat no more, but said to the Town Mouse, "Doas you like, my good friend; eat all you want and have your fill of goodthings, but you will be always in fear of your life. As for me, poorMouse, who have only corn and wheat, I will live on at home in no fearof any one. " 211 This simple poem is based upon the old fable preceding. It does not follow out the idea of the fable, but limits itself to awakening our sympathy for the garden mouse. THE CITY MOUSE AND THE GARDEN MOUSE CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI The city mouse lives in a house;-- The garden mouse lives in a bower; He's friendly with the frogs and toads, And sees the pretty plants in flower. The city mouse eats bread and cheese;-- The garden mouse eats what he can; We will not grudge him seeds and stocks, Poor little timid furry man. 212 The most famous use of this fable in literature is found in the _Satires_ of the great Roman poet, Horace (B. C. 65-8). He is regarded as one of the most polished of writers, and the ancient world's most truthful painter of social life and manners. Horace had a country seat among the Sabine hills to which he could retire from the worries and distractions of the world. His delight in his Sabine farm is shown clearly in his handling of the story. The passage is a part of Book II, Satire 6, and is in Conington's translation. Some well-known appearances of this same fable in English poetry may be found in Prior and Montagu's _City Mouse and Country Mouse_ and in Pope's _Imitations of Horace_. THE COUNTRY MOUSE AND THE TOWN MOUSE HORACE One day a country mouse in his poor home Received an ancient friend, a mouse from Rome. The host, though close and careful, to a guest Could open still; so now he did his best. He spares not oats or vetches; in his chaps Raisins he brings, and nibbled bacon-scraps, Hoping by varied dainties to entice His town-bred guest, so delicate and nice. Who condescended graciously to touch Thing after thing, but never would take much, While he, the owner of the mansion, sate On threshed-out straw, and spelt and darnels ate. At length the town mouse cries, "I wonder how You can live here, friend, on this hill's rough brow! Take my advice, and leave these ups and downs, This hill and dale, for humankind and towns. Come, now, go home with me; remember, all Who live on earth are mortal, great and small. Then take, good sir, your pleasure while you may; With life so short, 'twere wrong to lose a day. " This reasoning made the rustic's head turn round; Forth from his hole he issues with a bound, And they two make together for their mark, In hopes to reach the city during dark. The midnight sky was bending over all, When they set foot within a stately hall, Where couches of wrought ivory had been spread With gorgeous coverlets of Tyrian red, And viands piled up high in baskets lay, The relics of a feast of yesterday. The town mouse does the honors, lays his guest At ease upon a couch with crimson dressed, Then nimbly moves in character of host, And offers in succession boiled and roast; Nay, like a well-trained slave, each wish prevents, And tastes before the titbits he presents. The guest, rejoicing in his altered fare, Assumes in turn a genial diner's air, When, hark, a sudden banging of the door! Each from his couch is tumbled on the floor. Half dead, they scurry round the room, poor things, While the whole house with barking mastiffs rings. Then says the rustic, "It may do for you, This life, but I don't like it; so, adieu. Give me my hole, secure from all alarms; I'll prove that tares and vetches still have charms. " 213 The following is the Androcles story as retold by Jacobs. Scholars think this fable is clearly oriental in its origin, constituting as it does a sort of appeal to tyrannical rulers for leniency toward their subjects. ANDROCLES A Slave named Androcles once escaped from his master and fled to theforest. As he was wandering about there he came upon a Lion lying downmoaning and groaning. At first he turned to flee, but finding that theLion did not pursue him, he turned back and went up to him. As he camenear, the Lion put out his paw, which was all swollen and bleeding, andAndrocles found that a huge thorn had got into it, and was causing allthe pain. He pulled out the thorn and bound up the paw of the Lion, whowas soon able to rise and lick the hand of Androcles like a dog. Thenthe Lion took Androcles to his cave, and every day used to bring himmeat from which to live. But shortly afterwards both Androcles and theLion were captured, and the slave was sentenced to be thrown to theLion, after the latter had been kept without food for several days. TheEmperor and all his Court came to see the spectacle, and Androcles wasled out into the middle of the arena. Soon the Lion was let loose fromhis den, and rushed bounding and roaring towards his victim. But as soonas he came near to Androcles he recognized his friend, and fawned uponhim, and licked his hands like a friendly dog. The Emperor, surprised atthis, summoned Androcles to him, who told him the whole story. Whereuponthe slave was pardoned and freed, and the Lion let loose to his nativeforest. _Gratitude is the sign of noble souls. _ 214 The preceding fable is here given in the form used in Thomas Day's very famous, but probably little read, _History of Sandford and Merton_. (See No. 380. ) Day's use of the story is probably responsible for its modern popularity. Jacobs points out that it dropped out of Æsop, although it was in some of the medieval fable books. A very similar tale, "Of the Remembrance of Benefits, " is in the _Gesta Romanorum_ (Tale 104). The most striking use of the fable in modern literature is in George Bernard Shaw's play _Androcles_. It will be instructive to compare the force of Day's rather heavy and slow telling of the story with that of the concise, unelaborated version by Jacobs. ANDROCLES AND THE LION THOMAS DAY There was a certain slave named Androcles, who was so ill-treated by hismaster that his life became insupportable. Finding no remedy for what hesuffered, he at length said to himself, "It is better to die than tocontinue to live in such hardships and misery as I am obliged to suffer. I am determined therefore to run away from my master. If I am takenagain, I know that I shall be punished with a cruel death; but it isbetter to die at once than to live in misery. If I escape, I must betakemyself to deserts and woods, inhabited only by wild beasts; but theycannot use me more cruelly than I have been used by my fellow-creatures. Therefore I will rather trust myself with them than continue to be amiserable slave. " Having formed this resolution, he took an opportunity of leaving hismaster's house, and hid himself in a thick forest, which was at somemiles' distance from the city. But here the unhappy man found that hehad only escaped from one kind of misery to experience another. Hewandered about all day through a vast and trackless wood, where hisflesh was continually torn by thorns and brambles. He grew hungry, butcould find no food in this dreary solitude. At length he was ready todie with fatigue, and lay down in despair in a large cavern which hefound by accident. This unfortunate man had not lain long quiet in the cavern, before heheard a dreadful noise, which seemed to be the roar of some wild beast, and terrified him very much. He started up with a design to escape andhad already reached the mouth of the cave when he saw coming towards hima lion of prodigious size, who prevented any possibility of retreat. Theunfortunate man then believed his destruction to be inevitable; but, tohis great astonishment, the beast advanced towards him with a gentlepace, without any mark of enmity or rage, and uttered a kind of mournfulvoice, as if he demanded the assistance of the man. Androcles, who was naturally of a resolute disposition, acquired couragefrom this circumstance, to examine his monstrous guest, who gave himsufficient leisure for that purpose. He saw, as the lion approached him, that he seemed to limp upon one of his legs and that the foot wasextremely swelled as if it had been wounded. Acquiring still morefortitude from the gentle demeanor of the beast, he advanced up to himand took hold of the wounded paw, as a surgeon would examine a patient. He then perceived that a thorn of uncommon size had penetrated the ballof the foot and was the occasion of the swelling and lameness he hadobserved. Androcles found that the beast, far from resenting thisfamiliarity, received it with the greatest gentleness and seemed toinvite him by his blandishments to proceed. He therefore extracted thethorn, and, pressing the swelling, discharged a considerable quantity ofmatter, which had been the cause of so much pain and uneasiness. As soon as the beast felt himself thus relieved, he began to testify hisjoy and gratitude by every expression within his power. He jumped aboutlike a wanton spaniel, wagged his enormous tail, and licked the feet andhands of his physician. Nor was he contented with these demonstrationsof kindness; from this moment Androcles became his guest; nor did thelion ever sally forth in quest of prey without bringing home the produceof his chase and sharing it with his friend. In this savage state ofhospitality did the man continue to live during the space of severalmonths. At length, wandering unguardedly through the woods, he met witha company of soldiers sent out to apprehend him, and was by them takenprisoner and conducted back to his master. The laws of that countrybeing very severe against slaves, he was tried and found guilty ofhaving fled from his master, and, as a punishment for his pretendedcrime, he was sentenced to be torn in pieces by a furious lion, keptmany days without food to inspire him with additional rage. When the destined moment arrived, the unhappy man was exposed, unarmed, in the midst of a spacious area, enclosed on every side, round whichmany thousand people were assembled to view the mournful spectacle. Presently a dreadful yell was heard, which struck the spectators withhorror; and a monstrous lion rushed out of a den, which was purposelyset open, and darted forward with erected mane, and flaming eyes, andjaws that gaped like an open sepulchre. --A mournful silence instantlyprevailed! All eyes were turned upon the destined victim, whosedestruction now appeared inevitable. But the pity of the multitude wassoon converted into astonishment, when they beheld the lion, instead ofdestroying his defenceless prey, crouch submissively at his feet; fawnupon him as a faithful dog would do upon his master, and rejoice overhim as a mother that unexpectedly recovers her offspring. The governorof the town, who was present, then called out with a loud voice andordered Androcles to explain to them this unintelligible mystery, andhow a savage beast of the fiercest and most unpitying nature should thusin a moment have forgotten his innate disposition, and be converted intoa harmless and inoffensive animal. Androcles then related to the assembly every circumstance of hisadventures in the woods, and concluded by saying that the very lionwhich now stood before them had been his friend and entertainer in thewoods. All the persons present were astonished and delighted with thestory, to find that even the fiercest beasts are capable of beingsoftened by gratitude and moved by humanity; and they unanimously joinedto entreat for the pardon of the unhappy man from the governor of theplace. This was immediately granted to him, and he was also presentedwith the lion, who had in this manner twice saved the life of Androcles. 215 THE WIND AND THE SUN A dispute once arose between the North Wind and the Sun as to which wasthe stronger of the two. Seeing a Traveler on his way, they agreed totry which could the sooner get his cloak off him. The North Wind began, and sent a furious blast, which, at the onset, nearly tore the cloakfrom its fastenings; but the Traveler, seizing the garment with a firmgrip, held it round his body so tightly that Boreas spent his remainingforce in vain. The Sun, dispelling the clouds that had gathered, then darted his genialbeams on the Traveler's head. Growing faint with the heat, the Man flungoff his coat and ran for protection to the nearest shade. _Mildness governs more than anger. _ 216 The following brief fable has given us one of the best known expressions in common speech, "killing the goose that lays the golden eggs. " People who never heard of Æsop know what that expression means. It is easy to connect the fable with our "get rich quick" craze. (Compare with No. 254. ) THE GOOSE WITH THE GOLDEN EGGS A certain Man had a Goose that laid him a golden egg every day. Being ofa covetous turn, he thought if he killed his Goose he should come atonce to the source of his treasure. So he killed her and cut her open, but great was his dismay to find that her inside was in no way differentfrom that of any other goose. _Greediness overreaches itself. _ 217 The most successful of modern literary fabulists was the French poet Jean de la Fontaine (1621-1695). A famous critic has said that his fables delight the child with their freshness and vividness, the student of literature with their consummate art, and the experienced man with their subtle reflections on life and character. He drew most of his stories from Æsop and other sources. While he dressed the old fables in the brilliant style of his own day, he still succeeded in being essentially simple and direct. A few of his 240 fables may be used to good effect with children, though they have their main charm for the more sophisticated older reader. (See Nos. 234, 241, and 242. ) The best complete translation is that made in 1841 by Elizur Wright, an American scholar. The following version is from his translation. Notice that La Fontaine has changed the goose to a hen. THE HEN WITH THE GOLDEN EGGS LA FONTAINE How avarice loseth all, By striving all to gain, I need no witness call But him whose thrifty hen, As by the fable we are told, Laid every day an egg of gold. "She hath a treasure in her body, " Bethinks the avaricious noddy. He kills and opens--vexed to find All things like hens of common kind. Thus spoil'd the source of all his riches, To misers he a lesson teaches. In these last changes of the moon, How often doth one see Men made as poor as he By force of getting rich too soon! 218 THE WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING A Wolf wrapped himself in the skin of a Sheep and by that means gotadmission into a sheep-fold, where he devoured several of the youngLambs. The Shepherd, however, soon found him out and hung him up to atree, still in his disguise. Some other Shepherds, passing that way, thought it was a Sheep hanging, and cried to their friend, "What, brother! is that the way you serveSheep in this part of the country?" "No, friends, " cried he, turning the hanging body around so that theymight see what it was; "but it is the way to serve Wolves, even thoughthey be dressed in Sheep's clothing. " _The credit got by a lie lasts only till the truth comes out. _ 219 THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE The Hare one day laughed at the Tortoise for his short feet, slowness, and awkwardness. "Though you may be swift as the wind, " replied the Tortoisegood-naturedly, "I can beat you in a race. " The Hare looked on the challenge as a great joke, but consented to atrial of speed, and the Fox was selected to act as umpire and hold thestakes. The rivals started, and the Hare, of course, soon left the Tortoise farbehind. Having reached midway to the goal, she began to play about, nibble the young herbage, and amuse herself in many ways. The day beingwarm, she even thought she would take a little nap in a shady spot, forshe thought that if the Tortoise should pass her while she slept, shecould easily overtake him again before he reached the end. The Tortoise meanwhile plodded on, unwavering and unresting, straighttowards the goal. The Hare, having overslept herself, started up from her nap and wassurprised to find that the Tortoise was nowhere in sight. Off she wentat full speed, but on reaching the winning-post, found that the Tortoisewas already there, waiting for her arrival. _Slow and steady wins the race. _ 220 THE MILLER, HIS SON, AND THEIR ASS A Miller and his Son were driving their Ass to a neighboring fair tosell him. They had not gone far when they met with a troop of womencollected round a well, talking and laughing. "Look there, " cried one of them, "did you ever see such fellows, to betrudging along the road on foot when they might ride?" The Miller, hearing this, quickly made his Son mount the Ass, andcontinued to walk along merrily by his side. Presently they came up to agroup of old men in earnest debate. "There, " said one of them, "it proves what I was saying. What respect isshown to old age in these days? Do you see that idle lad riding whilehis old father has to walk? Get down, you young scapegrace, and let theold man rest his weary limbs. " Upon this, the Miller made his Son dismount, and got up himself. In thismanner they had not proceeded far when they met a company of women andchildren. "Why, you lazy old fellow, " cried several tongues at once, "how can youride upon the beast while that poor little lad there can hardly keeppace by the side of you?" The good-natured Miller immediately took up his Son behind him. They hadnow almost reached the town. "Pray, honest friend, " said a citizen, "is that Ass your own?" "Yes, " replied the old man. "Oh, one would not have thought so, " said the other, "by the way youload him. Why, you two fellows are better able to carry the poor beastthan he you. " "Anything to please you, " said the Miller; "we can but try. " So, alighting with his Son, they tied the legs of the Ass together, andby the help of a pole endeavored to carry him on their shoulders over abridge near the entrance of the town. This entertaining sight broughtthe people in crowds to laugh at it, till the Ass, not liking the noisenor the strange handling that he was subject to, broke the cords thatbound him and, tumbling off the pole, fell into the river. Upon this, the old man, vexed and ashamed, made the best of his way home again, convinced that by trying to please everybody he had pleased nobody, andlost his Ass into the bargain. _He who tries to please everybody pleases nobody. _ 221 THE TRAVELERS AND THE BEAR Two Men, about to journey through a forest, agreed to stand by eachother in any dangers that might befall. They had not gone far before asavage Bear rushed out from a thicket and stood in their path. One ofthe Travelers, a light, nimble fellow, got up into a tree. The other, seeing that there was no chance to defend himself single-handed, fellflat on his face and held his breath. The Bear came up and smelled athim, and taking him for dead, went off again into the wood. The Man inthe tree came down and, rejoining his companion, asked him, with a slysmile, what was the wonderful secret which he had seen the Bear whisperinto his ear. "Why, " replied the other, "he told me to take care for the future andnot to put any confidence in such cowardly rascals as you are. " _Trust not fine promises. _ 222 THE LARK AND HER YOUNG ONES A Lark, who had Young Ones in a field of grain which was almost ripe, was afraid that the reapers would come before her young brood werefledged. So every day when she flew off to look for food, she chargedthem to take note of what they heard in her absence and to tell her ofit when she came home. One day when she was gone, they heard the owner of the field say to hisson that the grain seemed ripe enough to be cut, and tell him to goearly the next day and ask their friends and neighbors to come and helpreap it. When the old Lark came home, the Little Ones quivered and chirped roundher and told her what had happened, begging her to take them away asfast as she could. The mother bade them be easy; "for, " said she, "if hedepends on his friends and his neighbors, I am sure the grain will notbe reaped tomorrow. " Next day she went out again and left the same orders as before. Theowner came, and waited. The sun grew hot, but nothing was done, for nota soul came. "You see, " said the owner to his son, "these friends ofours are not to be depended upon; so run off at once to your uncles andcousins, and say I wish them to come early to-morrow morning and help usreap. " This the Young Ones, in a great fright, told also to their mother. "Donot fear, children, " said she. "Kindred and relations are not alwaysvery forward in helping one another; but keep your ears open and let meknow what you hear to-morrow. " The owner came the next day, and, finding his relations as backward ashis neighbors, said to his son, "Now listen to me. Get two good sicklesready for to-morrow morning, for it seems we must reap the grain byourselves. " The Young Ones told this to their mother. "Then, my dears, " said she, "it is time for us to go; for when a manundertakes to do his work himself, it is not so likely that he will bedisappointed. " She took away her Young Ones at once, and the grain wasreaped the next day by the old man and his son. _Depend upon yourself alone. _ 223 THE OLD MAN AND HIS SONS An Old Man had several Sons, who were always falling out with oneanother. He had often, but to no purpose, exhorted them to live togetherin harmony. One day he called them around him and, producing a bundle ofsticks, bade them try each in turn to break it across. Each put forthall his strength, but the bundle resisted their efforts. Then, cuttingthe cord which bound the sticks together, he told his Sons to break themseparately. This was done with the greatest ease. "See, my Sons, " exclaimed he, "the power of unity! Bound together bybrotherly love, you may defy almost every mortal ill; divided, you willfall a prey to your enemies. " _A house divided against itself cannot stand. _ 224 THE FOX AND THE GRAPES A Fox, just at the time of the vintage, stole into a vineyard where theripe sunny Grapes were trellised up on high in most tempting show. Hemade many a spring and a jump after the luscious prize; but, failing inall his attempts, he muttered as he retreated, "Well! what does itmatter! The Grapes are sour!" 225 THE WIDOW AND THE HEN A Widow woman kept a Hen that laid an egg every morning. Thought thewoman to herself, "If I double my Hen's allowance of barley, she willlay twice a day. " So she tried her plan, and the Hen became so fat andsleek that she left off laying at all. _Figures are not always facts. _ 226 THE KID AND THE WOLF A Kid being mounted on the roof of a lofty house and seeing a Wolf passbelow, began to revile him. The Wolf merely stopped to reply, "Coward!It is not you who revile me, but the place on which you are standing. " 227 THE MAN AND THE SATYR A Man and a Satyr having struck up an acquaintance, sat down together toeat. The day being wintry and cold, the Man put his fingers to his mouthand blew upon them. "What's that for, my friend?" asked the Satyr. "My hands are so cold, " said the Man, "I do it to warm them. " In a little while some hot food was placed before them, and the Man, raising the dish to his mouth, again blew upon it. "And what's themeaning of that, now?" said the Satyr. "Oh, " replied the Man, "my porridge is so hot I do it to cool it. " "Nay, then, " said the Satyr, "from this moment I renounce yourfriendship, for I will have nothing to do with one who blows hot andcold with the same mouth. " 228 THE DOG AND THE SHADOW A Dog had stolen a piece of meat out of a butcher's shop, and wascrossing a river on his way home, when he saw his own shadow reflectedin the stream below. Thinking that it was another dog with another pieceof meat, he resolved to make himself master of that also; but insnapping at the supposed treasure, he dropped the bit he was carrying, and so lost all. _Grasp at the shadow and lose the substance--the common fate of thosewho hazard a real blessing for some visionary good. _ 229 THE SWALLOW AND THE RAVEN The Swallow and the Raven contended which was the finer bird. The Ravenended by saying, "Your beauty is but for the summer, but mine will standmany winters. " _Durability is better than show. _ 230 MERCURY AND THE WOODMAN A Woodman was felling a tree on the bank of a river, and by chance letslip his axe into the water, when it immediately sank to the bottom. Being thereupon in great distress, he sat down by the side of the streamand lamented his loss bitterly. But Mercury, whose river it was, takingcompassion on him, appeared at the instant before him; and hearing fromhim the cause of his sorrow, dived to the bottom of the river, andbringing up a golden axe, asked the Woodman if that were his. Upon theMan's denying it, Mercury dived a second time, and brought up one ofsilver. Again the Man denied that it was his. So diving a third time, heproduced the identical axe which the Man had lost. "That is mine!" saidthe Woodman, delighted to have recovered his own; and so pleased wasMercury with the fellow's truth and honesty that he at once made him apresent of the other two. The Man goes to his companions, and giving them an account of what hadhappened to him, one of them determined to try whether he might not havethe like good fortune. So repairing to the same place, as if for thepurpose of cutting wood, he let slip his axe on purpose into the riverand then sat down on the bank and made a great show of weeping. Mercuryappeared as before, and hearing from him that his tears were caused bythe loss of his axe, dived once more into the stream; and bringing up agolden axe, asked him if that was the axe he had lost. "Aye, surely, " said the Man, eagerly; and he was about to grasp thetreasure, when Mercury, to punish his impudence and lying, not onlyrefused to give him that, but would not so much as restore him his ownaxe again. _Honesty is the best policy. _ 231 THE MICE IN COUNCIL Once upon a time the Mice being sadly distressed by the persecution ofthe Cat, resolved to call a meeting to decide upon the best means ofgetting rid of this continual annoyance. Many plans were discussed andrejected. At last a young Mouse got up and proposed that a Bell should be hunground the Cat's neck, that they might for the future always have noticeof her coming and so be able to escape. This proposition was hailed withthe greatest applause, and was agreed to at once unanimously. Upon this, an old Mouse, who had sat silent all the while, got up and said that heconsidered the contrivance most ingenious, and that it would, no doubt, be quite successful; but he had only one short question to put; namely, which of them it was who would Bell the Cat? _It is one thing to propose, another to execute. _ 232 THE MOUNTEBANK AND THE COUNTRYMAN A certain wealthy patrician, intending to treat the Roman people withsome theatrical entertainment, publicly offered a reward to any one whowould produce a novel spectacle. Incited by emulation, artists arrivedfrom all parts to contest the prize, among whom a well-known wittyMountebank gave out that he had a new kind of entertainment that hadnever yet been produced on any stage. This report, being spread abroad, brought the whole city together. The theater could hardly contain thenumber of spectators. And when the artist appeared alone upon the stage, without any apparatus or any assistants, curiosity and suspense keptthe spectators in profound silence. On a sudden he thrust down his headinto his bosom, and mimicked the squeaking of a young pig so naturallythat the audience insisted upon it that he had one under his cloak andordered him to be searched, which, being done and nothing appearing, they loaded him with the most extravagant applause. A Countryman among the audience observed what passed. "Oh!" says he, "Ican do better than this"; and immediately gave out that he would performthe next day. Accordingly on the morrow a yet greater crowd wascollected. Prepossessed, however, in favor of the Mountebank, they camerather to laugh at the Countryman than to pass a fair judgment on him. They both came out upon the stage. The Mountebank grunts away at first, and calls forth the greatest clapping and applause. Then the Countryman, pretending that he concealed a little pig under his garments (and hehad, in fact, really got one) pinched its ear till he made it squeak. The people cried out that the Mountebank had imitated the pig much morenaturally, and hooted to the Countryman to quit the stage; but he, toconvict them to their face, produced the real pig from his bosom. "Andnow, gentlemen, you may see, " said he, "what a pretty sort of judges youare!" _It is easier to convict a man against his senses than against hiswill. _ 233 Stories dealing with the disastrous effects of "day-dreaming" are very common in the world's literature. The three selections that follow are given as very familiar samples for comparison. The first is a simple version by Jacobs. THE MILKMAID AND HER PAIL Patty, the Milkmaid, was going to market, carrying her milk in a Pail onher head. As she went along she began calculating what she could do withthe money she would get for the milk. "I'll buy some fowls from FarmerBrown, " said she, "and they will lay eggs each morning, which I willsell to the parson's wife. With the money that I get from the sale ofthese eggs I'll buy myself a new dimity frock and a chip hat; and when Igo to market, won't all the young men come up and speak to me! PollyShaw will be that jealous; but I don't care. I shall just look at herand toss my head like this. " As she spoke, she tossed her head back, thePail fell off it and all the milk was spilt. So she had to go home andtell her mother what had occurred. "Ah, my child, " said her mother, "_Do not count your chickens before they are hatched. _" 234 The next is Wright's translation of La Fontaine's famous fable on the day-dreaming theme. Notice how much more complicated its application becomes in contrast with the obvious truth of the proverb in the preceding version. La Fontaine is responsible for the story's popularity in modern times. The most fascinating study on the way fables have come down to us is Max Müller's "On the Migration of Fables, " in which he follows this story from India through all its many changes until it reaches us in La Fontaine. THE DAIRYWOMAN AND THE POT OF MILK LA FONTAINE A pot of milk upon her cushioned crown, Good Peggy hastened to the market town, Short clad and light, with speed she went, Not fearing any accident; Indeed, to be the nimble tripper, Her dress that day, The truth to say, Was simple petticoat and slipper. And thus bedight, Good Peggy, light, -- Her gains already counted, -- Laid out the cash At single dash, Which to a hundred eggs amounted. Three nests she made, Which, by the aid Of diligence and care, were hatched. "To raise the chicks, I'll easy fix, " Said she, "beside our cottage thatched. The fox must get More cunning yet, Or leave enough to buy a pig. With little care And any fare, He'll grow quite fat and big; And then the price Will be so nice, For which the pork will sell! Twill go quite hard But in our yard I'll bring a cow and calf to dwell-- A calf to frisk among the flock!" The thought made Peggy do the same; And down at once the milk-pot came, And perished with the shock. Calf, cow, and pig, and chicks, adieu! Your mistress' face is sad to view; She gives a tear to fortune spilt; Then with the downcast look of guilt Home to her husband empty goes, Somewhat in danger of his blows. Who buildeth not, sometimes, in air His cots, or seats, or castles fair? From kings to dairywomen, --all, -- The wise, the foolish, great and small, -- Each thinks his waking dream the best. Some flattering error fills the breast: The world with all its wealth is ours, Its honors, dames, and loveliest bowers. Instinct with valor, when alone, I hurl the monarch from his throne; The people, glad to see him dead, Elect me monarch in his stead, And diadems rain on my head. Some accident then calls me back, And I'm no more than simple Jack. 235 The day-dreaming idea is next presented in the form found in the story of the barber's fifth brother in the _Arabian Nights_. Would this story be any more effective if it had a paragraph at the end stating and emphasizing the moral? THE STORY OF ALNASCHAR Alnaschar, my fifth brother, was very lazy, and of course wretchedlypoor. On the death of our father we divided his property, and each of usreceived a hundred drachms of silver for his share. Alnaschar, who hatedlabor, laid out his money in fine glasses, and having displayed hisstock to the best advantage in a large basket, he took his stand in themarket-place, with his back against the wall, waiting for customers. Inthis posture he indulged in a reverie, talking aloud to himself asfollows: "This glass cost me a hundred drachms of silver, which is all I have inthe world. I shall make two hundred by retailing it, and of these veryshortly four hundred. It will not be long before these produce fourthousand. Money, they say, begets money. I shall soon therefore bepossessed of eight thousand, and when these become ten thousand I willno longer be a glass-seller. I will trade in pearls and diamonds; andas I shall become rich apace, I will have a splendid palace, a greatestate, slaves, and horses; I will not, however, leave traffic till Ihave acquired a hundred thousand drachms. Then I shall be as great as aprince, and will assume manners accordingly. "I will demand the daughter of the grand vizier in marriage, who, nodoubt, will be glad of an alliance with a man of my consequence. Themarriage ceremony shall be performed with the utmost splendor andmagnificence. I will have my horse clothed with the richest housings, ornamented with diamonds and pearls, and will be attended by a number ofslaves, all richly dressed, when I go to the vizier's palace to conductmy wife thence to my own. The vizier shall receive me with great pomp, and shall give me the right hand and place me above himself, to do methe more honor. On my return I will appoint two of my handsomest slavesto throw money among the populace, that every one may speak well of mygenerosity. "When we arrive at my own palace, I will take great state upon me, andhardly speak to my wife. She shall dress herself in all her ornaments, and stand before me as beautiful as the full moon, but I will not lookat her. Her slaves shall draw near and entreat me to cast my eyes uponher; which, after much supplication, I will deign to do, though withgreat indifference. I will not suffer her to come out of her apartmentwithout my leave; and when I have a mind to visit her there, it shall bein a manner that will make her respect me. Thus will I begin early toteach her what she is to expect the rest of her life. "When her mother comes to visit her she will intercede with me for her. 'Sir, ' she will say (for she will not dare to call me son, for fear ofoffending me by so much familiarity), 'do not, I beseech, treat mydaughter with scorn; she is as beautiful as an Houri, and entirelydevoted to you. ' But my mother-in-law may as well hold her peace, for Iwill take no notice of what she says. She will then pour out some wineinto a goblet, and give it to my wife, saying, 'Present it to your lordand husband; he will not surely be so cruel as to refuse it from so faira hand. ' My wife will then come with the glass, and stand tremblingbefore me; and when she finds that I do not look on her, but continue todisdain her, she will kneel and entreat me to accept it; but I willcontinue inflexible. At last, redoubling her tears, she will rise andput the goblet to my lips, when, tired with her importunities, I willdart a terrible look at her and give her such a push with my foot aswill spurn her from me. " Alnaschar was so interested in this imaginarygrandeur that he thrust forth his foot to kick the lady, and by thatmeans overturned his glasses and broke them into a thousand pieces. 236 "The Camel and the Pig" is from P. V. Ramaswami Raju's _Indian Folk Stories and Fables_, an excellent book of adaptations for young readers. The idea that every situation in life has its advantages as well as its disadvantages is one of those common but often overlooked truths which serve so well as the themes of fable. Emerson's "Fable, " the story of the quarrel between the mountain and the squirrel, is a most excellent presentation of the same idea (see No. 363). "The Little Elf, " by John Kendrick Bangs, makes the same point for smaller folks. THE CAMEL AND THE PIG ADAPTED BY P. V. RAMASWAMI RAJU A camel said, "Nothing like being tall! See how tall I am!" A Pig who heard these words said, "Nothing like being short; see howshort I am!" The Camel said, "Well, if I fail to prove the truth of what I said, Iwill give up my hump. " The Pig said, "If I fail to prove the truth of what I have said, I willgive up my snout. " "Agreed!" said the Camel. "Just so!" said the Pig. They came to a garden inclosed by a low wall without any opening. TheCamel stood on this side the wall, and, reaching the plants within bymeans of his long neck, made a breakfast on them. Then he turnedjeeringly to the Pig, who had been standing at the bottom of the wall, without even having a look at the good things in the garden, and said, "Now, would you be tall or short?" Next they came to a garden inclosed by a high wall, with a wicket gateat one end. The Pig entered by the gate and, after having eaten his fillof the vegetables within, came out, laughing at the poor Camel, who hadto stay outside, because he was too tall to enter the garden by thegate, and said, "Now, would you be tall or short?" Then they thought the matter over, and came to the conclusion that theCamel should keep his hump and the Pig his snout, observing, -- "Tall is good, where tall would do; Of short, again, 'tis also true!" 237 Many scholars have believed that all fables originated in India. The great Indian collection of symbolic stories known as Jataka Tales, or Buddhist Birth Stories, has been called "the oldest, most complete, and most important collection of folklore extant. " They are called Birth Stories because each one gives an account of something that happened in connection with the teaching of Buddha in some previous "birth" or incarnation. There are about 550 of these Jatakas, including some 2000 stories. They have now been made accessible in a translation by a group of English scholars and published in six volumes under the general editorship of Professor Cowell. Many of them have long been familiar in eastern collections and have been adapted in recent times for use in schools. Each Jataka is made up of three parts. There is a "story of the present" giving an account of an incident in Buddha's life which calls to his mind a "story of the past" in which he had played a part during a former incarnation. Then, there is a conclusion marking the results. Nos. 237 and 238 are literal translations of Jatakas by T. W. Rhys-Davids in his _Buddhist Birth Stories_. In adapting for children, the stories of the present may be omitted. In fact, everything except the direct story should be eliminated. The "gathas, " or verses, were very important in connection with the original purpose of religious teaching, but are only incumbrances in telling the story either for its own sake or for its moral. THE ASS IN THE LION'S SKIN At the same time when Brahma-datta was reigning in Benares, the futureBuddha was born one of a peasant family; and when he grew up he gainedhis living by tilling the ground. At that time a hawker used to go from place to place, trafficking ingoods carried by an ass. Now at each place he came to, when he took thepack down from the ass's back, he used to clothe him in a lion's skinand turn him loose in the rice and barley fields. And when the watchmenin the fields saw the ass they dared not go near him, taking him for alion. So one day the hawker stopped in a village; and while he was getting hisown breakfast cooked, he dressed the ass in a lion's skin and turned himloose in a barley field. The watchmen in the field dared not go up tohim; but going home, they published the news. Then all the villagerscame out with weapons in their hands; and blowing chanks, and beatingdrums, they went near the field and shouted. Terrified with the fear ofdeath, the ass uttered a cry--the bray of an ass! And when he knew him then to be an ass, the future Buddha pronounced thefirst verse: "This is not a lion's roaring, Nor a tiger's nor a panther's; Dressed in a lion's skin, 'Tis a wretched ass that roars!" But when the villagers knew the creature to be an ass, they beat himtill his bones broke; and, carrying off the lion's skin, went away. Thenthe hawker came; and seeing the ass fallen into so bad a plight, pronounced the second verse: "Long might the ass, Clad in a lion's skin, Have fed on the barley green; But he brayed And that moment he came to ruin. " And even while he was yet speaking the ass died on the spot. 238 THE TALKATIVE TORTOISE The future Buddha was once born in a minister's family, whenBrahma-datta was reigning in Benares; and when he grew up he became theking's adviser in things temporal and spiritual. Now this king was very talkative; while he was speaking others had noopportunity for a word. And the future Buddha, wanting to cure thistalkativeness of his, was constantly seeking for some means of doing so. At that time there was living, in a pond in the Himalaya mountains, atortoise. Two young hamsas, or wild ducks, who came to feed there, madefriends with him, and one day, when they had become very intimate withhim, they said to the tortoise: "Friend tortoise! the place where we live, at the Golden Cave on MountBeautiful in the Himalaya country, is a delightful spot. Will you comethere with us?" "But how can I get there?" "We can take you if you can only hold your tongue, and will say nothingto anybody. " "Oh! that I can do. Take me with you. " "That's right, " said they. And making the tortoise bite hold of a stick, they themselves took the two ends in their teeth, and flew up into theair. Seeing him thus carried by the hamsas, some villagers called out, "Twowild ducks are carrying a tortoise along on a stick!" Whereupon thetortoise wanted to say, "If my friends choose to carry me, what is thatto you, you wretched slaves!" So just as the swift flight of the wildducks had brought him over the king's palace in the city of Benares, helet go of the stick he was biting, and falling in the open courtyard, split in two! And there arose a universal cry, "A tortoise has fallen inthe open courtyard, and has split in two!" The king, taking the future Buddha, went to the place, surrounded by hiscourtiers; and looking at the tortoise, he asked the Bodisat, "Teacher!how comes he to be fallen here?" The future Buddha thought to himself, "Long expecting, wishing toadmonish the king, have I sought for some means of doing so. Thistortoise must have made friends with the wild ducks; and they must havemade him bite hold of the stick, and have flown up into the air to takehim to the hills. But he, being unable to hold his tongue when he hearsany one else talk, must have wanted to say something, and let go thestick; and so must have fallen down from the sky, and thus lost hislife. " And saying, "Truly, O king! those who are calledchatter-boxes--people whose words have no end--come to grief like this, "he uttered these verses: "Verily the tortoise killed himself While uttering his voice; Though he was holding tight the stick, By a word himself he slew. "Behold him then, O excellent by strength! And speak wise words, not out of season. You see how, by his talking overmuch, The tortoise fell into this wretched plight!" The king saw that he was himself referred to, and said, "O Teacher! areyou speaking of us?" And the Bodisat spake openly, and said, "O great king! be it thou, or beit any other, whoever talks beyond measure meets with some mishap likethis. " And the king henceforth refrained himself, and became a man of fewwords. 239 The following is, also, an oriental story. It is taken from the _Hitopadesa_ (Book of Good Counsel), a collection of Sanskrit fables. This collection was compiled from older sources, probably in the main from the _Panchatantra_ (Five Books), which belonged to about the fifth century. Observe the emphasis placed upon the teaching of the fable by putting the statement of it at the beginning and recurring to it at the close. A LION TRICKED BY A RABBIT _He who hath sense hath strength. Where hath he strength who wantethjudgment? See how a lion, when intoxicated with anger, was overcome by arabbit. _ Upon the mountain Mandara there lived a lion, whose name was Durganta(hard to go near), who was very exact in complying with the ordinancefor animal sacrifices. So at length all the different species assembled, and in a body represented that, as by his present mode of proceeding theforest would be cleared all at once, if it pleased his Highness, theywould each of them in his turn provide him an animal for his daily food. And the lion gave his consent accordingly. Thus every beast deliveredhis stipulated provision, till at length, it coming to the rabbit'sturn, he began to meditate in this manner: "Policy should be practicedby him who would save his life; and I myself shall lose mine if I do nottake care. Suppose I lead him after another lion? Who knows how that mayturn out for me? I will approach him slowly, as if fatigued. " The lion by this time began to be very hungry; so, seeing the rabbitcoming toward him, he called out in a great passion, "What is the reasonthou comest so late?" "Please your Highness, " said the rabbit, "as I was coming along I wasforcibly detained by another of your species; but having given him myword that I would return immediately, I came here to represent it toyour Highness. " "Go quickly, " said the lion in a rage, "and show me where this vilewretch may be found!" Accordingly, the rabbit conducted the lion to the brink of a deep well, where being arrived, "There, " said the rabbit, "look down and beholdhim. " At the same time he pointed to the reflected image of the lion inthe water, who, swelling with pride and resentment, leaped into thewell, as he thought, upon his adversary; and thus put an end to hislife. I repeat, therefore: _He who hath sense hath strength. Where hath he strength who wantethjudgment?_ 240 Marie de France lived probably in the latter part of the twelfth century and was one of the most striking figures in Middle English literature. She seems to have been born in France, lived much in England, translated from the Anglo-Norman dialect into French, and is spoken of as the first French poet. One of her three works, and the most extensive, is a collection of 103 fables, which she says she translated from the English of King Alfred. Her original, whatever it may have been, is lost. One of her fables, in a translation by Professor W. W. Skeat, is given below. It contains the germ of Chaucer's "Nun's Priest's Tale, " in _The Canterbury Tales_. THE COCK AND THE FOX MARIE DE FRANCE A Cock our story tells of, who High on a trash hill stood and crew. A Fox, attracted, straight drew nigh, And spake soft words of flattery. "Dear Sir!" said he, "your look's divine; I never saw a bird so fine! I never heard a voice so clear Except your father's--ah! poor dear! His voice rang clearly, loudly--but Most clearly when his eyes were shut!" "The same with me!" the Cock replies, And flaps his wings, and shuts his eyes. Each note rings clearer than the last-- The Fox starts up and holds him fast; Toward the wood he hies apace. But as he crossed an open space, The shepherds spy him; off they fly; The dogs give chase with hue and cry. The Fox still holds the Cock, though fear Suggests his case is growing queer. "Tush!" cries the Cock, "cry out, to grieve 'em, 'The cock is mine! I'll never leave him!'" The Fox attempts, in scorn, to shout, And opes his mouth; the Cock slips out, And in a trice has gained a tree. Too late the Fox begins to see How well the Cock his game has played; For once his tricks have been repaid. In angry language, uncontrolled, He 'gins to curse the mouth that's bold To speak, when it should silent be. "Well, " says the Cock, "the same with me; I curse the eyes that go to sleep Just when they ought sharp watch to keep Lest evil to their lord befall. " Thus fools contrariously do all; They chatter when they should be dumb, And, when they _ought_ to speak, are mum. 241 The following is Wright's translation of the first fable in La Fontaine's collection. Rousseau, objecting to fables in general, singled out this particular one as an example of their bad effects on children, and echoes of his voice are still in evidence. It would, he said, give children a lesson in inhumanity. "You believe you are making an example of the grasshopper, but they will choose the ant . . . They will take the more pleasant part, which is a very natural thing. " Another observer said: "As for me, I love neither grasshopper nor ant, neither avarice nor prodigality, neither the miserly people who lend nor the spendthrifts who borrow. " These statements represent complex, analytic points of view which are probably outside the range of most children. They will see the grasshopper simply as a type of thorough shiftlessness and the ant as a type of forethought, although La Fontaine does suggest that the ant might on general principles be a little less "tight-fisted. " The lesson that idleness is the mother of want, the necessity of looking ahead, of providing for the future, of laying up for a rainy day--these are certainly common-sense conclusions and the only ones the story itself will suggest to the child. THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE ANT LA FONTAINE A grasshopper gay Sang the summer away, And found herself poor By the winter's first roar. Of meat or of bread, Not a morsel she had! So a begging she went, To her neighbor the ant, For the loan of some wheat, Which would serve her to eat, Till the season came round. "I will pay you, " she saith, "On an animal's faith, Double weight in the pound Ere the harvest be bound. " The ant is a friend (And here she might mend) Little given to lend. "How spent you the summer?" Quoth she, looking shame At the borrowing dame. "Night and day to each comer I sang, if you please. " "You sang! I'm at ease; For 'tis plain at a glance, Now, ma'am, you must dance. " 242 The translation of the following fable is that of W. Lucas Collins, in his _La Fontaine and Other French Fabulists_. This fable has always been a great favorite among the French, and the translator has caught much of the sprightly tone of his original. THE COCK, THE CAT, AND THE YOUNG MOUSE LA FONTAINE A pert young Mouse, to whom the world was new, Had once a near escape, if all be true. He told his mother, as I now tell you: "I crossed the mountains that beyond us rise, And, journeying onwards, bore me As one who had a great career before me, When lo! two creatures met my wondering eyes, -- The one of gracious mien, benign and mild; The other fierce and wild, With high-pitched voice that filled me with alarm; A lump of sanguine flesh grew on his head, And with a kind of arm He raised himself in air, As if to hover there; His tail was like a horseman's plume outspread. " (It was a farmyard Cock, you understand, That our young friend described in terms so grand, As 'twere some marvel come from foreign land. ) "With arms raised high He beat his sides, and made such hideous cry, That even I, Brave as I am, thank heaven! had well-nigh fainted: Straightway I took to flight, And cursed him left and right. Ah! but for him, I might have got acquainted With that sweet creature, Who bore attractiveness in every feature: A velvet skin he had, like yours and mine, A tail so long and fine, A sweet, meek countenance, a modest air-- Yet, what an eye was there! I feel that, on the whole, He must have strong affinities of soul With our great race--our ears are shaped the same. I should have made my bow, and asked his name, But at the fearful cry Raised by that monster, I was forced to fly. " "My child, " replied his mother, "you have seen That demure hypocrite we call a Cat: Under that sleek and inoffensive mien He bears a deadly hate of Mouse and Rat. The other, whom you feared, is harmless--quite; Nay, perhaps may serve us for a meal some night. As for your friend, for all his innocent air, We form the staple of his bill of fare. " _Take, while you live, this warning as your guide--_ _Don't judge by the outside. _ 243 John Gay (1685-1732) was an English poet and dramatist. His work as a whole has been pretty well forgotten, but he has been recently brought back to the mind of the public by the revival of his satirical _Beggar's Opera_, the ancestor of the modern comic opera. Gay published a collection of fables in verse in 1727, "prepared for the edification of the young Duke of Cumberland. " A second group, making sixty-six in all, was published after his death. Since these fables are probably the best of their kind in English, a few of them are frequently met with in collections. "The Hare with Many Friends" has been the favorite, and rightly so, as it has something of the humor and point that belong to the real fable. Perhaps the fact that it has a personal application enabled Gay to write with more vigor and sincerity than elsewhere. THE HARE WITH MANY FRIENDS JOHN GAY Friendship, like love, is but a name, Unless to one you stint the flame. The child whom many fathers share, Hath seldom known a father's care. 'Tis thus in friendship; who depend On many rarely find a friend. A Hare, who, in a civil way, Complied with everything, like Gay, Was known by all the bestial train Who haunt the wood, or graze the plain. Her care was, never to offend, And every creature was her friend. As forth she went at early dawn, To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn, Behind she hears the hunter's cries, And from the deep-mouthed thunder flies. She starts, she stops, she pants for breath; She hears the near advance of death; She doubles, to mislead the hound, And measures back her mazy round: Till, fainting in the public way, Half dead with fear she gasping lay. What transport in her bosom grew, When first the Horse appeared in view! "Let me, " says she, "your back ascend, And owe my safety to a friend. You know my feet betray my flight; To friendship every burden's light. " The Horse replied: "Poor honest Puss, It grieves my heart to see thee thus; Be comforted; relief is near, For all your friends are in the rear. " She next the stately Bull implored; And thus replied the mighty lord, "Since every beast alive can tell That I sincerely wish you well, I may, without offence, pretend, To take the freedom of a friend; Love calls me hence; a favorite cow Expects me near yon barley-mow; And when a lady's in the case, You know, all other things give place. To leave you thus might seem unkind; But see, the Goat is just behind. " The Goat remarked her pulse was high, Her languid head, her heavy eye; "My back, " says he, "may do you harm; The Sheep's at hand, and wool is warm. " The Sheep was feeble, and complained His sides a load of wool sustained: Said he was slow, confessed his fears, For hounds eat sheep as well as hares. She now the trotting Calf addressed, To save from death a friend distressed. "Shall I, " says he, "of tender age, In this important care, engage? Older and abler passed you by; How strong are those, how weak am I! Should I presume to bear you hence, Those friends of mine may take offence. Excuse me, then. You know my heart. But dearest friends, alas, must part! How shall we all lament! Adieu! For see, the hounds are just in view. " 244 Tomas de Yriarte (1750-1791) was a Spanish poet of some note, remembered now mainly as the author of _Literary Fables_, the first attempt at literary fable-writing in Spanish. As the name is meant to imply, they concern themselves with the follies and weaknesses of authors. There are about eighty fables in the complete collection, and they are full of ingenuity and cleverness. One of the simplest and best of these is given here in the translation by R. Rockliffe, which first appeared in _Blackwood's Magazine_ in 1839. It laughs at the lucky chance by which even stupidity sometimes "makes a hit" and then stupidly proceeds to pat itself on the back. THE MUSICAL ASS TOMAS YRIARTE The fable which I now present Occurred to me by accident; And whether bad or excellent, Is merely so by accident. A stupid ass one morning went Into a field by accident And cropp'd his food and was content, Until he spied by accident A flute, which some oblivious gent Had left behind by accident; When, sniffing it with eager scent, He breathed on it by accident, And made the hollow instrument Emit a sound by accident. "Hurrah! hurrah!" exclaimed the brute, "How cleverly I play the flute!" _A fool, in spite of nature's bent. _ _May shine for once--by accident. _ 245 Ivan Andreevitch Krylov (1768-1844) was a Russian author whose fame rests almost entirely upon his popular verse fables (200 in number) which have been used extensively as textbooks in Russian schools. They have "joyousness, simplicity, wit, and good humor. " The following specimen is from I. H. Harrison's translation of Krylov's _Original Fables_. It gives a good illustration of the necessity of "teamwork. " THE SWAN, THE PIKE, AND THE CRAB IVAN KRYLOV When partners with each other don't agree, Each project must a failure be, And out of it no profit come, but sheer vexation. A Swan, a Pike, and Crab once took their station In harness, and would drag a loaded cart; But, when the moment came for them to start, They sweat, they strain, and yet the cart stands still; what's lacking? The load must, as it seemed, have been but light; The Swan, though, to the clouds takes flight, The Pike into the water pulls, the Crab keeps backing. Now which of them was right, which wrong, concerns us not; The cart is still upon the selfsame spot. 246 This fable from the Old Testament is one of the very oldest on record in which a story is practically applied to a human problem. The causes of political corruption apparently have not changed much in three thousand years. American citizens gather together at certain times to choose mayors and other officers to rule over them, and when they say to the fruitful olive tree, or fig tree, or vine, "Come thou and reign over us, " he replies, "Should I forsake my productive factory, or mine, or profession, to be mayor?" But when they say to the bramble, "Come thou and reign over us, " he replies, "Put your trust in me, and let those suffer who object to my management of public affairs. " Jotham's lesson of political duty is one greatly needed in the present-day attempt to raise our standard of citizenship. THE BRAMBLE IS MADE KING _Judges ix: 6-16_ And all the men of Shechem gathered together, and all the house ofMillo, and went, and made Abimelech king, by the plain of the pillarthat was in Shechem. And when they told it to Jotham, he went and stoodin the top of Mount Gerizim, and lifted up his voice, and cried, andsaid unto them:-- "Hearken unto me, ye men of Shechem, that God may hearken unto you. Thetrees went forth on a time to anoint a king over them; and they saidunto the olive tree, 'Reign thou over us. ' But the olive tree said untothem, 'Should I leave my fatness, wherewith by me they honor God andman, and go to be promoted over the trees?' "And the trees said to the fig tree, 'Come thou and reign over us. ' Butthe fig tree said unto them, 'Should I forsake my sweetness and my goodfruit, and go to be promoted over the trees?' "Then said the trees unto the vine, 'Come thou and reign over us. ' Andthe vine said unto them, 'Should I leave my wine, which cheereth God andman, and go to be promoted over the trees?' "Then said all the trees unto the bramble, 'Come thou and reign overus. ' And the bramble said unto the trees, 'If in truth ye anoint meking over you, then come and put your trust in my shadow: and if not, let fire come out of the bramble and devour the cedars of Lebanon. '" 247 The concrete illustrations by means of which Jesus constantly taught are called parables. "Without a parable spake he not unto them. " The parable differs from the fable proper in dealing with more fundamental or ideal truth. The fable moves on the plane of the prudential virtues, the parable on the plane of the higher self-forgetting virtues. Because of that difference there is in the parable "no jesting nor raillery at the weakness, the follies, or the crimes of men. " All is deeply earnest, befitting its high spiritual point of view. As a rule the parables use for illustration stories of what might actually happen. Two of the most familiar of the parables follow. What true neighborliness means is the message of "The Good Samaritan. " THE GOOD SAMARITAN _Luke x:25-37_ And behold, a certain lawyer stood up and tempted him, saying, "Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?" He said unto him, "What iswritten in the law? how readest thou?" And he answering said, "Thoushalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind; and thy neighbor asthyself. " And He said unto him, "Thou hast answered right; this do, andthou shalt live. " But he, willing to justify himself, said unto Jesus, "And who is my neighbor?" And Jesus answering said, "A certain man went down from Jerusalem toJericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, andwounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead. And by chance therecame down a certain priest that way; and when he saw him, he passed byon the other side. And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, cameand looked on him, and passed by on the other side. But a certainSamaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was; and when he saw him, hehad compassion on him, and went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouringin oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to aninn, and took care of him. And on the morrow, when he departed, he tookout two pence and gave them to the host and said unto him, 'Take care ofhim: and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again I will repaythee. ' "Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbor unto him thatfell among the thieves?" And he said, "He that showed mercy on him. " Then said Jesus unto him, "Go and do thou likewise. " 248 THE PRODIGAL SON _Luke xv:10-32_ "Likewise I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the angels ofGod over one sinner that repenteth. " And he said, "A certain man had two sons; and the younger of them saidto his father, 'Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth tome. ' And he divided unto them his living. "And not many days after, the younger son gathered all together, andtook his journey into a far country, and there wasted his substance withriotous living. And when he had spent all, there arose a mighty faminein that land; and he began to be in want. And he went and joinedhimself to a citizen of that country; and he sent him into his fields tofeed swine. And he would fain have filled his belly with the husks thatthe swine did eat; and no man gave unto him. "And when he came to himself, he said, 'How many hired servants of myfather's have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger! Iwill arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, "Father, I havesinned against heaven and before thee, and am no more worthy to becalled thy son; make me as one of thy hired servants. "' "And he arose and came to his father. But when he was yet a great wayoff, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on hisneck, and kissed him. And the son said unto him, 'Father, I have sinnedagainst heaven and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thyson. ' But the father said to his servants, 'Bring forth the best robeand put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet;and bring hither the fatted calf and kill it; and let us eat and bemerry; for this my son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and isfound. ' And they began to be merry. "Now his elder son was in the field; and as he came and drew nigh to thehouse, he heard music and dancing. And he called one of the servants andasked what these things meant. And he said unto him, 'Thy brother iscome; and thy father hath killed the fatted calf, because he hathreceived him safe and sound. ' And he was angry and would not go in;therefore came his father out and entreated him. And he answering, saidto his father, 'Lo, these many years do I serve thee, neithertransgressed I at any time thy commandment; and yet thou never gavest mea kid that I might make merry with my friends. But as soon as this thyson was come, which hath devoured thy living with harlots, thou hastkilled for him the fatted calf. ' And he said unto him, 'Son, thou artever with me; and all that I have is thine. It was meet that we shouldmake merry, and be glad; for this thy brother was dead, and is aliveagain; and was lost, and is found. '" 249 This little apologue is taken from _Norwood_ (1867), a novel written by Henry Ward Beecher for the New York _Ledger_ in the days when that periodical, under the direction of Robert Bonner, was the great family weekly of America. In the course of the fiction Mr. Beecher emphasizes the value of stories for children. "Story-hunger in children, " he says, "is even more urgent than bread-hunger. " And after the story has been told: "How charming it is to narrate fables for children. . . . Children are unconscious philosophers. They refuse to pull to pieces their enjoyments to see what they are made of. Rose knew as well as her father that leaves never talked. Yet, Rose never saw a leaf without feeling that there was life and meaning in it. " THE ANXIOUS LEAF HENRY WARD BEECHER Once upon a time a little leaf was heard to sigh and cry, as leavesoften do when a gentle wind is about. And the twig said, "What is the matter, little leaf?" And the leaf said, "The wind just told me that one day it would pull meoff and throw me down to die on the ground!" The twig told it to the branch on which it grew, and the branch told itto the tree. And when the tree heard it, it rustled all over, and sentback word to the leaf, "Do not be afraid; hold on tightly, and you shallnot go till you want to. " And so the leaf stopped sighing, but went onnestling and singing. Every time the tree shook itself and stirred up all its leaves, thebranches shook themselves, and the little twig shook itself, and thelittle leaf danced up and down merrily, as if nothing could ever pull itoff. And so it grew all summer long till October. And when the bright days ofautumn came, the little leaf saw all the leaves around becoming verybeautiful. Some were yellow, and some scarlet, and some striped withboth colors. Then it asked the tree what it meant. And the tree said, "All theseleaves are getting ready to fly away, and they have put on thesebeautiful colors, because of joy. " Then the little leaf began to want to go, and grew very beautiful inthinking of it, and when it was very gay in color, it saw that thebranches of the tree had no color in them, and so the leaf said, "Oh, branches! why are you lead color and we golden?" "We must keep on our work clothes, for our life is not done; but yourclothes are for holiday, because your tasks are over. " Just then, a little puff of wind came, and the leaf let go withoutthinking of it, and the wind took it up, and turned it over and over, and whirled it like a spark of fire in the air and then it fell gentlydown under the edge of the fence among hundreds of leaves, and fell intoa dream and never waked up to tell what it dreamed about! 250 Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790), more than any other American, has emphasized for us the value of proverbial sayings and the significance of the symbolic story. This account of how one may pay too much for a whistle was written in 1779 while Franklin was representing the colonies at Paris, and addressed to his friend Madame Brillon. The making of apologues seemed to be a favorite sort of game in the circle in which Franklin moved, and his plain common sense is always uppermost in whatever he produces. The lesson of the whistle is always needed; we are prone to put aside the essential thing for the temporary and showy. More than a century ago Noah Webster put this story in his school-reader, and most school-readers since have contained it. The selection is here reprinted complete. Teachers usually omit some of the opening and closing paragraphs. THE WHISTLE BENJAMIN FRANKLIN I am charmed with your description of Paradise, and with your plan ofliving there; and I approve much of your conclusion, that, in the meantime, we should draw all the good we can from this world. In my opinion, we might all draw more good than we do, and suffer less evil, if wewould take care not to give too much for _whistles_. For to me it seemsthat most of the unhappy people we meet with are become so by neglect ofthat caution. You ask what I mean? You love stories, and will excuse my telling one ofmyself. When I was a child of seven years old, my friends, on a holiday, filledmy pockets with coppers. I went directly to a shop where they sold toysfor children; and being charmed with the sound of a _whistle_, that Imet by the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered andgave all my money for one. I then came home, and went whistling all overthe house, much pleased with my _whistle_, but disturbing all thefamily. My brothers, and sisters, and cousins, understanding the bargainI had made, told me I had given four times as much for it as it wasworth; put me in mind what good things I might have bought with the restof the money; and laughed at me so much for my folly, that I cried withvexation; and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the _whistle_gave me pleasure. This, however, was afterward of use to me, the impression continuing onmy mind; so that often, when I was tempted to buy some unnecessarything, I said to myself, _Don't give too much for the whistle_; and Isaved my money. As I grew up I thought I met with many, very many, who _gave too muchfor the whistle_. When I saw one too ambitious of court favor, sacrificing his time, hisrepose, his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends, to attain it, I have said to myself, _This man gives too much for his whistle. _ When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly employing himself inpolitical bustles, neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them by thatneglect, _He pays, indeed_, said I, _too much for his whistle. _ If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all thepleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, for the sake of accumulatingwealth, _Poor man_, said I, _you pay too much for your whistle. _ When I met with a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudableimprovement of the mind, or of his fortune, to mere corporal sensations, and ruining his health in their pursuit, _Mistaken man_, said I, _youare providing pain for yourself, instead of pleasure; you give too muchfor your whistle. _ If I see one fond of appearance, or fine clothes, fine houses, finefurniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he contractsdebts, and ends his career in a prison, _Alas!_ say I, _he has paiddear, very dear, for his whistle. _ When I see a beautiful, sweet-tempered girl married to an ill-naturedbrute of a husband, _What a pity_, say I, _that she should pay so muchfor a whistle!_ In short, I conceive that great part of the miseries of mankind arebrought upon them by the false estimates they have made of the value ofthings, and by their _giving too much for their whistles_. Yet I ought to have charity for these unhappy people, when I considerthat, with all this wisdom of which I am boasting, there are certainthings in the world so tempting, for example, the apples of King John, which happily are not to be bought; for if they were put to sale byauction, I might very easily be led to ruin myself in the purchase, andfind that I had once more given too much for the _whistle_. 251 "The Ephemera" was also addressed to Madame Brillon, the "amiable Brillante" of the final sentence. It is an allegorical story emphasizing the relative shortness of human life. Franklin's "Alas! art is long and life is short!" anticipates Longfellow's "Art is long and time is fleeting. " But hundreds of writers had preceded both of them in calling attention to this at the same time commonplace and significant fact. At the end, Franklin's quiet acceptance of the rather gloomy outlook suggested by the ephemeral nature of life is noteworthy, and is characteristic of his general temper. THE EPHEMERA _An Emblem of Human Life_ BENJAMIN FRANKLIN You may remember, my dear friend, that when we lately spent that happyday in the delightful garden and sweet society of the Moulin Joly, Istopped a little in one of our walks, and stayed some time behind thecompany. We had been shown numberless skeletons of a kind of little fly, called an ephemera, whose successive generations, we were told, werebred and expired within the day. I happened to see a living company ofthem on a leaf, who appeared to be engaged in conversation. You know Iunderstand all the inferior animal tongues. My too great application tothe study of them is the best excuse I can give for the little progressI have made in your charming language. I listened through curiosity tothe discourse of these little creatures; but as they, in their nationalvivacity, spoke three or four together, I could make but little of theirconversation. I found, however, by some broken expressions that I heardnow and then, they were disputing warmly on the merit of two foreignmusicians, one a _cousin_, the other a _moscheto_; in which dispute theyspent their time, seemingly as regardless of the shortness of life as ifthey had been sure of living a month. Happy people! thought I; you livecertainly under a wise, just, and mild government, since you have nopublic grievances to complain of, nor any subject of contention but theperfections and imperfections of foreign music. I turned my head fromthem to an old grey-headed one, who was single on another leaf, andtalking to himself. Being amused with his soliloquy, I put it down inwriting, in hopes it will likewise amuse her to whom I am so muchindebted for the most pleasing of all amusements, her delicious companyand heavenly harmony. "It was, " said he, "the opinion of learnèd philosophers of our race, wholived and flourished long before my time, that this vast world, theMoulin Joly, could not itself subsist more than eighteen hours; and Ithink there was some foundation for that opinion, since, by the apparentmotion of the great luminary that gives life to all nature, and which inmy time has evidently declined considerably towards the ocean at the endof our earth, it must then finish its course, be extinguished in thewaters that surround us, and leave the world in cold and darkness, necessarily producing universal death and destruction. I have livedseven of those hours, a great age, being no less than four hundred andtwenty minutes of time. How very few of us continue so long! I have seengenerations born, flourish, and expire. My present friends are thechildren and grandchildren of the friends of my youth, who are now, also, no more! And I must soon follow them; for, by the course ofnature, though still in health, I cannot expect to live above seven oreight minutes longer. What now avails all my toil and labor in amassinghoney-dew on this leaf, which I cannot live to enjoy! What the politicalstruggles I have been engaged in, for the good of my compatriotinhabitants of this bush, or my philosophical studies for the benefit ofour race in general! for, in politics, what can laws do without morals?Our present race of ephemerae will in a course of minutes becomecorrupt, like those of other and older bushes, and consequently aswretched. And in philosophy how small is our progress! Alas! art islong, and life is short! My friends would comfort me with the idea of aname, they say, I shall leave behind me; and they tell me I have livedlong enough to nature and to glory. But what will fame be to an ephemerawho no longer exists? And what will become of all history in theeighteenth hour, when the world itself, even the whole Moulin Joly, shall come to its end, and be buried in universal ruin?" To me, after all my eager pursuits, no solid pleasures now remain, butthe reflection of a long life spent in meaning well, the sensibleconversation of a few good lady ephemerae, and now and then a kind smileand a tune from the ever amiable _Brillante_. 252 The brief allegory that follows is very generally regarded as the finest and noblest specimen of its type. It is here reprinted approximately in the form of its first appearance, now more than two hundred years ago, as more in keeping with its spirit than a modern dress would be. The world of recent times is not so much given to this kind of writing as the eighteenth century was. Like Franklin's "Ephemera, " Addison's vision grows out of "profound contemplation on the vanity of human life. " The key to the symbolism is found in the "threescore and ten arches" of the bridge, representing the scriptural limit of physical existence, with some broken arches for any excess of that limit. The fact that "the bridge consisted at first of a thousand arches" is a reference to the great number of years assigned to some of the patriarchs. The splendid concluding vision in which Mirzah sees the compensations for the ills of this life suggests a very different type of mind from that of the "this-worldly" closing paragraph in Franklin's apologue. "The Vision of Mirzah" is No. 159 of the _Spectator_ (September 1, 1711). THE VISION OF MIRZAH JOSEPH ADDISON When I was at Grand Cairo I picked up several oriental manuscripts, which I have still by me. Among others I met with one entitled TheVisions of Mirzah, which I have read over with great pleasure. I intendto give it to the public when I have no other entertainment for them;and I shall begin with the first vision, which I have translated wordfor word as follows: On the fifth day of the moon, which according to the custom of myforefathers I always kept holy, after having washed myself, and offeredup my morning devotions, I ascended the high hills of Bagdat, in orderto pass the rest of the day in meditation and prayer. As I was hereairing myself on the tops of the mountains, I fell into profoundcontemplation on the vanity of human life; and passing from one thoughtto another, surely, said I, man is but a shadow and life a dream. WhilstI was thus musing, I cast my eyes towards the summit of a rock that wasnot far from me, where I discovered one in the habit of a shepherd, witha musical instrument in his hand. As I looked upon him he applied it tohis lips, and began to play upon it. The sound of it was exceedingsweet, and wrought into a variety of tunes that were inexpressiblymelodious, and altogether different from anything I had ever heard. Theyput me in mind of those heavenly airs that are played to the departedsouls of good men upon their first arrival in paradise to wear out theimpressions of their last agonies, and qualify them for the pleasures ofthat happy place. My heart melted away in secret raptures. I had been often told that the rock before me was the haunt of a genius;and that several had been entertained with music who had passed by it, but never heard that the musician had before made himself visible. Whenhe had raised my thoughts by those transporting airs which he played, totaste the pleasure of his conversation, as I looked upon him like oneastonished, he beckoned to me, and by the waving of his hand directed meto approach the place where he sat. I drew near with that reverencewhich is due to a superior nature: and as my heart was entirely subduedby the captivating strains I had heard, I fell down at his feet andwept. The genius smiled upon me with a look of compassion and affabilitythat familiarized him to my imagination, and at once dispelled all thefears and apprehensions with which I approached him. He lifted me fromthe ground, and taking me by the hand, Mirzah, said he, I have heardthee in thy soliloquies: follow me. He then led me to the highest pinnacle of the rock, and placed me on thetop of it. Cast thy eyes eastward, said he, and tell me what thou seest. I see, said I, a huge valley and a prodigious tide of water rollingthrough it. The valley that thou seest, said he, is the vale of misery, and the tide of water that thou seest is part of the great tide ofeternity. What is the reason, said I, that the tide I see rises out of athick mist at one end, and again loses itself in a thick mist at theother? What thou seest, says he, is that portion of eternity which iscalled time, measured out by the sun, and reaching from the beginning ofthe world to its consummation. Examine now, said he, this sea that isthus bounded with darkness at both ends, and tell me what thoudiscoverest in it. I see a bridge, said I, standing in the midst of thetide. The bridge thou seest, said he, is human life; consider itattentively. Upon a more leisurely survey of it, I found that itconsisted of threescore and ten entire arches, with several brokenarches, which added to those that were entire, made up the number aboutan hundred. As I was counting the arches the genius told me that thebridge consisted at first of a thousand arches; but that a great floodswept away the rest, and left the bridge in the ruinous condition I nowbeheld it. But tell me further, said he, what thou discoverest on it. Isee multitudes of people passing over it, said I, and a black cloudhanging on each end of it. As I looked more attentively, I saw severalof the passengers dropping through the bridge, into the great tide thatflowed underneath it; and upon further examination, perceived there wereinnumerable trap-doors that lay concealed in the bridge which thepassengers no sooner trod upon, but they fell through them into the tideand immediately disappeared. These hidden pit-falls were set very thickat the entrance of the bridge, so that the throngs of people no soonerbroke through the cloud, but many of them fell into them. They grewthinner towards the middle, but multiplied and lay closer togethertowards the end of the arches that were entire. There were indeed some persons, but their number was very small, thatcontinued a kind of hobbling march on the broken arches, but fellthrough one after another, being quite tired and spent with so long awalk. I passed some time in the contemplation of this wonderful structure, andthe great variety of objects which it presented. My heart was filledwith a deep melancholy to see several dropping unexpectedly in the midstof mirth and jollity, and catching at everything that stood by them tosave themselves. Some were looking up towards the heavens in athoughtful posture, and in the midst of a speculation stumbled and fellout of sight. Multitudes were very busy in the pursuit of baubles thatglittered in their eyes and danced before them, but often when theythought themselves within the reach of them, their footing failed anddown they sank. In this confusion of objects, I observed some withscimetars in their hands, who ran to and fro upon the bridge, thrustingseveral persons upon trap-doors which did not seem to lie in their way, and which they might have escaped, had they not been thus forced uponthem. The genius seeing me indulge myself in this melancholy prospect, told meI had dwelt long enough upon it: take thine eyes off the bridge, saidhe, and tell me if thou seest anything thou dost not comprehend. Uponlooking up, what mean, said I, those great flights of birds that areperpetually hovering about the bridge, and settling upon it from time totime? I see vultures, harpies, ravens, cormorants, and among many otherfeathered creatures several little wingèd boys, that perch in greatnumbers upon the middle arches. These, said the genius, are envy, avarice, superstition, despair, love, with the like cares and passionsthat infect human life. I here fetched a deep sigh; alas, said I, man was made in vain! How ishe given away to misery and mortality! tortured in life, and swallowedup in death! The genius, being moved with compassion towards me, bid mequit so uncomfortable a prospect. Look no more, said he, on a man in thefirst stage of his existence, in his setting out for eternity; but castthine eye on that thick mist into which the tide bears the severalgenerations of mortals that fall into it. I directed my sight as wasordered, and (whether or no the good genius strengthened it with anysupernatural force, or dissipated part of the mist that was before toothick for the eye to penetrate) I saw the valley opening at the fartherend, and spreading forth into an immense ocean that had a huge rock ofadamant running through the midst of it, and dividing it into two equalparts. The clouds still rested on one-half of it, insomuch that I coulddiscover nothing in it; but the other appeared to me a vast oceanplanted with innumerable islands, that were covered with fruits andflowers, and interwoven with a thousand little shining seas that ranamong them. I could see persons dressed in glorious habits with garlandsupon their heads, passing among the trees, lying down by the sides ofthe fountains, or resting on beds of flowers; and could hear a confusedharmony of singing birds, falling waters, human voices, and musicalinstruments. Gladness grew in me upon the discovery of so delightful ascene. I wished for the wings of an eagle, that I might fly away tothose happy seats; but the genius told me there was no passage to themexcept through the gates of death that I saw opening every moment uponthe bridge. The islands, said he, that lie so fresh and green beforethee, and with which the whole face of the ocean appears spotted as faras thou canst see, are more in number than the sands of the sea-shore;there are myriads of islands behind those which thou here discoverest, reaching farther than thy eyes, or even than thine imagination, canextend itself. These are the mansions of good men after death, who, according to the degree and kinds of virtue in which they excelled, aredistributed among these several islands, which abound with pleasures ofdifferent kinds and degrees, suitable to the relishes and perfections ofthose who are settled in them; every island is a paradise, accommodatedto its respective inhabitants. Are not these, O Mirzah, habitationsworth contending for? Does life appear miserable that gives theopportunities of earning such a reward? Is death to be feared that willconvey thee to so happy an existence? Think not a man was made in vainwho has such an eternity reserved for him. I gazed with inexpressiblepleasure on these happy islands. At length, said I, Show me now, Ibeseech thee, the secrets that lie hid under those dark clouds whichcover the ocean on the other side of the rock of adamant. The geniusmaking me no answer, I turned about to address myself to him a secondtime, but I found that he had left me. I then turned again to the visionwhich I had been so long contemplating, but, instead of the rollingtide, the arched bridge, and the happy islands, I saw nothing but thelong hollow valley of Bagdat, with oxen, sheep, and camels grazing uponthe sides of it. 253 "The Discontented Pendulum" was one of seventy-nine brief prose selections by Jane Taylor (1783-1824) which appeared first in a paper for young people and were, after the author's death, gathered together and published as _Contributions of Q. Q. _ (1826). This one selection only from that volume still lives, is reprinted often in school-readers, and by virtue of its cleverness and point deserves its happy fate. The author attached to it a "Moral" almost as long as the story itself, and that has long since fallen by the wayside. Perhaps that is because the story is too clear to need the "Moral. " Here are a few sentences from it: "The _present_ is all we have to manage: the past is irrecoverable; the future is uncertain; nor is it fair to burden one moment with the weight of the next. Sufficient unto the _moment_ is the trouble thereof. . . . One moment comes laden with its own _little_ burden, then flies, and is succeeded by another no heavier than the last; if _one_ could be sustained, so can another, and another. . . . Let any one resolve to do right _now_, leaving _then_ to do as it can, and if he were to live to the age of Methuselah, he would never err. . . . Let us then, 'whatever our hands find to do, do it with all our might, recollecting that _now_ is the proper and the accepted time. '" THE DISCONTENTED PENDULUM JANE TAYLOR An old clock that had stood for fifty years in a farmer's kitchenwithout giving its owner any cause of complaint, early one summer'smorning, before the family was stirring, suddenly stopped. Upon this, the dial-plate (if we may credit the fable) changedcountenance with alarm: the hands made an ineffectual effort to continuetheir course; the wheels remained motionless with surprise; the weightshung speechless; each member felt disposed to lay the blame on theothers. At length the dial instituted a formal inquiry as to the causeof the stagnation; when hands, wheels, weights, with one voice, protested their innocence. But now a faint tick was heard below, fromthe pendulum, who thus spoke: "I confess myself to be the sole cause of the present stoppage; and amwilling, for the general satisfaction, to assign my reasons. The truthis that I am tired of ticking. " Upon hearing this, the old clock becameso enraged that it was on the point of _striking_. "Lazy wire!" exclaimed the dial-plate, holding up its hands. "Very good!" replied the pendulum, "it is vastly easy for you, MistressDial, who have always, as everybody knows, set yourself up above me--itis vastly easy for you, I say, to accuse other people of laziness! You, who have had nothing to do all the days of your life but to stare peoplein the face, and to amuse yourself with watching all that goes on in thekitchen! Think, I beseech you, how you would like to be shut up for lifein this dark closet, and wag backwards and forwards, year after year, asI do. " "As to that, " said the dial, "is there not a window in your house onpurpose for you to look through?" "For all that, " resumed the pendulum, "it is very dark here; andalthough there is a window, I dare not stop, even for an instant, tolook out. Besides, I am really weary of my way of life; and if youplease, I'll tell you how I took this disgust at my employment. Thismorning I happened to be calculating how many times I should have totick in the course only of the next twenty-four hours: perhaps some ofyou, above there, can give me the exact sum. " The minute hand, being _quick at figures_, instantly replied, "Eighty-six thousand four hundred times. " "Exactly so, " replied the pendulum: "well, I appeal to you all, if thethought of this was not enough to fatigue one? And when I began tomultiply the stroke of one day by those of months and years, really itis no wonder if I felt discouraged at the prospect; so after a greatdeal of reasoning and hesitation, thinks I to myself--I'll stop. " The dial could scarcely keep its countenance during this harangue; but, resuming its gravity, thus replied: "Dear Mr. Pendulum, I am really astonished that such a useful, industrious person as yourself should have been overcome by this suddensuggestion. It is true you have done a great deal of work in your time. So we have all, and are likely to do; and although this may fatigue usto _think_ of, the question is, whether it it will fatigue us to _do_:would you now do me the favor to give about half a dozen strokes toillustrate my argument?" The pendulum complied, and ticked six times at its usual pace. "Now, "resumed the dial, "may I be allowed to inquire if that exertion was atall fatiguing or disagreeable to you?" "Not in the least, " replied the pendulum;--"It is not of six strokesthat I complain, nor of sixty, but of _millions_. " "Very good, " replied the dial, "but recollect that although you may_think_ of a million strokes in an instant, you are required to_execute_ but one; and that however often you may hereafter have toswing, a moment will always be given you to swing in. " "That consideration staggers me, I confess, " said the pendulum. "Then I hope, " resumed the dial-plate, "we shall all immediately returnto our duty; for the maids will lie in bed till noon if we stand idlingthus. " Upon this, the weights, who had never been accused of _light_ conduct, used all their influence in urging him to proceed; when, as with oneconsent, the wheels began to turn, the hands began to move, the pendulumbegan to wag, and, to its credit, ticked as loud as ever; while a beamof the rising sun that streamed through a hole in the kitchen shutter, shining full upon the dial-plate, it brightened up as if nothing hadbeen the matter. When the farmer came down to breakfast that morning, upon looking at theclock he declared that his watch had gained half an hour in the night. 254 Count Leo Tolstoy (1828-1910) was a Russian novelist, poet, and social reformer; author, among other important works, of _War and Peace_ and _Anna Karenina_. He wrote many short stories and sketches, a number of which are markedly symbolic in character. The one that follows is a good illustration of a type of such tales pleasing to modern minds. We no longer produce the formal fable or allegory. In Tolstoy's story are two historical characters of so pronounced individuality that their names always suggest definite ideas--Croesus, riches and worldly greatness; Solon, wisdom and worldly poverty and lowliness. These ideas are brought into conflict, and the outcome allows us to see which is the basic one in Tolstoy's theory of life. Who is the happy warrior? One would merely have to quote some words from the story to have an answer. And if the reader feels the force of the answer, as Tolstoy evidently hoped he would, it means a new or at least a more distinctly held ideal of living. CROESUS AND SOLON LEO TOLSTOY In olden times--long, long before the coming of Christ--there reignedover a certain country a great king called Croesus. He had much gold andsilver, and many precious stones, as well as numberless soldiers andslaves. Indeed, he thought that in all the world there could be nohappier man than himself. But one day there chanced to visit the country which Croesus ruled aGreek philosopher named Solon. Far and wide was Solon famed as a wiseman and a just; and, inasmuch as his fame had reached Croesus also, theking commanded that he should be conducted to his presence. Seated upon his throne, and robed in his most gorgeous apparel, Croesusasked of Solon: "Have you ever seen aught more splendid than this?" "Of a surety have I, " replied Solon. "Peacocks, cocks, and pheasantsglitter with colors so diverse and so brilliant that no art can comparewith them. " Croesus was silent as he thought to himself: "Since this is not enough, I must show him something more, to surprise him. " So he exhibited the whole of his riches before Solon's eyes, as well asboasted of the number of foes he had slain, and the number ofterritories he had conquered. Then he said to the philosopher: "You have lived long in the world, and have visited many countries. Tellme whom you consider to be the happiest man living?" "The happiest man living I consider to be a certain poor man who livesin Athens, " replied Solon. The king was surprised at this answer, for he had made certain thatSolon would name him himself; yet, for all that, the philosopher hadnamed a perfectly obscure individual! "Why do you say that?" asked Croesus. "Because, " replied Solon, "the man of whom I speak has worked hard allhis life, has been content with little, has reared fine children, hasserved his city honorably, and has achieved a noble reputation. " When Croesus heard this he exclaimed: "And do you reckon my happiness as nothing, and consider that I am notfit to be compared with the man of whom you speak?" To this Solon replied: "Often it befalls that a poor man is happier than a rich man. Call noman happy until he is dead. " The king dismissed Solon, for he was not pleased at his words, and hadno belief in him. "A fig for melancholy!" he thought. "While a man lives he should livefor pleasure. " So he forgot about Solon entirely. Not long afterwards the king's son went hunting, but wounded himself bya mischance, and died of the wound. Next, it was told to Croesus thatthe powerful Emperor Cyrus was coming to make war upon him. So Croesus went out against Cyrus with a great army, but the enemyproved the stronger, and, having won the battle and shattered Croesus'forces, penetrated to the capital. Then the foreign soldiers began to pillage all King Croesus' riches, andto slay the inhabitants, and to sack and fire the city. One soldierseized Croesus himself, and was just about to stab him, when the king'sson darted forward to defend his father, and cried aloud: "Do not touch him! That is Croesus, the king!" So the soldiers bound Croesus, and carried him away to the Emperor; butCyrus was celebrating his victory at a banquet, and could not speak withthe captive, so orders were sent out for Croesus to be executed. In the middle of the city square the soldiers built a greatburning-pile, and upon the top of it they placed King Croesus, bound himto a stake, and set fire to the pile. Croesus gazed around him, upon his city and upon his palace. Then heremembered the words of the Greek philosopher, and, bursting into tears, could only say: "Ah, Solon, Solon!" The soldiers were closing in about the pile when the Emperor Cyrusarrived in person to view the execution. As he did so he caught thesewords uttered by Croesus, but could not understand them. So he commanded Croesus to be taken from the pile, and inquired of himwhat he had just said. Croesus answered: "I was but naming the name of a wise man--of one who told me a greattruth--a truth that is of greater worth than all earthly riches, thanall our kingly glory. " And Croesus related to Cyrus his conversation with Solon. The storytouched the heart of the Emperor, for he bethought him that he too wasbut a man, that he too knew not what Fate might have in store for him. So in the end he had mercy upon Croesus, and became his friend. SECTION VI MYTHS BIBLIOGRAPHY I. GENERAL HANDBOOKS Bulfinch, Thomas, _Mythology: The Age of Fable_. Gayley, Charles Mills, _Classic Myths in English Literature and in Art_. II. GREEK AND ROMAN Baker, Emilie Kip, _Stories of Old Greece and Rome_. Baldwin, James, _Old Greek Stories_. Francillon, R. E. , _Gods and Heroes, or the Kingdom of Jupiter_. Guerber, H. A. , _Myths of Greece and Rome_. Hawthorne, Nathaniel, _A Wonder-Book for Boys and Girls_. Hawthorne, Nathaniel, _Tanglewood Tales: A Second Wonder-Book_. Kingsley, Charles, _Greek Heroes_. Kupfer, Grace H. , _Stories of Long Ago_. Peabody, Josephine P. , _Old Greek Folk Stories_. III. NORTHERN MYTHS Anderson, R. B. , _Norse Mythology, or The Religion of Our Forefathers_. Baker, Emilie Kip, _Stories of Northern Myths_. Boult, Katherine F. , _Heroes of the Northland_. Brown, Abbie Farwell, _In the Days of the Giants_. Colum, Padraic, _The Children of Odin_. Guerber, H. A. , _Myths of Northern Lands_. Keary, Anna and Eliza, _The Heroes of Asgard_. Mabie, Hamilton Wright, _Norse Stories_. Wilmot-Buxton, E. M. , _Stories of Norse Heroes_. IV. NATURE MYTHS ("POURQUOI" STORIES) Cook, Flora J. , _Nature Myths_. Holbrook, Florence, _The Book of Nature Myths_. V. CRITICAL WORKS Cox, Sir G. W. , _Mythology of the Aryan Nations_. 2 vols. Fiske, John, _Myths and Myth-Makers_. Frazer, J. G. , _The Golden Bough_. 12 vols. Hartland, E. S. , _The Legend of Perseus_. 3 vols. Lang, Andrew, _Myth, Ritual, and Religion_. 2 vols. Müller, Max, _Contributions to the Science of Mythology_. Ruskin, John, _Athena, Queen of the Air_. Spencer, Herbert, _Principles of Sociology_. Tylor, E. B. , _Primitive Culture_. 2 vols. SECTION VI. MYTHS INTRODUCTORY _What myths are. _ It seems that every race of people in the period ofbarbarism and early civilization has created fanciful, childlike storiesto explain such things as the origin of earth, sun, stars, clouds, life, death, fire, man, lower animals, and plants, and the characteristics ofparticular plants and animals. In most cases, if not all, they haveaccounted for the origin of such things by the theory that they werecreated by gods and super-human heroes. Among such peoples as the Greekand Norse folk, many stories also grew up regarding the gods andsuper-human heroes and their relations with one another and with men. All of these old stories about the creation of things and about the godsand super-human heroes are called myths. As time went on and the peoplesbecame civilized, the original myths were regarded merely as fancifultales, and were used to furnish characters and plots for many storiestold chiefly for entertainment. Often, as in the story of Ulysses, legends of national heroes were combined with them. Even in our timesuch writers as Hawthorne and Kingsley and Lowell have used these oldcharacters and plots as the basis of stories, many of which differgreatly from the original myths. _Myths and other folk stories. _ Myths were pretty largely matters offaith to begin with. They were the basis of old-time religious beliefs, explaining to the mind of primitive man how things came to be as theyare. This tendency to adopt what are to educated minds fancifulexplanations of all that is beyond their understanding is easilyobservable in the way children explain the unknown. It seems fairlyclear, on the other hand, that fairy stories were told by the folk asmatter of entertainment. They did not believe that pigs actually talked, that a princess could sleep a hundred years, that a bean-stalk couldgrow as fast and as far as Jack's did, or that toads and diamonds couldactually come out of one's mouth. It may be, as some theorists insist, that remains of myth survive in some of these fairy stories. On thewhole, however, the folk believed these tales only in the sense in whichwe believe in a fine story such as "The Vision of Sir Launfal" or "EnochArden. " They express the pleasing imaginings and longings of the humanspirit, its ideals of character and conduct, its sense of the wonder andmystery of the universe. The fairy tale, in general, is nearer thesurface of life; the myth was concerned with the most fundamentalproblems of the _whence_ and the _why_ of things. Such distinctions, however, belong to the realm of scientificscholarship. The teacher is concerned with myths simply as splendidstories that have come down to us from a time when human beings seemedto feel themselves bound into a unity with nature and all mysteriouspowers around them; stories that through constant repetition wererounded and perfected, and finally, through use by the poets, havereached us in a fairly systematic form. The so-called "poetic mythology"is the one of special value for our purposes. It comes to us throughOvid in the South, and does not distinguish between the gods of Greeceand Rome. It comes through the Eddas of the North. It is this poeticmythology that furnishes the basis of allusion in literature and in art, and which is retold for us in the various versions for modern readers. If we hold fast to this correct idea that as teachers in elementaryschools our interest in myths is exactly like our interest in other folkproducts, an interest in them as stories tested by the ages, an interestin them as presenting familiar and suggestive types of character andconduct, an interest in them as stimulating our sense of wonder andmystery, we shall not be disturbed by the violent discussions thatsometimes rage over the advisability of using myths with children. _Values of myth. _ To make the above proposition as clear as possible, let us first tabulate briefly the values of myth, borrowing a suggestionfrom Jeremiah Curtin: 1. A wonderful story told in most effective fashion. To realize this value, one needs to recall only the efforts of Prometheus in bringing down fire for man and his heroic endurance of vengeful tyranny as a result. The work of Hercules in slaying the many-headed serpent or in cleansing the Augean stables, the adventures of Theseus culminating in the labyrinth of the horrible Minotaur, the beautiful hospitality of Baucis and Philemon, the equally beautiful sadness of the death of Balder--all these simply hint the riches of the myth as story. This story interest is the one that appeals to all human beings as human beings and is therefore fundamental. 2. Myth preserves much material of social and antiquarian interest. It helps us understand the institutions and customs of primitive stages in human development, and as such has great value for scientific students of human society. 3. Myth preserves evidences of how the mind of man looked out upon his surroundings and what it did in the way of interpreting them. It makes most valuable contributions, therefore, to the history of the human mind, and must be taken into account in the science of anthropology. It must be evident that the second and third values are only in theslightest degree within the range of the child in his early years ofschool work. _Objections to myth. _ The objections to the use of myths in school mayalso be brought under three heads: 1. They come from a plane of ethics much lower than our own. This is the one strong argument against all folk material, and it has a validity that must be frankly recognized. There are the miscellaneous love affairs of Jupiter, and certain stories that have elements of horror and brutality. Such stories we cannot use, "though an error on that side is better than effeminancy. " Occasional defects cannot outweigh the great positive ethical worth of myth. We must simply make intelligent choice. The situation is not different from what it is in choosing from modern poetry and story. It would be poor evidence of our sanity if we ruled out all poetry because some of it is not fit. Let us, however, omit entirely those myths that are not suitable rather than attempt making them over to suit modern conceptions. We may properly allow liberties to a literary artist like Hawthorne that a mere artisan should not take. 2. Myth deals with the worn-out and obsolete ideas of the past, and will give children false religious and scientific notions. But one does not rule out _Paradise Lost_ because Milton's cosmogony is so purely fanciful, nor Dante because of his equally fantastic structure of the Inferno. Neither children nor older readers are ever led astray by these purely incidental backgrounds against which and by means of which the human interest is powerfully projected. 3. Myth is too deeply symbolical. But readers of different ages and abilities find results up to their stature. We do not demand that the children shall be able to understand all that is back of _Gulliver's Travels_, or _Pilgrim's Progress_, before we give them those books. What is worth while in literature has an increasing message as the powers of the reader increase. _How to use myths. _ We may sum up the conclusions thus: Select thosemyths that tell stories of dramatic force and that have sound ethicalworth. So far as possible let these be the ones most familiar inliterary allusion and in common speech. Present the myth as you wouldany other folk story. Since myth naturally comes along a little laterthan fairy stories, probably beginning not earlier than the third grade, the discussion of its meanings may take a wider range. Keep the poeticelements of the story prominent, as in most of the examples following. SUGGESTIONS For the soundest and most illuminating discussion of the values and proper use of myths in education see Edward Howard Griggs, _Moral Education_, chap, xxi, "The Ethical Value of Mythology and Folk-Lore. " For some good suggestions and lists consult Ezra Allen, "The Pedagogy of Myth in the Grades, " _Pedagogical Seminary_, Vol. VIII, p. 258. A very interesting plan for the use of myths may be found in two articles by O. O. Norris, "Myths and the Teaching of Myths, " _The American Schoolmaster_, Vol. IX, p. 96 and p. 145. Consult also MacClintock, _Literature in the Elementary School_, chap, vii, and McMurry, _Special Method in Reading_, pp. 92-105. The first nine myths in this section came originally from Greek mythology. The Romans adopted the mythology of the Greeks, but changed the names of the gods. English-speaking peoples have usually used these Latin versions. Hence in the following Greek myths the Roman names of the gods are used. In this note the Greek name is usually given in parenthesis after the Roman. According to mythology, Saturn once ruled the universe. After a great war he was overthrown and the universe was divided into three kingdoms, each governed by one of his sons. Jupiter (Zeus) ruled the heavens and the earth; Neptune (Poseidon) ruled the sea; and Pluto (Dis) ruled Hades, or Tartarus, the gloomy region of the dead in a cavern far under the surface of the earth. The home of Jupiter and the many other gods of heaven was represented as being the top of Mount Olympus, in Thessaly. Here each of the gods of heaven had a separate dwelling, but all assembled at times in the palace of Jupiter. Sometimes these gods went to earth, through a gate of clouds kept by goddesses called the Seasons. The relations between these divinities were much like those between people on earth. Some had greater power than others, and rivalries and quarrels frequently arose. Jupiter, the supreme ruler, governed by wisdom as well as by the power of his thunderbolt. He had three sisters: Juno, Vesta, and Ceres. Juno (Hera) was the wife of Jupiter and the noblest of the goddesses. Vesta (Hestia), the goddess of health, was not married. Ceres (Demeter), the goddess of agriculture, was the mother of Proserpine, who became wife of Pluto and queen of Hades. Minerva (Athena), goddess of wisdom and Jupiter's favorite daughter, had no mother, as she sprang fully armed from Jupiter's head. Venus (Aphrodite) was goddess of beauty and mother of Cupid, god of love. Two other goddesses were Diana (Artemis), modest virgin goddess of the moon, who protects brute creation, and Hebe, cup-bearer to the gods. Among the greatest of the gods were three sons of Jupiter: Apollo, Mars, and Vulcan. Apollo, or Phoebus, was god of the sun and patron of music, archery, and prophecy. Mars (Ares) was god of war, and Vulcan (Hephaestus), the lame god of fire, was the blacksmith of the gods. 255 This version of the myth of Ceres and Proserpine is taken by permission of the author and the publishers from _Stories of Long Ago_, by Grace H. Kupfer. (Copyright. D. C. Heath & Co. , Boston. ) "Of all the beautiful fictions of Greek mythology, " said Aubrey DeVere, "there are few more exquisite than the story of Proserpine, and none deeper in symbolical meaning. " That portion of its meaning fitted to the understanding of children is indicated in the final paragraphs of Miss Kupfer's version. Teachers should realize that "the fable has, however, its moral significance also, being connected with that great mystery of Joy and Grief, of Life and of Death, which pressed so heavily on the mind of Pagan Greece, and imparts to the whole of her mythology a profound interest, spiritual as well as philosophical. It was the restoration of Man, not of flowers, the victory over Death, not over Winter, with which that high Intelligence felt itself to be really concerned. " Hawthorne's version of this story appears in _Tanglewood Tales_ as "The Pomegranate Seeds. " A STORY OF THE SPRINGTIME GRACE H. KUPFER PART I In the blue Mediterranean Sea, which washes the southern shore ofEurope, lies the beautiful island of Sicily. Long, long ago, there livedon this island a goddess named Ceres. She had power to make the earthyield plentiful crops of grain, or to leave it barren; and on herdepended the food, and therefore the life of all the people on thegreat, wide earth. Ceres had one fair young daughter, whom she loved very dearly. And nowonder, for Proserpine was the sunniest, happiest girl you couldimagine. Her face was all white and pink, like apple blossoms in spring, andthere was just enough blue in her eyes to give you a glimpse of an Aprilmorning sky. Her long, golden curls reminded you of the bright sunlight. In fact there was something so young and fair and tender about themaiden that if you could imagine anything so strange as the wholespringtime, with all its loveliness, changed into a human being, youwould have looked but an instant at Proserpine and said, "She is theSpring. " Proserpine spent the long, happy days in the fields, helping her mother, or dancing and singing among the flowers, with her young companions. Way down under the earth, in the land of the dead, lived dark KingPluto; and the days were very lonely for him with only shadows to talkto. Often and often, he had tried to urge some goddess to come and sharehis gloomy throne; but not the richest jewels or wealth could tempt anyone of them to leave the bright sunlight above and dwell in the land ofshades. One day Pluto came up to earth and was driving along in his swiftchariot, when, behind some bushes, he heard such merry voices andmusical laughter that he drew rein, and stepping down, parted the bushesto see who was on the other side. There he saw Proserpine standing inthe center of a ring of laughing young girls who were pelting her withflowers. The stern old king felt his heart beat quicker at sight of all theselovely maidens, and he singled out Proserpine, and said to himself, "Sheshall be my queen. That fair face can make even dark Hades light andbeautiful. " But he knew it would be useless to ask the girl for herconsent; so, with a bold stride, he stepped into the midst of the happycircle. The young girls, frightened at his dark, stern face, fled to right andleft. But Pluto grasped Proserpine by the arm and carried her to hischariot, and then the horses flew along the ground, leaving Proserpine'sstartled companions far behind. King Pluto knew that he must hasten away with his prize, lest Ceresshould discover her loss; and to keep out of her path, he drove hischariot a roundabout way. He came to a river; but as he neared itsbanks, it suddenly began to bubble and swell and rage, so that Pluto didnot dare to drive through its waters. To go back another way would meangreat loss of time; so with his scepter he struck the ground thrice. Itopened, and, in an instant, horses, chariot, and all, plunged into thedarkness below. But Proserpine knew that the nymph of the stream had recognized her, andhad tried to save her by making the waters of the stream rise. So, justas the ground was closing over her, the girl seized her girdle and threwit far out into the river. She hoped that in some way the girdle mightreach Ceres and help her to find her lost daughter. PART II In the evening Ceres returned to her home; but her daughter, who usuallycame running to meet her, was nowhere to be seen. Ceres searched for herin all the rooms, but they were empty. Then she lighted a great torchfrom the fires of a volcano, and went wandering among the fields, looking for her child. When morning broke, and she had found no trace ofProserpine, her grief was terrible to see. On that sad day, Ceres began a long, long wandering. Over land and seashe journeyed, bearing in her right hand the torch which had beenkindled in the fiery volcano. All her duties were neglected, and everywhere the crops failed, and theground was barren and dry. Want and famine took the place of wealth andplenty throughout the world. It seemed as though the great earth grievedwith the mother for the loss of beautiful Proserpine. When the starving people came to Ceres and begged her to resume herduties and to be their friend again, Ceres lifted her great eyes, wearied with endless seeking, and answered that until Proserpine wasfound, she could think only of her child, and could not care for theneglected earth. So all the people cried aloud to Jupiter that he shouldbring Proserpine back to her mother, for they were sadly in need ofgreat Ceres' help. At last, after wandering over all the earth in her fruitless search, Ceres returned to Sicily. One day, as she was passing a river, suddenlya little swell of water carried something to her feet. Stooping to seewhat it was, she picked up the girdle which Proserpine had long agothrown to the water nymph. While she was looking at it, with tears in her eyes, she heard afountain near her bubbling louder and louder, until at last it seemed tospeak. And this is what it said: "I am the nymph of the fountain, and I come from the inmost parts of theearth, O Ceres, great mother! There I saw your daughter seated on athrone at the dark king's side. But in spite of her splendor, her cheekswere pale and her eyes were heavy with weeping. I can stay no longernow, O Ceres, for I must leap into the sunshine. The bright sky callsme, and I must hasten away. " Then Ceres arose and went to Jupiter and said, "I have found the placewhere my daughter is hidden. Give her back to me, and the earth shallonce more be fruitful, and the people shall have food. " Jupiter was moved, both by the mother's sorrow and by the prayers of thepeople on earth; and he said that Proserpine might return to her home ifshe had tasted no food while in Pluto's kingdom. So the happy mother hastened down into Hades. But alas! that very dayProserpine had eaten six pomegranate seeds; and for every one of thoseseeds she was doomed each year to spend a month underground. For six months of the year Ceres is happy with her daughter. AtProserpine's coming, flowers bloom and birds sing and the eartheverywhere smiles its welcome to its young queen. Some people say that Proserpine really is the springtime, and that whileshe is with us all the earth seems fair and beautiful. But when the timecomes for Proserpine to rejoin King Pluto in his dark home underground, Ceres hides herself and grieves through all the weary months until herdaughter's return. Then the earth, too, is somber and sad. The leaves fall to the ground, as though the trees were weeping for the loss of the fair, young queen;and the flowers hide underground, until the eager step of the maiden, returning to earth, awakens all nature from its winter sleep. 256 Because of his beautiful idealism and the artistic nature of his work, Hawthorne (1804-1864) is one of America's most loved story-tellers. His stories are never idle tales, for each one reveals secret motives and impulses that determine human action. This characteristic makes his works wholesome and inspiring for both children and adults. Four volumes of his short stories, intended primarily for children, are classics for the upper grades. _Grandfather's Chair_ is a group of stories about life in New England in early times. _True Stories from History and Biography_ makes the child acquainted with such historical characters as Franklin and Newton. _A Wonder-Book for Girls and Boys_ and _Tanglewood Tales_ are Hawthorne's versions of old Greek myths. In his two volumes of Greek myths, Hawthorne does not hold to the plot or style of the original stories; but here, as in all his work, he shows how incidents in life determine human character. The following quotation from the Preface to _A Wonder-Book for Girls and Boys_ explains in Hawthorne's own words the nature of his version of the myths: "He [the author] does not plead guilty to a sacrilege in having sometimes shaped anew, as his fancy dictated, the forms that have been hallowed by an antiquity of two or three thousand years. No epoch of time can claim a copyright in these immortal fables. They seem never to have been made; and certainly, so long as man exists, they can never perish; but, by their indestructibility itself, they are legitimate subjects for every age to clothe with its own garniture of manners and sentiment, and to imbue with its own morality. " The story "The Paradise of Children, " taken from _A Wonder-Book for Girls and Boys_, is Hawthorne's version of the Greek myth of Pandora's Box, which is an attempt to explain how pain and suffering came to humanity. According to the Greek myth, Jupiter was angry when he learned that Prometheus, one of the Titans, had given men fire stolen from heaven. That men might not have this blessing without an affliction to compensate, the gods filled a box with ills, but put Hope also in the box. Then, fearing that neither Prometheus nor his brother Epimetheus would open the box, they created Pandora. Mercury, the messenger of Jupiter, carried Pandora and the box as a gift to Epimetheus, and the curiosity of Pandora led her to open the box. THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE Long, long ago, when this old world was in its tender infancy, there wasa child named Epimetheus, who never had either father or mother; and, that he might not be lonely, another child, fatherless and motherlesslike himself, was sent from a far country to live with him and be hisplayfellow and helpmate. Her name was Pandora. The first thing that Pandora saw, when she entered the cottage whereEpimetheus dwelt, was a great box. And almost the first question whichshe put to him, after crossing the threshold, was this, -- "Epimetheus, what have you in that box?" "My dear little Pandora, " answered Epimetheus, "that is a secret, andyou must be kind enough not to ask any questions about it. The box wasleft here to be kept safely, and I do not myself know what itcontains. " "But who gave it to you?" asked Pandora. "And where did it come from?" "That is a secret, too, " replied Epimetheus. "How provoking!" exclaimed Pandora, pouting her lip. "I wish the great, ugly box were out of the way!" "Oh, come, don't think of it any more, " cried Epimetheus. "Let us runout of doors, and have some nice play with the other children. " It is thousands of years since Epimetheus and Pandora were alive; andthe world, nowadays, is a very different sort of thing from what it wasin their time. Then, everybody was a child. There needed no fathers andmothers to take care of the children; because there was no danger, nortrouble of any kind, and no clothes to be mended, and there was alwaysplenty to eat and drink. Whenever a child wanted his dinner, he found itgrowing on a tree; and, if he looked at the tree in the morning, hecould see the expanding blossom of that night's supper; or, at eventide, he saw the tender bud of to-morrow's breakfast. It was a very pleasantlife, indeed. No labor to be done, no tasks to be studied; nothing butsports and dances, and sweet voices of children talking, or carolinglike birds, or gushing out in merry laughter, throughout the livelongday. What was most wonderful of all, the children never quarreled amongthemselves; neither had they any crying fits; nor, since time firstbegan, had a single one of these little mortals ever gone apart into acorner, and sulked. Oh, what a good time was that to be alive in! Thetruth is, those ugly little winged monsters, called Troubles, which arenow almost as numerous as mosquitoes, had never yet been seen on theearth. It is probable that the very greatest disquietude which a childhad ever experienced was Pandora's vexation at not being able todiscover the secret of the mysterious box. This was at first only the faint shadow of a Trouble; but, every day, itgrew more and more substantial, until, before a great while, the cottageof Epimetheus and Pandora was less sunshiny than those of the otherchildren. "Whence can the box have come?" Pandora continually kept saying toherself and to Epimetheus. "And what in the world can be inside of it!" "Always talking about this box!" said Epimetheus, at last; for he hadgrown extremely tired of the subject. "I wish, dear Pandora, you wouldtry to talk of something else. Come, let us go and gather some ripefigs, and eat them under the trees, for our supper. And I know a vinethat has the sweetest and juiciest grapes you ever tasted. " "Always talking about grapes and figs!" cried Pandora, pettishly. "Well, then, " said Epimetheus, who was a very good-tempered child, likea multitude of children in those days, "let us run out and have a merrytime with our playmates. " "I am tired of merry times, and don't care if I never have any more!"answered our pettish little Pandora. "And, besides, I never do have any. This ugly box! I am so taken up with thinking about it all the time. Iinsist upon your telling me what is inside of it. " "As I have already said, fifty times over, I do not know!" repliedEpimetheus, getting a little vexed. "How, then, can I tell you what isinside?" "You might open it, " said Pandora, looking sideways at Epimetheus, "andthen we could see for ourselves. " "Pandora, what are you thinking of?" exclaimed Epimetheus. And his face expressed so much horror at the idea of looking into a boxwhich had been confided to him on the condition of his never opening it, that Pandora thought it best not to suggest it any more. Still, however, she could not help thinking and talking about the box. "At least, " said she, "you can tell me how it came here. " "It was left at the door, " replied Epimetheus, "just before you came, bya person who looked very smiling and intelligent, and who could hardlyforbear laughing as he put it down. He was dressed in an odd kind of acloak, and had on a cap that seemed to be made partly of feathers, sothat it looked almost as if it had wings. " "What sort of a staff had he?" asked Pandora. "Oh, the most curious staff you ever saw!" cried Epimetheus. "It waslike two serpents twisting around a stick, and was carved so naturallythat I, at first, thought the serpents were alive. " "I know him, " said Pandora, thoughtfully. "Nobody else has such a staff. It was Quicksilver; and he brought me hither, as well as the box. Nodoubt he intended it for me; and, most probably, it contains prettydresses for me to wear, or toys for you and me to play with, orsomething very nice for us both to eat!" "Perhaps so, " answered Epimetheus, turning away. "But until Quicksilvercomes back and tells us so, we have neither of us any right to lift thelid of the box. " "What a dull boy he is!" muttered Pandora, as Epimetheus left thecottage. "I do wish he had a little more enterprise!" For the first time since her arrival, Epimetheus had gone out withoutasking Pandora to accompany him. He went to gather figs and grapes byhimself, or to seek whatever amusement he could find, in other societythan his little playfellow's. He was tired to death of hearing about thebox, and heartily wished that Quicksilver, or whatever was themessenger's name, had left it at some other child's door, where Pandorawould never have set eyes on it. So perseveringly as she did babbleabout this one thing! The box, the box, and nothing but the box! Itseemed as if the box were bewitched, and as if the cottage were not bigenough to hold it, without Pandora's continually stumbling over it, andmaking Epimetheus stumble over it likewise, and bruising all four oftheir shins. Well, it was really hard that poor Epimetheus should have a box in hisears from morning till night; especially as the little people of theearth were so unaccustomed to vexations, in those happy days, that theyknew not how to deal with them. Thus, a small vexation made as muchdisturbance, then, as a far bigger one would in our own times. After Epimetheus was gone, Pandora stood gazing at the box. She hadcalled it ugly, above a hundred times; but, in spite of all that she hadsaid against it, it was positively a very handsome article of furniture, and would have been quite an ornament to any room in which it should beplaced. It was made of a beautiful kind of wood, with dark and richveins spreading over its surface, which was so highly polished thatlittle Pandora could see her face in it. As the child had no otherlooking-glass, it is odd that she did not value the box, merely on thisaccount. The edges and corners of the box were carved with most wonderful skill. Around the margin there were figures of graceful men and women, and theprettiest children ever seen, reclining or sporting amid a profusion offlowers and foliage; and these various objects were so exquisitelyrepresented, and were wrought together in such harmony, that flowers, foliage, and human beings seemed to combine into a wreath of mingledbeauty. But here and there, peeping forth from behind the carvedfoliage, Pandora once or twice fancied that she saw a face not solovely, or something or other that was disagreeable, and which stole thebeauty out of all the rest. Nevertheless, on looking more closely, andtouching the spot with her finger, she could discover nothing of thekind. Some face, that was really beautiful, had been made to look uglyby her catching a sideway glimpse at it. The most beautiful face of all was done in what is called high relief, in the center of the lid. There was nothing else, save the dark, smoothrichness of the polished wood, and this one face in the center, with agarland of flowers about its brow. Pandora had looked at this face agreat many times, and imagined that the mouth could smile if it liked, or be grave when it chose, the same as any living mouth. The features, indeed, all wore a very lively and rather mischievous expression, whichlooked almost as if it needs must burst out of the carved lips, andutter itself in words. Had the mouth spoken, it would probably have been something like this: "Do not be afraid, Pandora! What harm can there be in opening the box?Never mind that poor, simple Epimetheus! You are wiser than he, and haveten times as much spirit. Open the box, and see if you do not findsomething very pretty!" The box, I had almost forgotten to say, was fastened; not by a lock, norby any other such contrivance, but by a very intricate knot of goldcord. There appeared to be no end to this knot, and no beginning. Neverwas a knot so cunningly twisted, nor with so many ins and outs, whichroguishly defied the skilfullest fingers to disentangle them. And yet, by the very difficulty that there was in it, Pandora was the moretempted to examine the knot, and just see how it was made. Two or threetimes, already, she had stooped over the box, and taken the knot betweenher thumb and forefinger, but without positively trying to undo it. "I really believe, " said she to herself, "that I begin to see how it wasdone. Nay, perhaps I could tie it up again, after undoing it. Therewould be no harm in that, surely. Even Epimetheus would not blame me forthat. I need not open the box, and should not, of course, without thefoolish boy's consent, even if the knot were untied. " It might have been better for Pandora if she had had a little work todo, or anything to employ her mind upon, so as not to be so constantlythinking of this one subject. But children led so easy a life, beforeany Troubles came into the world, that they had really a great deal toomuch leisure. They could not be forever playing at hide-and-seek amongthe flower-shrubs, or at blind-man's-buff with garlands over their eyes, or at whatever other games had been found out while Mother Earth was inher babyhood. When life is all sport, toil is the real play. There wasabsolutely nothing to do. A little sweeping and dusting about thecottage, I suppose, and the gathering of fresh flowers (which were onlytoo abundant everywhere), and arranging them in vases, --and poor littlePandora's day's work was over. And then, for the rest of the day, therewas the box! After all, I am not quite sure that the box was not a blessing to her inits way. It supplied her with such a variety of ideas to think of, andto talk about, whenever she had anybody to listen! When she was in goodhumor, she could admire the bright polish of its sides, and the richborder of beautiful faces and foliage that ran all around it. Or, if shechanced to be ill-tempered, she could give it a push, or kick it withher naughty little foot. And many a kick did the box--(but it was amischievous box, as we shall see, and deserved all it got)--many a kickdid it receive. But, certain it is, if it had not been for the box, ouractive-minded little Pandora would not have known half so well how tospend her time as she now did. For it was really an endless employment to guess what was inside. Whatcould it be, indeed? Just imagine, my little hearers, how busy your witswould be, if there were a great box in the house, which, as you mighthave reason to suppose, contained something new and pretty for yourChristmas or New-Year's gifts. Do you think that you should be lesscurious than Pandora? If you were alone with the box, might you not feela little tempted to lift the lid? But you would not do it. Oh, fie! No, no! Only, if you thought there were toys in it, it would be so very hardto let slip an opportunity of taking just one peep! I know not whetherPandora expected any toys; for none had yet begun to be made, probably, in those days, when the world itself was one great plaything for thechildren that dwelt upon it. But Pandora was convinced that there wassomething very beautiful and valuable in the box; and therefore she feltjust as anxious to take a peep as any of these girls, here around me, would have felt. And, possibly, a little more so; but of that I am notquite so certain. On this particular day, however, which we have so long been talkingabout, her curiosity grew so much greater than it usually was, that, atlast, she approached the box. She was more than half determined to openit, if she could. Ah, naughty Pandora! First, however, she tried to lift it. It was heavy; quite too heavy forthe slender strength of a child, like Pandora. She raised one end of thebox a few inches from the floor, and let it fall again, with a prettyloud thump. A moment afterwards, she almost fancied that she heardsomething stir, inside of the box. She applied her ear as closely aspossible, and listened. Positively, there did seem to be a kind ofstifled murmur, within! Or was it merely the singing in Pandora's ears?Or could it be the beating of her heart? The child could not quitesatisfy herself whether she had heard anything or no. But, at allevents, her curiosity was stronger than ever. As she drew back her head, her eyes fell upon the knot of gold cord. "It must have been a very ingenious person who tied this knot, " saidPandora to herself. "But I think I could untie it, nevertheless. I amresolved, at least, to find the two ends of the cord. " So she took the golden knot in her fingers, and pried into itsintricacies as sharply as she could. Almost without intending it, orquite knowing what she was about, she was soon busily engaged inattempting to undo it. Meanwhile, the bright sunshine came through theopen window; as did likewise the merry voices of the children, playingat a distance, and perhaps the voice of Epimetheus among them. Pandorastopped to listen. What a beautiful day it was! Would it not be wiser ifshe were to let the troublesome knot alone, and think no more about thebox, but run and join her little playfellows, and be happy? All this time, however, her fingers were half unconsciously busy withthe knot; and, happening to glance at the flower-wreathed face on thelid of the enchanted box, she seemed to perceive it slyly grinning ather. "That face looks very mischievous, " thought Pandora. "I wonder whetherit smiles because I am doing wrong! I have the greatest mind in theworld to run away!" But just then, by the merest accident, she gave the knot a kind of atwist, which produced a wonderful result. The gold cord untwined itself, as if by magic, and left the box without a fastening. "This is the strangest thing I ever knew!" said Pandora. "What willEpimetheus say? And how can I possibly tie it up again?" She made one or two attempts to restore the knot, but soon found itquite beyond her skill. It had disentangled itself so suddenly that shecould not in the least remember how the strings had been doubled intoone another; and when she tried to recollect the shape and appearance ofthe knot, it seemed to have gone entirely out of her mind. Nothing wasto be done, therefore, but let the box remain as it was, untilEpimetheus should come in. "But, " said Pandora, "when he finds the knot untied, he will know that Ihave done it. How shall I make him believe that I have not looked intothe box?" And then the thought came into her naughty little heart, that, since shewould be suspected of having looked into the box, she might just as welldo so, at once. Oh, very naughty and very foolish Pandora! You shouldhave thought only of doing what was right, and of leaving undone whatwas wrong, and not of what your playfellow Epimetheus would have said orbelieved. And so perhaps she might, if the enchanted face on the lid ofthe box had not looked so bewitchingly persuasive at her, and if she hadnot seemed to hear, more distinctly than before, the murmur of smallvoices within. She could not tell whether it was fancy or no; but therewas quite a little tumult of whispers in her ear, --or else it was hercuriosity that whispered: "Let us out, dear Pandora, --pray let us out! We will be such nice prettyplayfellows for you! Only let us out!" "What can it be?" thought Pandora. "Is there something alive in the box?Well!--yes!--I am resolved to take just one peep! Only one peep; andthen the lid shall be shut down as safely as ever! There cannot possiblybe any harm in just one little peep!" But it is now time for us to see what Epimetheus was doing. This was the first time, since his little playmate had come to dwellwith him, that he had attempted to enjoy any pleasure in which she didnot partake. But nothing went right; nor was he nearly so happy as onother days. He could not find a sweet grape or a ripe fig (if Epimetheushad a fault, it was a little too much fondness for figs); or, if ripe atall, they were over-ripe, and so sweet as to be cloying. There was nomirth in his heart, such as usually made his voice gush out, of its ownaccord, and swell the merriment of his companions. In short, he grew souneasy and discontented, that the other children could not imagine whatwas the matter with Epimetheus. Neither did he himself know what ailedhim, any better than they did. For you must recollect that at the timewe are speaking of, it was everybody's nature, and constant habit, to behappy. The world had not yet learned to be otherwise. Not a single soulor body, since these children were first sent to enjoy themselves on thebeautiful earth, had ever been sick, or out of sorts. At length, discovering that, somehow or other, he put a stop to all theplay, Epimetheus judged it best to go back to Pandora, who was in ahumor better suited to his own. But, with a hope of giving her pleasure, he gathered some flowers, and made them into a wreath, which he meant toput upon her head. The flowers were very lovely, --roses, and lilies, andorange-blossoms, and a great many more, which left a trail of fragrancebehind, as Epimetheus carried them along; and the wreath was puttogether with as much skill as could reasonably be expected of a boy. The fingers of little girls, it has always appeared to me, are thefittest to twine flower-wreaths; but boys could do it, in those days, rather better than they can now. And here I must mention that a great black cloud had been gathering inthe sky, for some time past, although it had not yet overspread the sun. But, just as Epimetheus reached the cottage door, this cloud began tointercept the sunshine, and thus to make a sudden and sad obscurity. He entered softly; for he meant, if possible, to steal behind Pandora, and fling the wreath of flowers over her head, before she should beaware of his approach. But, as it happened, there was no need of histreading so very lightly. He might have trod as heavily as hepleased, --as heavily as a grown man, --as heavily, I was going to say, asan elephant, --without much probability of Pandora's hearing hisfootsteps. She was too intent upon her purpose. At the moment of hisentering the cottage, the naughty child had put her hand to the lid, andwas on the point of opening the mysterious box. Epimetheus beheld her. If he had cried out, Pandora would probably have withdrawn her hand, andthe fatal mystery of the box might never have been known. But Epimetheus himself, although he said very little about it, had hisown share of curiosity to know what was inside. Perceiving that Pandorawas resolved to find out the secret, he determined that his playfellowshould not be the only wise person in the cottage. And if there wereanything pretty or valuable in the box, he meant to take half of it tohimself. Thus, after all his sage speeches to Pandora about restrainingher curiosity, Epimetheus turned out to be quite as foolish, and nearlyas much in fault, as she. So, whenever we blame Pandora for whathappened, we must not forget to shake our heads at Epimetheus likewise. As Pandora raised the lid, the cottage grew very dark and dismal; forthe black cloud had now swept quite over the sun, and seemed to haveburied it alive. There had, for a little while past, been a low growlingand muttering, which all at once broke into a heavy peal of thunder. ButPandora, heeding nothing of all this, lifted the lid nearly upright, andlooked inside. It seemed as if a sudden swarm of winged creaturesbrushed past her, taking flight out of the box, while, at the sameinstant, she heard the voice of Epimetheus, with a lamentable tone, asif he were in pain. "Oh, I am stung!" cried he. "I am stung! Naughty Pandora; why have youopened this wicked box?" Pandora let fall the lid, and, starting up, looked about her, to seewhat had befallen Epimetheus. The thunder-cloud had so darkened the roomthat she could not very clearly discern what was in it. But she heard adisagreeable buzzing, as if a great many huge flies, or giganticmosquitoes, or those insects which we call dor-bugs and pinching-dogs, were darting about. And, as her eyes grew more accustomed to theimperfect light, she saw a crowd of ugly little shapes, with bats'wings, looking abominably spiteful, and armed with terribly long stingsin their tails. It was one of these that had stung Epimetheus. Nor wasit a great while before Pandora herself began to scream, in no less painand affright than her playfellow, and making a vast deal more hubbubabout it. An odious little monster had settled on her forehead, andwould have stung her I know not how deeply, if Epimetheus had not runand brushed it away. Now, if you wish to know what these ugly things might be, which had madetheir escape out of the box, I must tell you that they were the wholefamily of earthly Troubles. There were evil Passions; there were a greatmany species of Cares; there were more than a hundred and fifty Sorrows;there were Diseases, in a vast number of miserable and painful shapes;there were more kinds of Naughtiness than it would be of any use to talkabout. In short, everything that has since afflicted the souls andbodies of mankind had been shut up in the mysterious box, and given toEpimetheus and Pandora to be kept safely, in order that the happychildren of the world might never be molested by them. Had they beenfaithful to their trust, all would have gone well. No grown person wouldever have been sad, nor any child have had cause to shed a single tear, from that hour until this moment. But--and you may see by this how a wrong act of any one mortal is acalamity to the whole world--by Pandora's lifting the lid of thatmiserable box, and by the fault of Epimetheus, too, in not preventingher, these Troubles have obtained a foothold among us, and do not seemvery likely to be driven away in a hurry. For it was impossible, as youwill easily guess, that the two children should keep the ugly swarm intheir own little cottage. On the contrary, the first thing that they didwas to fling open the doors and windows, in hopes of getting rid ofthem; and, sure enough, away flew the winged Troubles all abroad, andso pestered and tormented the small people, everywhere about, that noneof them so much as smiled for many days afterwards. And what was verysingular, all the flowers and dewy blossoms on earth, not one of whichhad hitherto faded, now began to droop and shed their leaves, after aday or two. The children, moreover, who before seemed immortal in theirchildhood, now grew older, day by day, and came soon to be youths andmaidens, and men and women by and by, and aged people, before theydreamed of such a thing. Meanwhile, the naughty Pandora, and hardly less naughty Epimetheus, remained in their cottage. Both of them had been grievously stung, andwere in a good deal of pain, which seemed the more intolerable to thembecause it was the very first pain that had ever been felt since theworld began. Of course, they were entirely unaccustomed to it, and couldhave no idea what it meant. Besides all this, they were in exceedinglybad humor, both with themselves and with one another. In order toindulge it to the utmost, Epimetheus sat down sullenly in a corner withhis back towards Pandora; while Pandora flung herself upon the floor andrested her head on the fatal and abominable box. She was cryingbitterly, and sobbing as if her heart would break. Suddenly there was a gentle little tap on the inside of the lid. "What can that be?" cried Pandora, lifting her head. But either Epimetheus had not heard the tap, or was too much out ofhumor to notice it. At any rate, he made no answer. "You are very unkind, " said Pandora, sobbing anew, "not to speak to me!" Again the tap! It sounded like the tiny knuckles of a fairy's hand, knocking lightly and playfully on the inside of the box. "Who are you?" asked Pandora, with a little of her former curiosity. "Who are you, inside of this naughty box?" A sweet little voice spoke from within, "Only lift the lid, and you shall see. " "No, no, " answered Pandora, again beginning to sob. "I have had enoughof lifting the lid! You are inside of the box, naughty creature, andthere you shall stay! There are plenty of your ugly brothers and sistersalready flying about the world. You need never think that I shall be sofoolish as to let you out!" She looked towards Epimetheus, as she spoke, perhaps expecting that hewould commend her for her wisdom. But the sullen boy only muttered thatshe was wise a little too late. "Ah, " said the sweet little voice again, "you had much better let meout. I am not like those naughty creatures that have stings in theirtails. They are no brothers and sisters of mine, as you would see atonce, if you were only to get a glimpse of me. Come, come, my prettyPandora! I am sure you will let me out!" And, indeed, there was a kind of cheerful witchery in the tone that madeit almost impossible to refuse anything which this little voice asked. Pandora's heart had insensibly grown lighter at every word that camefrom within the box. Epimetheus, too, though still in the corner, hadturned half round, and seemed to be in rather better spirits thanbefore. "My dear Epimetheus, " cried Pandora, "have you heard this little voice?" "Yes, to be sure I have, " answered he, but in no very good humor as yet. "And what of it?" "Shall I lift the lid again?" asked Pandora. "Just as you please, " said Epimetheus. "You have done so much mischiefalready that perhaps you may as well do a little more. One otherTrouble, in such a swarm as you have let adrift about the world, canmake no very great difference. " "You might speak a little more kindly!" murmured Pandora, wiping hereyes. "Ah, naughty boy!" cried the little voice within the box, in an arch andlaughing tone. "He knows he is longing to see me. Come, my dear Pandora, lift up the lid. I am in a great hurry to comfort you. Only let me havesome fresh air, and you shall soon see that matters are not quite sodismal as you think them. " "Epimetheus, " exclaimed Pandora, "come what may, I am resolved to openthe box. " "And, as the lid seems very heavy, " cried Epimetheus, running across theroom, "I will help you!" So, with one consent, the two children again lifted the lid. Out flew asunny and smiling little personage, and hovered about the room, throwinga light wherever she went. Have you never made the sunshine dance intothe dark corners by reflecting it from a bit of looking-glass? Well, solooked the winged cheerfulness of this fairy-like stranger amid thegloom of the cottage. She flew to Epimetheus, and laid the least touchof her finger on the inflamed spot where the Trouble had stung him, andimmediately the anguish of it was gone. Then she kissed Pandora on theforehead, and her hurt was cured likewise. After performing these good offices, the bright stranger flutteredsportively over the children's heads, and looked so sweetly at them, that they both began to think it not so very much amiss to have openedthe box, since, otherwise, their cheery guest must have been kept aprisoner among those naughty imps with stings in their tails. "Pray, who are you, beautiful creature?" inquired Pandora. "I am to be called Hope!" answered the sunshiny figure. "And because Iam such a cheery little body, I was packed into the box to make amendsto the human race for that swarm of ugly Troubles which was destined tobe let loose among them. Never fear! we shall do pretty well, in spiteof them all. " "Your wings are colored like the rainbow!" exclaimed Pandora. "How verybeautiful!" "Yes, they are like the rainbow, " said Hope, "because, glad as my natureis, I am partly made of tears as well as smiles. " "And will you stay with us, " asked Epimetheus, "forever and ever?" "As long as you need me, " said Hope, with her pleasant smile, --"and thatwill be as long as you live in the world, --I promise never to desertyou. There may come times and seasons, now and then, when you will thinkthat I have utterly vanished. But again, and again, and again, whenperhaps you least dream of it, you shall see the glimmer of my wings onthe ceiling of your cottage. Yes, my dear children, and I knowsomething very good and beautiful that is to be given you hereafter!" "Oh, tell us, " they exclaimed--"tell us what it is!" "Do not ask me, " replied Hope, putting her finger on her rosy mouth. "But do not despair, even if it should never happen while you live onthis earth. Trust in my promise, for it is true. " "We do trust you!" cried Epimetheus and Pandora, both in one breath. And so they did; and not only they, but so has everybody trusted Hope, that has since been alive. And, to tell you the truth, I cannot helpbeing glad--(though, to be sure, it was an uncommonly naughty thing forher to do)--but I cannot help being glad that our foolish Pandora peepedinto the box. No doubt--no doubt--the Troubles are still flying aboutthe world, and have increased in multitude, rather than lessened, andare a very ugly set of imps, and carry most venomous stings in theirtails. I have felt them already, and expect to feel them more as I growolder. But then that lovely and lightsome little figure of Hope! What inthe world could we do without her? Hope spiritualizes the earth; Hopemakes it always new; and, even in the earth's best and brightest aspect, Hope shows it to be only the shadow of an infinite bliss hereafter! 257 "The Miraculous Pitcher, " taken from _A Wonder-Book for Girls and Boys_, is Hawthorne's version of the Greek myth of Baucis and Philemon. The two mysterious visitors are Jupiter and Mercury, who, according to the Greek myth, visited earth in disguise and were entertained by Baucis and Philemon. THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE One evening, in times long ago, old Philemon and his old wife Baucis satat their cottage door, enjoying the calm and beautiful sunset. They hadalready eaten their frugal supper, and intended now to spend a quiethour or two before bedtime. So they talked together about their gardenand their cow, and their bees, and their grape-vine, which clamberedover the cottage-wall, and on which the grapes were beginning to turnpurple. But the rude shouts of children and the fierce barking of dogs, in the village near at hand, grew louder and louder, until, at last, itwas hardly possible for Baucis and Philemon to hear each other speak. "Ah, wife, " cried Philemon, "I fear some poor traveler is seekinghospitality among our neighbors yonder, and, instead of giving him foodand lodging, they have set their dogs at him, as their custom is!" "Well-a-day!" answered old Baucis, "I do wish our neighbors felt alittle more kindness for their fellow-creatures. And only think ofbringing up their children in this naughty way, and patting them on thehead when they fling stones at strangers!" "Those children will never come to any good, " said Philemon, shaking hiswhite head. "To tell you the truth, wife, I should not wonder if someterrible thing were to happen to all the people in the village, unlessthey mend their manners. But, as for you and me, so long as Providenceaffords us a crust of bread, let us be ready to give half to any poor, homeless stranger that may come along and need it. " "That's right, husband!" said Baucis. "So we will!" These old folks, you must know, were quite poor, and had to work prettyhard for a living. Old Philemon toiled diligently in his garden, whileBaucis was always busy with her distaff, or making a little butter andcheese with their cow's milk, or doing one thing and another about thecottage. Their food was seldom anything but bread, milk, and vegetables, with sometimes a portion of honey from their beehive, and now and then abunch of grapes, that had ripened against the cottage wall. But theywere two of the kindest old people in the world, and would cheerfullyhave gone without their dinners, any day, rather than refuse a slice oftheir brown loaf, a cup of nice milk, and a spoonful of honey, to theweary traveler who might pause before their door. They felt as if suchguests had a sort of holiness, and that they ought, therefore, to treatthem better and more bountifully than their own selves. Their cottage stood on a rising ground, at some short distance from avillage, which lay in a hollow valley, that was about half a mile inbreadth. This valley, in past ages, when the world was new, had probablybeen the bed of a lake. There, fishes had glided to and fro in thedepths, and water-weeds had grown along the margin, and trees and hillshad seen their reflected images in the broad and peaceful mirror. But, as the waters subsided, men had cultivated the soil, and built houses onit, so that it was now a fertile spot, and bore no traces of the ancientlake, except a very small brook, which meandered through the midst ofthe village, and supplied the inhabitants with water. The valley hadbeen dry land so long that oaks had sprung up, and grown great and high, and perished with old age, and been succeeded by others, as tall andstately as the first. Never was there a prettier or more fruitfulvalley. The very sight of the plenty around them should have made theinhabitants kind and gentle and ready to show their gratitude toProvidence by doing good to their fellow-creatures. But, we are sorry to say, the people of this lovely village were notworthy to dwell in a spot on which Heaven had smiled so beneficently. They were a very selfish and hard-hearted people, and had no pity forthe poor, nor sympathy with the homeless. They would only have laughedhad anybody told them that human beings owe a debt of love to oneanother, because there is no other method of paying the debt of love andcare which all of us owe to Providence. You will hardly believe what Iam going to tell you. These naughty people taught their children to beno better than themselves, and used to clap their hands, by way ofencouragement, when they saw the little boys and girls run after somepoor stranger, shouting at his heels, and pelting him with stones. Theykept large and fierce dogs, and whenever a traveler ventured to showhimself in the village street, this pack of disagreeable curs scamperedto meet him, barking, snarling, and showing their teeth. Then they wouldseize him by his leg, or by his clothes, just as it happened; and if hewere ragged when he came, he was generally a pitiable object before hehad time to run away. This was a very terrible thing to poor travelers, as you may suppose, especially when they chanced to be sick, or feeble, or lame, or old. Such persons (if they once knew how badly these unkindpeople, and their unkind children and curs, were in the habit ofbehaving) would go miles and miles out of their way rather than try topass through the village again. What made the matter seem worse, if possible, was that when rich personscame in their chariots, or riding on beautiful horses, with theirservants in rich liveries attending on them, nobody could be more civiland obsequious than the inhabitants of the village. They would take offtheir hats, and make the humblest bows you ever saw. If the childrenwere rude, they were pretty certain to get their ears boxed; and as forthe dogs, if a single cur in the pack presumed to yelp, his masterinstantly beat him with a club, and tied him up without any supper. Thiswould have been all very well, only it proved that the villagers caredmuch about the money that a stranger had in his pocket, and nothingwhatever for the human soul, which lives equally in the beggar and theprince. So now you can understand why old Philemon spoke so sorrowfully when heheard the shouts of the children and the barking of the dogs at thefurther extremity of the village street. There was a confused din, whichlasted a good while, and seemed to pass quite through the breadth of thevalley. "I never heard the dogs so loud!" observed the good old man. "Nor the children so rude!" answered his good old wife. They sat shaking their heads, one to another, while the noise camenearer and nearer; until, at the foot of the little eminence on whichtheir cottage stood, they saw two travelers approaching on foot. Closebehind them came the fierce dogs, snarling at their very heels. A littlefarther off, ran a crowd of children, who sent up shrill cries, andflung stones at the two strangers, with all their might. Once or twice, the younger of the two men (he was a slender and very active figure)turned about, and drove back the dogs with a staff which he carried inhis hand. His companion, who was a very tall person, walked calmlyalong, as if disdaining to notice either the naughty children or thepack of curs, whose manners the children seemed to imitate. Both of the travelers were very humbly clad, and looked as if they mightnot have money enough in their pockets to pay for a night's lodging. Andthis, I am afraid, was the reason why the villagers had allowed theirchildren and dogs to treat them so rudely. "Come, wife, " said Philemon to Baucis, "let us go and meet these poorpeople. No doubt they feel almost too heavy-hearted to climb the hill. " "Go you and meet them, " answered Baucis, "while I make haste withindoors and see whether we can get them anything for supper. A comfortablebowl of bread and milk would do wonders towards raising their spirits. " Accordingly, she hastened into the cottage. Philemon, on his part, wentforward and extended his hand with so hospitable an aspect that therewas no need of saying, what nevertheless he did say, in the heartiesttone imaginable, -- "Welcome, strangers! welcome!" "Thank you!" replied the younger of the two, in a lively kind of way, notwithstanding his weariness and trouble. "This is quite anothergreeting than we have met with yonder, in the village. Pray, why do youlive in such a bad neighborhood?" "Ah, " observed old Philemon, with a quiet and benign smile, "Providenceput me here, I hope, among other reasons, in order that I may make youwhat amends I can for the inhospitality of my neighbors. " "Well said, old father!" said the traveler, laughing; "and, if the truthmust be told, my companion and myself need some amends. Those children(the little rascals!) have bespattered us finely with their mud-balls;and one of the curs has torn my cloak, which was ragged enough already. But I took him across the muzzle with my staff; and I think you may haveheard him yelp, even thus far off. " Philemon was glad to see him in such good spirits; nor, indeed, wouldyou have fancied, by the traveler's look and manner, that he was wearywith a long day's journey, besides being disheartened by rough treatmentat the end of it. He was dressed in rather an odd way, with a sort ofcap on his head, the brim of which stuck out over both ears. Though itwas a summer evening, he wore a cloak, which he kept wrapt closely abouthim, perhaps because his under garments were shabby. Philemon perceived, too, that he had on a singular pair of shoes; but, as it was now growingdusk, and as the old man's eyesight was none the sharpest, he could notprecisely tell in what the strangeness consisted. One thing, certainly, seemed queer. The traveler was so wonderfully light and active, that itappeared as if his feet sometimes rose from the ground of their ownaccord, or could only be kept down by an effort. "I used to be light-footed, in my youth, " said Philemon to the traveler. "But I always found my feet grow heavier towards nightfall. " "There is nothing like a good staff to help one along, " answered thestranger; "and I happen to have an excellent one, as you see. " This staff, in fact, was the oddest-looking staff that Philemon had everbeheld. It was made of olive-wood, and had something like a little pairof wings near the top. Two snakes, carved in the wood, were representedas twining themselves about the staff, and were so very skillfullyexecuted that old Philemon (whose eyes, you know, were getting ratherdim) almost thought them alive, and that he could see them wriggling andtwisting. "A curious piece of work, sure enough!" said he. "A staff with wings! Itwould be an excellent kind of stick for a little boy to ride astrideof!" By this time, Philemon and his two guests had reached the cottage door. "Friends, " said the old man, "sit down and rest yourselves here on thisbench. My good wife Baucis has gone to see what you can have for supper. We are poor folks; but you shall be welcome to whatever we have in thecupboard. " The younger stranger threw himself carelessly on the bench, letting hisstaff fall as he did so. And here happened something rather marvelous, though trifling enough, too. The staff seemed to get up from the groundof its own accord, and, spreading its little pair of wings, it halfhopped, half flew, and leaned itself against the wall of the cottage. There it stood quite still, except that the snakes continued to wriggle. But, in my private opinion, old Philemon's eyesight had been playing himtricks again. Before he could ask any questions, the elder stranger drew his attentionfrom the wonderful staff by speaking to him. "Was there not, " asked the stranger, in a remarkably deep tone of voice, "a lake, in very ancient times, covering the spot where now standsyonder village?" "Not in my day, friend, " answered Philemon; "and yet I am an old man, asyou see. There were always the fields and meadows, just as they are now, and the old trees, and the little stream murmuring through the midst ofthe valley. My father, nor his father before him, ever saw it otherwise, so far as I know; and doubtless it will still be the same when oldPhilemon shall be gone and forgotten!" "That is more than can be safely foretold, " observed the stranger; andthere was something very stern in his deep voice. He shook his head, too, so that his dark and heavy curls were shaken with the movement. "Since the inhabitants of yonder village have forgotten the affectionsand sympathies of their nature, it were better that the lake should berippling over their dwellings again!" The traveler looked so stern that Philemon was really almost frightened;the more so, that, at his frown, the twilight seemed suddenly to growdarker, and that, when he shook his head, there was a roll as of thunderin the air. But, in a moment afterwards, the stranger's face became so kindly andmild that the old man quite forgot his terror. Nevertheless, he couldnot help feeling that this elder traveler must be no ordinary personage, although he happened now to be attired so humbly, and to be journeyingon foot. Not that Philemon fancied him a prince in disguise, or anycharacter of that sort; but rather some exceedingly wise man, who wentabout the world in this poor garb, despising wealth and all worldlyobjects, and seeking everywhere to add a mite to his wisdom. This ideaappeared the more probable, because, when Philemon raised his eyes tothe stranger's face, he seemed to see more thought there, in one look, than he could have studied out in a lifetime. While Baucis was getting the supper, the travelers both began to talkvery sociably with Philemon. The younger, indeed, was extremelyloquacious, and made such shrewd and witty remarks, that the good oldman continually burst out a-laughing, and pronounced him the merriestfellow whom he had seen for many a day. "Pray, my young friend, " said he, as they grew familiar together, "whatmay I call your name?" "Why, I am very nimble, as you see, " answered the traveler. "So, if youcall me Quicksilver, the name will fit tolerably well. " "Quicksilver? Quicksilver!" repeated Philemon, looking in the traveler'sface, to see if he were making fun of him. "It is a very odd name! Andyour companion there? Has he as strange a one?" "You must ask the thunder to tell you it!" replied Quicksilver, puttingon a mysterious look. "No other voice is loud enough. " This remark, whether it were serious or in jest, might have causedPhilemon to conceive a very great awe of the elder stranger, if, onventuring to gaze at him, he had not beheld so much beneficence in hisvisage. But, undoubtedly, here was the grandest figure that ever sat sohumbly beside a cottage door. When the stranger conversed, it was withgravity, and in such a way that Philemon felt irresistibly moved to tellhim everything which he had most at heart. This is always the feelingthat people have, when they meet with any one wise enough to comprehendall their good and evil, and to despise not a tittle of it. But Philemon, simple and kind-hearted old man that he was, had not manysecrets to disclose. He talked, however, quite garrulously, about theevents of his past life, in the whole course of which he had never beena score of miles from this very spot. His wife Baucis and himself haddwelt in the cottage from their youth upward, earning their bread byhonest labor, always poor, but still contented. He told what excellentbutter and cheese Baucis made and how nice were the vegetables which heraised in his garden. He said, too, that, because they loved one anotherso very much, it was the wish of both that death might not separatethem, but that they should die, as they had lived, together. As the stranger listened, a smile beamed over his countenance, and madeits expression as sweet as it was grand. "You are a good old man, " said he to Philemon, "and you have a good oldwife to be your helpmeet. It is fit that your wish be granted. " And it seemed to Philemon, just then, as if the sunset clouds threw up abright flash from the west, and kindled a sudden light in the sky. Baucis had now got supper ready, and coming to the door, began to makeapologies for the poor fare which she was forced to set before herguests. "Had we known you were coming, " said she, "my good man and myself wouldhave gone without a morsel, rather than you should lack a better supper. But I took the most part of to-day's milk to make cheese; and our lastloaf is already half eaten. Ah me! I never feel the sorrow of beingpoor, save when a poor traveler knocks at our door. " "All will be very well; do not trouble yourself, my good dame, " repliedthe elder stranger, kindly. "An honest hearty welcome to a guest worksmiracles with the fare, and is capable of turning the coarsest food tonectar and ambrosia. " "A welcome you shall have, " cried Baucis, "and likewise a little honeythat we happen to have left, and a bunch of purple grapes besides. " "Why, Mother Baucis, it is a feast!" exclaimed Quicksilver, laughing, "an absolute feast! And you shall see how bravely I will play my part atit! I think I never felt hungrier in my life. " "Mercy on us!" whispered Baucis to her husband. "If the young man hassuch a terrible appetite, I am afraid there will not be half enoughsupper!" They all went into the cottage. And now, my little auditors, shall I tell you something that will makeyou open your eyes very wide? It is really one of the oddestcircumstances in the whole story. Quicksilver's staff, you recollect, had set itself up against the wall of the cottage. Well, when its masterentered the door, leaving this wonderful staff behind, what should it dobut immediately spread its little wings, and go hopping and flutteringup the doorsteps! Tap, tap, went the staff, on the kitchen floor; nordid it rest until it had stood itself on end, with the greatest gravityand decorum, beside Quicksilver's chair. Old Philemon, however, as wellas his wife, was so taken up in attending to their guests, that nonotice was given to what the staff had been about. As Baucis had said, there was but a scanty supper for two hungrytravelers. In the middle of the table was the remnant of a brown loaf, with a piece of cheese on one side of it, and a dish of honeycomb on theother. There was a pretty good bunch of grapes for each of the guests. A moderately sized earthen pitcher, nearly full of milk, stood at acorner of the board; and when Baucis had filled two bowls, and set thembefore the strangers, only a little milk remained in the bottom of thepitcher. Alas! it is a very sad business, when a bountiful heart findsitself pinched and squeezed among narrow circumstances. Poor Baucis keptwishing that she might starve for a week to come, if it were possible, by so doing, to provide these hungry folks a more plentiful supper. And, since the supper was so exceedingly small, she could not helpwishing that their appetites had not been quite so large. Why, at theirvery first sitting down, the travelers both drank off all the milk intheir two bowls, at a draught. "A little more milk, kind Mother Baucis, if you please, " saidQuicksilver. "The day has been hot, and I am very much athirst. " "Now, my dear people, " answered Baucis, in great confusion, "I am sosorry and ashamed! But the truth is, there is hardly a drop more milk inthe pitcher. O husband! husband! why didn't we go without our supper?" "Why, it appears to me, " cried Quicksilver, starting up from the tableand taking the pitcher by the handle, "it really appears to me thatmatters are not quite so bad as you represent them. Here is certainlymore milk in the pitcher. " So saying, and to the vast astonishment of Baucis, he proceeded to fill, not only his own bowl, but his companion's likewise, from the pitcher, that was supposed to be almost empty. The good woman could scarcelybelieve her eyes. She had certainly poured out nearly all the milk, andhad peeped in afterwards, and seen the bottom of the pitcher, as she setit down upon the table. "But I am old, " thought Baucis to herself, "and apt to be forgetful. Isuppose I must have made a mistake. At all events, the pitcher cannothelp being empty now, after filling the bowls twice over. " "What excellent milk!" observed Quicksilver, after quaffing the contentsof the second bowl. "Excuse me, my kind hostess, but I must really askyou for a little more. " Now Baucis had seen, as plainly as she could see anything, thatQuicksilver had turned the pitcher upside down, and consequently hadpoured out every drop of milk, in filling the last bowl. Of course, there could not possibly be any left. However, in order to let him knowprecisely how the case was, she lifted the pitcher, and made a gestureas if pouring milk into Quicksilver's bowl, but without the remotestidea that any milk would stream forth. What was her surprise, therefore, when such an abundant cascade fell bubbling into the bowl, that it wasimmediately filled to the brim, and overflowed upon the table! The twosnakes that were twisted about Quicksilver's staff (but neither Baucisnor Philemon happened to observe this circumstance) stretched out theirheads, and began to lap up the spilt milk. And then what a delicious fragrance the milk had! It seemed as ifPhilemon's only cow must have pastured, that day, on the richest herbagethat could be found anywhere in the world. I only wish that each of you, my beloved little souls, could have a bowl of such nice milk atsupper-time! "And now a slice of your brown loaf, Mother Baucis, " said Quicksilver, "and a little of that honey!" Baucis cut him a slice, accordingly; and though the loaf, when she andher husband ate of it, had been rather too dry and crusty to bepalatable, it was now as light and moist as if but a few hours out ofthe oven. Tasting a crumb, which had fallen on the table, she found itmore delicious than bread ever was before, and could hardly believe thatit was a loaf of her own kneading and baking. Yet, what other loaf couldit possibly be? But, oh, the honey! I may just as well let it alone, without trying todescribe how exquisitely it smelt and looked. Its color was that of thepurest and most transparent gold; and it had the odor of a thousandflowers; but of such flowers as never grew in an earthly garden, and toseek which the bees must have flown high above the clouds. The wonderis, that, after alighting on a flower-bed of so delicious fragrance andimmortal bloom, they should have been content to fly down again to theirhive in Philemon's garden. Never was such honey tasted, seen, or smelt. The perfume floated around the kitchen, and made it so delightful, that, had you closed your eyes, you would instantly have forgotten the lowceiling and smoky walls, and have fancied yourself in an arbor, withcelestial honeysuckles creeping over it. Although good Mother Baucis was a simple old dame, she could not butthink that there was something rather out of the common way in all thathad been going on. So, after helping the guests to bread and honey, andlaying a bunch of grapes by each of their plates, she sat down byPhilemon, and told him what she had seen, in a whisper. "Did you ever hear the like?" asked she. "No, I never did, " answered Philemon, with a smile. "And I rather think, my dear old wife, you have been walking about in a sort of a dream. If Ihad poured out the milk, I should have seen through the business atonce. There happened to be a little more in the pitcher than youthought, --that is all. " "Ah, husband, " said Baucis, "say what you will, these are very uncommonpeople. " "Well, well, " replied Philemon, still smiling, "perhaps they are. Theycertainly do look as if they had seen better days; and I am heartilyglad to see them making so comfortable a supper. " Each of the guests had now taken his bunch of grapes upon his plate. Baucis (who rubbed her eyes, in order to see the more clearly) was ofopinion that the clusters had grown larger and richer, and that eachseparate grape seemed to be on the point of bursting with ripe juice. Itwas entirely a mystery to her how such grapes could ever have beenproduced from the old stunted vine that climbed against the cottagewall. "Very admirable grapes, these!" observed Quicksilver, as he swallowedone after another, without apparently diminishing his cluster. "Pray, mygood host, whence did you gather them?" "From my own vine, " answered Philemon. "You may see one of its branchestwisting across the window, yonder. But wife and I never thought thegrapes very fine ones. " "I never tasted better, " said the guest. "Another cup of this deliciousmilk, if you please, and I shall then have supped better than aprince. " This time, old Philemon bestirred himself, and took up the pitcher; forhe was curious to discover whether there was any reality in the marvelswhich Baucis had whispered to him. He knew that his good old wife wasincapable of falsehood, and that she was seldom mistaken in what shesupposed to be true; but this was so very singular a case that he wantedto see into it with his own eyes. On taking up the pitcher, therefore, he slyly peeped into it, and was fully satisfied that it contained notso much as a single drop. All at once, however, he beheld a little whitefountain, which gushed up from the bottom of the pitcher, and speedilyfilled it to the brim with foaming and deliciously fragrant milk. It waslucky that Philemon, in his surprise, did not drop the miraculouspitcher from his hand. "Who are ye, wonder-working strangers?" cried he, even more bewilderedthan his wife had been. "Your guests, my good Philemon, and your friends, " replied the eldertraveler, in his mild, deep voice, that had something at once sweet andawe-inspiring in it. "Give me likewise a cup of the milk; and may yourpitcher never be empty for kind Baucis and yourself, any more than forthe needy wayfarer!" The supper being now over, the strangers requested to be shown to theirplace of repose. The old people would gladly have talked with them alittle longer, and have expressed the wonder which they felt, and theirdelight at finding the poor and meager supper prove so much better andmore abundant than they hoped. But the elder traveler had inspired themwith such reverence that they dared not ask him any questions. And whenPhilemon drew Quicksilver aside, and inquired how under the sun afountain of milk could have got into an old earthen pitcher, this latterpersonage pointed to his staff. "There is the whole mystery of the affair, " quoth Quicksilver; "and ifyou can make it out, I'll thank you to let me know. I can't tell what tomake of my staff. It is always playing such odd tricks as this;sometimes getting me a supper, and quite as often stealing it away. If Ihad any faith in such nonsense, I should say the stick was bewitched!" He said no more, but looked so slyly in their faces, that they ratherfancied he was laughing at them. The magic staff went hopping at hisheels, as Quicksilver quitted the room. When left alone, the good oldcouple spent some little time in conversation about the events of theevening, and then lay down on the floor, and fell fast asleep. They hadgiven up their sleeping-room to the guests, and had no other bed forthemselves, save these planks, which I wish had been as soft as theirown hearts. The old man and his wife were stirring, betimes, in the morning, and thestrangers likewise arose with the sun, and made their preparations todepart. Philemon hospitably entreated them to remain a little longer, until Baucis could milk the cow, and bake a cake upon the hearth, and, perhaps, find them a few fresh eggs, for breakfast. The guests, however, seemed to think it better to accomplish a good part of their journeybefore the heat of the day should come on. They, therefore, persisted insetting out immediately, but asked Philemon and Baucis to walk forthwith them a short distance, and show them the road which they were totake. So they all four issued from the cottage, chatting together like oldfriends. It was very remarkable, indeed, how familiar the old coupleinsensibly grew with the elder traveler, and how their good and simplespirits melted into his, even as two drops of water would melt into theillimitable ocean. And as for Quicksilver, with his keen, quick, laughing wits, he appeared to discover every little thought that butpeeped into their minds, before they suspected it themselves. Theysometimes wished, it is true, that he had not been quite soquick-witted, and also that he would fling away his staff, which lookedso mysteriously mischievous, with the snakes always writhing about it. But then, again, Quicksilver showed himself so very good-humored, thatthey would have been rejoiced to keep him in their cottage, staff, snakes, and all, every day, and the whole day long. "Ah, me! Well-a-day!" exclaimed Philemon, when they had walked a littleway from their door. "If our neighbors only knew what a blessed thing itis to show hospitality to strangers, they would tie up all their dogs, and never allow their children to fling another stone. " "It is a sin and shame for them to behave so, --that it is!" cried goodold Baucis, vehemently. "And I mean to go this very day and tell some ofthem what naughty people they are!" "I fear, " remarked Quicksilver, slyly smiling, "that you will find noneof them at home. " The elder traveler's brow, just then, assumed such a grave, stern, andawful grandeur, yet serene withal, that neither Baucis nor Philemondared to speak a word. They gazed reverently into his face, as if theyhad been gazing at the sky. "When men do not feel towards the humblest stranger as if he were abrother, " said the traveler, in tones so deep they sounded like those ofan organ, "they are unworthy to exist on earth, which was created as theabode of a great human brotherhood!" "And, by the by, my dear old people, " cried Quicksilver, with theliveliest look of fun and mischief in his eyes, "where is this samevillage that you talk about? On which side of us does it lie? Methinks Ido not see it hereabouts. " Philemon and his wife turned towards the valley, where, at sunset, onlythe day before, they had seen the meadows, the houses, the gardens, theclumps of trees, the wide, green-margined street, with children playingin it, and all the tokens of business, enjoyment, and prosperity. Butwhat was their astonishment! There was no longer any appearance of avillage! Even the fertile vale, in the hollow of which it lay, hadceased to have existence. In its stead, they beheld the broad, bluesurface of a lake, which filled the great basin of the valley from brimto brim, and reflected the surrounding hills in its bosom, with astranquil an image as if it had been there ever since the creation of theworld. For an instant, the lake remained perfectly smooth. Then, alittle breeze sprang up, and caused the water to dance, glitter, andsparkle in the early sunbeams, and to dash, with a pleasant ripplingmurmur, against the hither shore. The lake seemed so strangely familiar, that the old couple were greatlyperplexed, and felt as if they could only have been dreaming about avillage having lain there. But, the next moment, they remembered thevanished dwellings, and the faces and characters of the inhabitants, far too distinctly for a dream. The village had been there yesterday, and now was gone! "Alas!" cried these kind-hearted old people, "what has become of ourpoor neighbors!" "They exist no longer as men and women, " said the elder traveler, in hisgrand and deep voice, while a roll of thunder seemed to echo it at adistance. "There was neither use nor beauty in such a life as theirs;for they never softened or sweetened the hard lot of mortality by theexercise of kindly affections between man and man. They retained noimage of the better life in their bosoms: therefore, the lake, that wasof old, has spread itself forth again, to reflect the sky!" "And as for those foolish people, " said Quicksilver, with hismischievous smile, "they are all transformed to fishes. There needed butlittle change, for they were already a scaly set of rascals, and thecoldest-blooded beings in existence. So, kind Mother Baucis, wheneveryou or your husband have an appetite for a dish of broiled trout, he canthrow in a line, and pull out half a dozen of your old neighbors!" "Ah, " cried Baucis, shuddering, "I would not, for the world, put one ofthem on the gridiron!" "No, " added Philemon, making a wry face, "we could never relish them!" "As for you, good Philemon, " continued the elder traveler, --"and you, kind Baucis, --you, with your scanty means, have mingled so muchheartfelt hospitality with your entertainment of the homeless stranger, that the milk became an inexhaustible fount of nectar, and the brownloaf and the honey were ambrosia. Thus, the divinities have feasted, atyour board, off the same viands that supply their banquets on Olympus. You have done well, my dear old friends. Wherefore, request whateverfavor you have most at heart, and it is granted. " Philemon and Baucis looked at one another, and then, --I know not whichof the two it was who spoke, but that one uttered the desire of boththeir hearts. "Let us live together, while we live, and leave the world at the sameinstant, when we die! For we have always loved one another!" "Be it so!" replied the stranger, with majestic kindness. "Now, looktowards your cottage!" They did so. But what was their surprise on beholding a tall edifice ofwhite marble, with a wide-open portal, occupying the spot where theirhumble residence had so lately stood! "There is your home, " said the stranger, beneficently smiling on themboth. "Exercise your hospitality in yonder palace as freely as in thepoor hovel to which you welcomed us last evening. " The old folks fell on their knees to thank him; but, behold! neither henor Quicksilver was there. So Philemon and Baucis took up their residence in the marble palace, andspent their time, with vast satisfaction to themselves, in makingeverybody jolly and comfortable who happened to pass that way. Themilk-pitcher, I must not forget to say, retained its marvelous qualityof being never empty, when it was desirable to have it full. Whenever anhonest, good-humored, and free-hearted guest took a draught from thispitcher, he invariably found it the sweetest and most invigorating fluidthat ever ran down his throat. But, if a cross and disagreeablecurmudgeon happened to sip, he was pretty certain to twist his visageinto a hard knot, and pronounce it a pitcher of sour milk! Thus the old couple lived in their palace a great, great while, and grewolder and older, and very old indeed. At length, however, there came asummer morning when Philemon and Baucis failed to make their appearance, as on other mornings, with one hospitable smile overspreading both theirpleasant faces, to invite the guests of over-night to breakfast. Theguests searched everywhere, from top to bottom of the spacious palace, and all to no purpose. But, after a great deal of perplexity, theyespied, in front of the portal, two venerable trees, which nobody couldremember to have seen there the day before. Yet there they stood, withtheir roots fastened deep into the soil, and a huge breadth of foliageovershadowing the whole front of the edifice. One was an oak, and theother a linden-tree. Their boughs--it was strange and beautiful tosee--were intertwined together, and embraced one another, so that eachtree seemed to live in the other's bosom, much more than in its own. While the guests were marveling how these trees, that must have requiredat least a century to grow, could have come to be so tall and venerablein a single night, a breeze sprang up, and set their intermingled boughsastir. And then there was a deep, broad murmur in the air, as if the twomysterious trees were speaking. "I am old Philemon!" murmured the oak. "I am old Baucis!" murmured the linden-tree. But, as the breeze grew stronger, the trees both spoke atonce, --"Philemon! Baucis! Baucis! Philemon!"--as if one were both andboth were one, and talking together in the depths of their mutual heart. It was plain enough to perceive that the good old couple had renewedtheir age, and were now to spend a quiet and delightful hundred years orso, Philemon as an oak, and Baucis as a linden-tree. And oh, what ahospitable shade did they fling around them! Whenever a wayfarer pausedbeneath it, he heard a pleasant whisper of the leaves above his head, and wondered how the sound should so much resemble words like these:-- "Welcome, welcome, dear traveler, welcome!" And some kind soul, that knew what would have pleased old Baucis and oldPhilemon best, built a circular seat around both their trunks, where, for a great while afterwards, the weary, and the hungry, and the thirstyused to repose themselves, and quaff milk abundantly out of themiraculous pitcher. And I wish, for all our sakes, that we had the pitcher here now! 258 One of the very satisfactory attempts to retell the classic myths for young readers is to be found in _Gods and Heroes_ by R. E. Francillon. The stories are brought together into a "single _saga_, free from inconsistencies and contradictions. " This gives the book all the charm of a single story made of many dramatic episodes. Francillon's version of the familiar tale of Narcissus and Echo follows by permission of the publishers. (Copyright. Ginn & Co. , Boston. ) THE NARCISSUS R. E. FRANCILLON There was a very beautiful nymph named Echo, who had never, in all herlife, seen anybody handsomer than the god Pan. You have read that Panwas the chief of all the Satyrs, and what hideous monsters the Satyrswere. So, when Pan made love to her, she very naturally kept him at adistance: and, as she supposed him to be no worse-looking than the restof the world, she made up her mind to have nothing to do with love orlovemaking, and was quite content to ramble about the woods all alone. But one day, to her surprise, she happened to meet with a young man whowas as different from Pan as any creature could be. Instead of having agoat's legs and long hairy arms, he was as graceful as Apollo himself:no horns grew out of his forehead, and his ears were not long, pointed, and covered with hair, but just like Echo's own. And he was just asbeautiful in face as he was graceful in form. I doubt if Echo would havethought even Apollo himself so beautiful. The nymphs were rather shy, and Echo was the very shyest of them all. But she admired him so much she could not leave the spot, and at lastshe even plucked up courage enough to ask him, "What is the name of themost beautiful being in the whole world?" "Whom do you mean?" asked he. "Yourself? If you want to know your ownname, you can tell it better than I can. " "No, " said Echo, "I don't mean myself. I mean _you_. What is _your_name?" "My name is Narcissus, " said he. "But as for my being beautiful--that isabsurd. " "Narcissus!" repeated Echo to herself. "It is a beautiful name. Which ofthe nymphs have you come to meet here in these woods all alone? She islucky--whoever she may be. " "I have come to meet nobody, " said Narcissus. "But--am I really sobeautiful? I have often been told so by other girls, of course; butreally it is more than I can quite believe. " "And you don't care for any of those girls?" "Why, you see, " said Narcissus, "when all the girls one knows call onebeautiful, there's no reason why I should care for one more thananother. They all seem alike when they are all always saying just thesame thing. Ah! I do wish I could see myself, so that I could tell if itwas really true. I would marry the girl who could give me the wish of myheart--to see myself as other people see me. But as nobody can make medo that, why, I suppose I shall get on very well without marryinganybody at all. " Looking-glasses had not been invented in those days, so that Narcissushad really never seen even so much of himself as his chin. "What!" cried Echo, full of hope and joy; "if I make you see your ownface, you will marry _me_?" "I said so, " said he. "And of course what I say I'll do, I'll do. " "Then--come with me!" Echo took him by the hand and led him to the edge of a little lake inthe middle of the wood, full of clear water. "Kneel down, Narcissus, " said she, "and bend your eyes over thewaterside. That lake is the mirror where Diana comes every morning todress her hair, and in which, every night, the moon and the stars beholdthemselves. Look into that water, and see what manner of man you are!" Narcissus kneeled down and looked into the lake. And, better than in anycommon looking-glass, he saw the reflected image of his own face--and helooked, and looked, and could not take his eyes away. But Echo at last grew tired of waiting. "Have you forgotten what youpromised me?" asked she. "Are you content now? Do you see now that whatI told you is true?" He lifted his eyes at last. "Oh, beautiful creature that I am!" said he. "I am indeed the most divine creature in the whole wide world. I lovemyself madly. Go away. I want to be with my beautiful image, withmyself, all alone. I can't marry you. I shall never love anybody butmyself for the rest of my days. " And he kneeled down and gazed athimself once more, while poor Echo had to go weeping away. Narcissus had spoken truly. He loved himself and his own face so muchthat he could think of nothing else: he spent all his days and nights bythe lake, and never took his eyes away. But unluckily his image, whichwas only a shadow in the water, could not love him back again. And so hepined away until he died. And when his friends came to look for hisbody, they found nothing but a flower, into which his soul had turned. So they called it the Narcissus, and we call it so still. And yet Idon't know that it is a particularly conceited or selfish flower. As for poor Echo, she pined away too. She faded and faded until nothingwas left of her but her voice. There are many places where she can evennow be heard. And she still has the same trick of saying to vain andfoolish people whatever they say to themselves, or whatever they wouldlike best to hear said to them. If you go where Echo is, and call outloudly, "I am beautiful!"--she will echo your very words. 259 "The Apple of Discord" is also taken, by permission of the publishers, from Francillon's _Gods and Heroes_. It is the story of how the world's first great war was brought about. Teachers who wish to use some of the stories from Homer's _Iliad_ might well follow this story with some selected episodes from that work. The prose translation of the _Iliad_ by Lang, Leaf, and Myers is the most satisfactory. Of versions adapted for children, Church's _Story of the Iliad_ has long been a favorite. THE APPLE OF DISCORD R. E. FRANCILLON Never was such a wedding-feast known as that of Peleus and Thetis. Andno wonder; for Peleus was King of Thessaly, and Thetis was agoddess--the goddess who keeps the gates of the West, and throws themopen for the chariot of the Sun to pass through when its day's journeyis done. Not only all the neighboring kings and queens came to the feast, but thegods and goddesses besides, bringing splendid presents to the bride andbridegroom. Only one goddess was not there, because she had not beeninvited; and she had not been invited for the best of all reasons. Hername was Ate, which means Mischief; and wherever she went she causedquarreling and confusion. Jupiter had turned her out of heaven forsetting even the gods by the ears; and ever since then she had beenwandering about the earth, making mischief, for they would not have hereven in Hades. "So they won't have _Me_ at their feast!" she said to herself, when sheheard the sound of the merriment to which she had not been bidden. "Verywell; they shall be sorry. I see a way to make a bigger piece ofmischief than ever was known. " So she took a golden apple, wrote some words upon it, and, keepingherself out of sight, threw it into the very middle of the feasters, just when they were most merry. Nobody saw where the apple came from; but of course they supposed it hadbeen thrown among them for frolic; and one of the guests, taking it up, read aloud the words written on it. The words were: "FOR THE MOST BEAUTIFUL!" --nothing more. "What a handsome present somebody has sent me!" said Juno, holding outher hand for the apple. "Sent _you_?" asked Diana. "What an odd mistake, to be sure! Don't yousee it is for the most beautiful? I will thank you to hand me what is soclearly intended for _Me_. " "You seem to forget _I_ am present!" said Vesta, making a snatch at theapple. "Not at all!" said Ceres; "only I happen to be here, too. And who doubtsthat where I am there is the most beautiful?" "Except where _I_ am, " said Proserpine. "What folly is all this!" said Minerva, the wise. "Wisdom is the onlytrue beauty; and everybody knows that I am the wisest of you all. " "But it's for the _most_ beautiful!" said Venus. "The idea of its beingfor anybody but _Me_!" Then every nymph and goddess present, and even every woman, put in herclaim, until from claiming and disputing it grew to arguing andwrangling and downright quarreling: insults flew about, until themerriment grew into an angry din, the like of which had never beenheard. But as it became clear that it was impossible for everybody to bethe most beautiful, the claimants gradually settled down into threeparties--some taking the side of Venus, others of Juno, others ofMinerva. "We shall never settle it among ourselves, " said one, when all werefairly out of breath with quarreling. "Let the gods decide. " For the gods had been silent all the while; and now they looked at oneanother in dismay at such an appeal. Jupiter, in his heart, thoughtVenus the most beautiful; but how could he dare decide against eitherhis wife Juno or his daughter Minerva? Neptune hated Minerva on accountof their old quarrel; but it was awkward to choose between his daughterVenus and his sister Juno, of whose temper he, as well as Jupiter, stoodin awe. Mars was ready enough to vote for Venus; but then he was afraidof a scandal. And so with all the gods--not one was bold enough todecide on such a terrible question as the beauty of three rivalgoddesses who were ready to tear out each other's eyes. For Juno waslooking like a thundercloud, and Minerva like lightning, and Venus likea smiling but treacherous sea. "I have it, " said Jupiter at last. "Men are better judges of beauty thanthe gods are, who never see anything but its perfection. King Priam ofTroy has a son named Paris, whose judgment as a critic I would take evenbefore my own. I propose that you, Juno, and you, Minerva, and you, Venus, shall go together before Paris and submit yourselves to hisdecision, whatever it may be. " And so it was settled, for each of the three goddesses was equally surethat, whoever the judge might be, the golden apple was safe to be hers. The quarrel came to an end, and the feast ended pleasantly; but Ate, whohad been watching and listening, laughed in her sleeve. Troy, where King Priam reigned, was a great and ancient city on theshore of Asia: it was a sacred city, whose walls had been built byNeptune, and it possessed the Palladium, the image of Minerva, whichkept it from all harm. Priam--who had been the friend of Hercules--andhis wife Hecuba had many sons and daughters, all brave and noble princesand beautiful princesses; and of his sons, while the bravest and noblestwas his first-born, Hector, the handsomest and most amiable was Paris, whom Jupiter had appointed to be the judge of beauty. Paris, unlike his brothers, cared nothing for affairs of State, butlived as a shepherd upon Mount Ida with his wife Oenone, a nymph of thatmountain, in perfect happiness and peace, loved and honored by the wholecountry round, which had given him the name of "Alexander, " which means"The Helper. " One would think that if anybody was safe from the mischiefof Ate, it was he. But one day, while he was watching his flocks and thinking of Oenone, there came to him what he took for three beautiful women--the mostbeautiful he had ever seen. Yet something told him they were more thanmere women, or even than Oreads, before the tallest said-- "There is debate in Olympus which is the most beautiful of us three, andJupiter has appointed you to be the judge between us. I am Juno, thequeen of gods and men, and if you decide for me, I will make you king ofthe whole world. " "And I, " said the second, "am Minerva, and you shall know everything inthe whole universe if you decide for me. " "But I, " said the third, "am Venus, who can give neither wisdom norpower; but if you decide for me, I will give you the love of the mostbeautiful woman that ever was or ever will be born. " Paris looked from one to the other, wondering to which he should awardthe golden apple, the prize of beauty. He did not care for power; hewould be quite content to rule his sheep, and even that was not alwayseasy. Nor did he care for wisdom or knowledge: he had enough for all hisneeds. Nor ought he to have desired any love but Oenone's. But thenVenus was really the most beautiful of all the goddesses--the verygoddess of beauty; no mortal could refuse anything she asked him, sogreat was her charm. So he took the apple and placed it in the hands ofVenus without a word, while Juno and Minerva departed in a state ofwrath with Paris, Venus, and each other, which made Ate laugh to herselfmore than ever. Now the most beautiful woman in the whole world was Helen, step-daughterof King Tyndarus of Sparta, and sister of Castor and Pollux: neitherbefore her nor after her has there been any to compare with her forbeauty. Thirty-one of the noblest princes in Greece came to her father'sCourt at the same time to seek her in marriage, so that Tyndarus knewnot what to do, seeing that, whomsoever he chose for his son-in-law, hewould make thirty powerful enemies. The most famous among them wereUlysses, King of the island of Ithaca; Diomed, King of Aetolia; Ajax, King of Salamis, the bravest and strongest man in Greece; his brotherTeucer; Philoctetes, the friend of Hercules; and Menelaus, King ofSparta. At last, as there was no other way of deciding among them, anentirely new idea occurred to Ulysses--namely, that Helen should beallowed to choose her own husband herself, and that, before she chose, all the rival suitors should make a great and solemn oath to approve herchoice, and to defend her and her husband against all enemiesthenceforth and forever. This oath they all took loyally and with oneaccord, and Helen chose Menelaus, King of Sparta, who married her withgreat rejoicing, and took her away to his kingdom. And all would have gone well but for that wretched apple. For Venus wasfaithful to her promise that the most beautiful of all women should bethe wife of Paris: and so Menelaus, returning from a journey, found thata Trojan prince had visited his Court during his absence, and had goneaway, taking Helen with him to Troy. This Trojan prince was Paris, who, seeing Helen, had forgotten Oenone, and could think of nothing but herwhom Venus had given him. Then, through all Greece and all the islands, went forth the summons ofKing Menelaus, reminding the thirty princes of their great oath: andeach and all of them, and many more, came to the gathering-place withall their ships and all their men, to help Menelaus and to bring backHelen. Such a host as gathered together at Aulis had never been seensince the world began; there were nearly twelve hundred ships and morethan a hundred thousand men: it was the first time that all the Greeksjoined together in one cause. There, besides those who had come fortheir oath's sake, were Nestor, the old King of Pylos--so old that heremembered Jason and the Golden Fleece, but, at ninety years old, asready for battle as the youngest there; and Achilles, the son of Peleusand Thetis, scarcely more than a boy, but fated to outdo the deeds ofthe bravest of them all. The kings and princes elected Agamemnon, Kingof Mycenae and Argos, and brother of Menelaus, to be theirgeneral-in-chief; and he forthwith sent a herald to Troy to demand thesurrender of Helen. But King Priam was indignant that these chiefs of petty kingdoms shoulddare to threaten the sacred city of Troy: and he replied to the demandby a scornful challenge, and by sending out his summons also to hisfriends and allies. And it was as well answered as that of Menelaus hadbeen. There came to his standard Rhesus, with a great army from Thrace;and Sarpedon, the greatest king in all Asia; and Memnon, king ofAethiopia, with twenty thousand men--the hundred thousand Greeks werenot so many as the army of Priam. Then Agamemnon gave the order to sailfor Troy: and Ate laughed aloud, for her apple had brought upon mankindthe First Great War. 260 The little book of _Old Greek Folk Stories_, by Josephine P. Peabody, is especially valuable, not only for its fine versions of many of the more interesting myths, but because it supplements the dozen retold by Hawthorne in his _Wonder-Book_ and _Tanglewood Tales_. The two stories that follow are taken from that book and are used by permission of and by special arrangement with the publishers. (Copyright: Houghton Mifflin Co. , Boston. ) It is worth noticing that the idea of being able to fly through the air successfully is found in a very remote past, and that Daedalus discarded his invention because of the tragedy related below. Only a few years since, most people looked upon one who tried to work out practically the problem of flying as somewhat "short" mentally. Hence the use of such efforts for comic effect as in "Darius Green and His Flying Machine" (No. 375). ICARUS AND DAEDALUS JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY Among all those mortals who grew so wise that they learned the secretsof the gods, none was more cunning than Daedalus. He once built, for King Minos of Crete, a wonderful Labyrinth of windingways so cunningly tangled up and twisted around that, once inside, youcould never find your way out again without a magic clue. But the king'sfavor veered with the wind, and one day he had his master architectimprisoned in a tower. Daedalus managed to escape from his cell; but itseemed impossible to leave the island, since every ship that came orwent was well guarded by order of the king. At length, watching the sea gulls in the air, --the only creatures thatwere sure of liberty, --he thought of a plan for himself and his youngson Icarus, who was captive with him. Little by little, he gathered a store of feathers great and small. Hefastened these together with thread, moulded them in with wax, and sofashioned two great wings like those of a bird. When they were done, Daedalus fitted them to his own shoulders, and after one or two efforts, he found that by waving his arms he could winnow the air and cleave it, as a swimmer does the sea. He held himself aloft, wavered this way andthat with the wind, and at last, like a great fledgling, he learned tofly. Without delay, he fell to work on a pair of wings for the boy Icarus, and taught him carefully how to use them, bidding him beware of rashadventures among the stars. "Remember, " said the father, "never to flyvery low or very high, for the fogs about the earth would weigh youdown, but the blaze of the sun will surely melt your feathers apart ifyou go too near. " For Icarus, these cautions went in at one ear and out by the other. Whocould remember to be careful when he was to fly for the first time? Arebirds careful? Not they! And not an idea remained in the boy's head butthe one joy of escape. The day came, and the fair wind that was to set them free. The fatherbird put on his wings, and, while the light urged them to be gone, hewaited to see that all was well with Icarus, for the two could not flyhand in hand. Up they rose, the boy after his father. The hateful groundof Crete sank beneath them; and the country folk, who caught a glimpseof them when they were high above the tree-tops, took it for a vision ofthe gods, --Apollo, perhaps, with Cupid after him. At first there was a terror in the joy. The wide vacancy of the airdazed them, --a glance downward made their brains reel. But when a greatwind filled their wings, and Icarus felt himself sustained, like ahalcyon-bird in the hollow of a wave, like a child uplifted by hismother, he forgot everything in the world but joy. He forgot Crete andthe other islands that he had passed over: he saw but vaguely thatwinged thing in the distance before him that was his father Daedalus. Helonged for one draught of flight to quench the thirst of his captivity:he stretched out his arms to the sky and made towards the highestheavens. Alas for him! Warmer and warmer grew the air. Those arms, that hadseemed to uphold him, relaxed. His wings wavered, drooped. He flutteredhis young hands vainly, --he was falling, --and in that terror heremembered. The heat of the sun had melted the wax from his wings; thefeathers were falling, one by one, like snowflakes; and there was noneto help. He fell like a leaf tossed down the wind, down, down, with one cry thatovertook Daedalus far away. When he returned, and sought high and lowfor the poor boy, he saw nothing but the bird-like feathers afloat onthe water, and he knew that Icarus was drowned. The nearest island he named Icaria, in memory of the child; but he, inheavy grief, went to the temple of Apollo in Sicily, and there hung uphis wings as an offering. Never again did he attempt to fly. 261 This story of how Apollo, god of music and poetry, was sent to earth for a space to serve a mortal is also from _Old Greek Folk Stories_, by arrangement with the publishers. (Houghton Mifflin Co. , Boston. ) James Russell Lowell wrote a very fine poetic treatment of this same story in "The Shepherd of King Admetus" (No. 373). ADMETUS AND THE SHEPHERD JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY Apollo did not live always free of care, though he was the most gloriousof the gods. One day, in anger with the Cyclopes who work at the forgesof Vulcan, he sent his arrows after them, to the wrath of all the gods, but especially of Zeus. (For the Cyclopes always make his thunderbolts, and make them well. ) Even the divine archer could not go unpunished, andas a penalty he was sent to serve some mortal for a year. Some say oneyear and some say nine, but in those days time passed quickly; and asfor the gods, they took no heed of it. Now there was a certain king in Thessaly, Admetus by name, and therecame to him one day a stranger, who asked leave to serve about thepalace. None knew his name, but he was very comely, and moreover, whenthey questioned him he said that he had come from a position of hightrust. So without further delay they made him chief shepherd of theroyal flocks. Every day thereafter, he drove his sheep to the banks of the riverAmphrysus, and there he sat to watch them browse. The country folk thatpassed drew near to wonder at him, without daring to ask questions. Heseemed to have a knowledge of leech-craft, and knew how to cure the illsof any wayfarer with any weed that grew near by; and he would pipe forhours in the sun. A simple-spoken man he was, yet he seemed to know muchmore than he would say, and he smiled with a kindly mirth when thepeople wished him sunny weather. Indeed, as days went by, it seemed as if summer had come to stay, and, like the shepherd, found the place friendly. Nowhere else were theflocks so white and fair to see, like clouds loitering along a brightsky; and sometimes, when he chose, their keeper sang to them. Then thegrasshoppers drew near and the swans sailed close to the river banks, and the countrymen gathered about to hear wonderful tales of the slayingof the monster Python, and of a king with ass's ears, and of a lovelymaiden, Daphne, who grew into a laurel-tree. In time the rumor of thesethings drew the king himself to listen; and Admetus, who had been to seethe world in the ship Argo, knew at once that this was no earthlyshepherd, but a god. From that day, like a true king, he treated hisguest with reverence and friendliness, asking no questions; and the godwas well pleased. Now it came to pass that Admetus fell in love with a beautiful maiden, Alcestis, and, because of the strange condition that her father Peliashad laid upon all suitors, he was heavy-hearted. Only that man whoshould come to woo her in a chariot drawn by a wild boar and a lionmight ever marry Alcestis; and this task was enough to puzzle even aking. As for the shepherd, when he heard of it he rose, one fine morning, andleft the sheep and went his way, --no one knew whither. If the sun hadgone out, the people could not have been more dismayed. The king himselfwent, late in the day, to walk by the river Amphrysus, and wonder if hisgracious keeper of the flocks had deserted him in a time of need. But atthat very moment, whom should he see returning from the woods but theshepherd, glorious as sunset, and leading side by side a lion and aboar, as gentle as two sheep! The very next morning, with joy andgratitude, Admetus set out in his chariot for the kingdom of Pelias, andthere he wooed and won Alcestis, the most loving wife that was everheard of. It was well for Admetus that he came home with such a comrade, for theyear was at an end, and he was to lose his shepherd. The strange mancame to take leave of the king and queen whom he had befriended. "Blessed be your flocks, Admetus, " he said, smiling. "They shall prospereven though I leave them. And, because you can discern the gods thatcome to you in the guise of wayfarers, happiness shall never go far fromyour home, but ever return to be your guest. No man may live on earthforever, but this one gift have I obtained for you. When your last hourdraws near, if any one shall be willing to meet it in your stead, heshall die, and you shall live on, more than the mortal length of days. Such kings deserve long life. " So ended the happy year when Apollo tended sheep. 262 This version of the Midas story is taken from Bulfinch's _Age of Fable_, which is still one of the most valuable and interesting handbooks in its field. One who wishes simply good versions of the old myths without any of the apparatus of scholarship will find Bulfinch excellent. It serves well for younger or general readers who would be worried by references or interpretations. Hawthorne's version of this favorite myth may be found in his _Wonder-Book_ as "The Golden Touch. " MIDAS Bacchus, on a certain occasion, found his old schoolmaster andfoster-father, Silenus, missing. The old man had been drinking, and inthat state had wandered away, and was found by some peasants, whocarried him to their king, Midas. Midas recognized him and treated himhospitably, entertaining him for ten days and nights with an unceasinground of jollity. On the eleventh day he brought Silenus back, andrestored him in safety to his pupil. Whereupon Bacchus offered Midas hischoice of whatever reward he might wish. He asked that whatever he mighttouch should be changed into _gold_. Bacchus consented, though sorrythat he had not made a better choice. Midas went his way, rejoicing in his newly acquired power, which hehastened to put to the test. He could scarce believe his eyes when hefound that a twig of an oak, which he plucked from the branch, becamegold in his hand. He took up a stone--it changed to gold. He touched asod--it did the same. He took an apple from the tree--you would havethought he had robbed the garden of the Hesperides. His joy knew nobounds, and as soon as he got home, he ordered the servants to set asplendid repast on the table. Then he found to his dismay that whetherhe touched bread, it hardened in his hand; or put a morsel to his lips, it defied his teeth. He took a glass of wine, but it flowed down histhroat like melted gold. In consternation at the unprecedented affliction, he strove to divesthimself of his power; he hated the gift he had lately coveted. But allin vain; starvation seemed to await him. He raised his arms, all shiningwith gold, in prayer to Bacchus, begging to be delivered from hisglittering destruction. Bacchus, merciful deity, heard and consented. "Go, " said he, "to the River Pactolus, trace the stream to itsfountain-head, there plunge in your head and body and wash away yourfault and its punishment. " He did so, and scarce had he touched thewaters before the gold-creating power passed into them, and the riversands became changed into _gold_, as they remain to this day. Thenceforth Midas, hating wealth and splendor, dwelt in the country andbecame a worshipper of Pan, the god of the fields. On a certain occasionPan had the temerity to compare his music with that of Apollo, and tochallenge the god of the lyre to a trial of skill. The challenge wasaccepted; and Tmolus, the mountain-god, was chosen umpire. Tmolus tookhis seat and cleared away the trees from his ears to listen. At a givensignal Pan blew on his pipes, and with his rustic melody gave greatsatisfaction to himself and his faithful follower Midas, who happened tobe present. Then Tmolus turned his head toward the sun-god, and all histrees turned with him. Apollo rose, his brow wreathed with Parnassianlaurel, while his robe of Tyrian purple swept the ground. In his lefthand he held the lyre, and with his right hand struck the strings. Ravished with the harmony, Tmolus at once awarded the victory to the godof the lyre, and all but Midas acquiesced in the judgment. He dissented, and questioned the justice of the award. Apollo would not suffer such adepraved pair of ears any longer to wear the human form, but caused themto increase in length, grow hairy within and without, and to becomemovable on their roots; in short, to be on the perfect pattern of thoseof an ass. Mortified enough was King Midas at this mishap; but he consoled himselfwith the thought that it was possible to hide his misfortune, which heattempted to do by means of an ample turban or headdress. But hishairdresser of course knew the secret. He was charged not to mention it, and threatened with dire punishment if he presumed to disobey. But hefound it too much for his discretion to keep such a secret; so he wentout into the meadow, dug a hole in the ground, and stooping down, whispered the story, and covered it up. Before long a thick bed of reedssprang up in the meadow, and as soon as it had gained its growth, beganwhispering the story, and has continued to do so, from that day to this, with every breeze which passes over the place. 263 The story of Phaëthon is taken by permission from Gayley's _Classic Myths in English Literature and Art_. (Copyright. Ginn & Co. , Boston. ) Gayley is by all odds the one handbook for the whole field of mythology that teachers should always have access to. Based upon the older Bulfinch, it brings the whole subject up to date and reflects all the results of later scholarship on the matters of origins and interpretations. Its bibliographies and extended commentaries make it invaluable. The story of Phaëthon is usually thought of as a warning against presumption, conceit, whim, self-will. It was probably invented in the first place to account for the extremely hot weather of the summer months. PHAËTHON CHARLES MILLS GAYLEY Phaëthon was the son of Apollo and the nymph Clymene. One day Epaphus, the son of Jupiter and Io, scoffed at the idea of Phaëthon's being theson of a god. Phaëthon complained of the insult to his mother Clymene. She sent him to Phoebus to ask for himself whether he had not been trulyinformed concerning his parentage. Gladly Phaëthon traveled toward theregions of sunrise and gained at last the palace of the sun. Heapproached his father's presence, but stopped at a distance, for thelight was more than he could bear. Phoebus Apollo, arrayed in purple, sat on a throne that glittered withdiamonds. Beside him stood the Day, the Month, the Year, the Hours, andthe Seasons. Surrounded by these attendants, the Sun beheld the youthdazzled with the novelty and splendor of the scene, and inquired thepurpose of his errand. The youth replied, "Oh, light of the boundlessworld, Phoebus, my father--if thou dost yield me that name--give me someproof, I beseech thee, by which I may be known as thine!" He ceased. His father, laying aside the beams that shone around hishead, bade him approach, embraced him, owned him for his son, and sworeby the river Styx that whatever proof he might ask should be granted. Phaëthon immediately asked to be permitted for one day to drive thechariot of the sun. The father repented of his promise and tried todissuade the boy by telling him the perils of the undertaking. "None butmyself, " he said, "may drive the flaming car of day. Not even Jupiter, whose terrible right arm hurls the thunderbolts. The first part of theway is steep and such as the horses when fresh in the morning can hardlyclimb; the middle is high up in the heavens, whence I myself canscarcely, without alarm, look down and behold the earth and seastretched beneath me. The last part of the road descends rapidly andrequires most careful driving. Tethys, who is waiting to receive me, often trembles for me lest I should fall headlong. Add to this that theheaven is all the time turning round and carrying the stars with it. Couldst thou keep thy course while the sphere revolved beneath thee? Theroad, also, is through the midst of frightful monsters. Thou must passby the horns of the Bull, in front of the Archer, and near the Lion'sjaws, and where the Scorpion stretches its arms in one direction and theCrab in another. Nor wilt thou find it easy to guide those horses, withtheir breasts full of fire that they breathe forth from their mouths andnostrils. Beware, my son, lest I be the donor of a fatal gift; recallthe request while yet thou canst. " He ended; but the youth rejectedadmonition and held to his demand. So, having resisted as long as hemight, Phoebus at last led the way to where stood the lofty chariot. It was of gold, the gift of Vulcan, --the axle of gold, the pole andwheels of gold, the spokes of silver. Along the seat were rows ofchrysolites and diamonds, reflecting the brightness of the sun. Whilethe daring youth gazed in admiration, the early Dawn threw open thepurple doors of the east and showed the pathway strewn with roses. Thestars withdrew, marshaled by the Daystar, which last of all retiredalso. The father, when he saw the earth beginning to glow and the Moonpreparing to retire, ordered the Hours to harness up the horses. Theyled forth from the lofty stalls the steeds full fed with ambrosia, andattached the reins. Then the father, smearing the face of his son with apowerful unguent, made him capable of enduring the brightness of theflame. He set the rays on the lad's head, and, with a foreboding sigh, told him to spare the whip and hold tight the reins; not to take thestraight road between the five circles, but to turn off to the left; tokeep within the limit of the middle zone and avoid the northern and thesouthern alike; finally, to keep in the well-worn ruts and to driveneither too high nor too low, for the middle course was safest and best. Forthwith the agile youth sprang into the chariot, stood erect, andgrasped the reins with delight, pouring out thanks to his reluctantparent. But the steeds soon perceived that the load they drew waslighter than usual; and as a ship without its accustomed weight, wasdashed about as if empty. The horses rushed headlong and left thetraveled road. Then, for the first time, the Great and Little Bears werescorched with heat, and would fain, if it were possible, have plungedinto the water; and the Serpent which lies coiled round the north pole, torpid and harmless, grew warm, and with warmth felt its rage revive. Boötes, they say, fled away, though encumbered with his plow and unusedto rapid motion. When hapless Phaëthon looked down upon the earth, now spreading in vastextent beneath him, he grew pale, and his knees shook with terror. Helost his self-command and knew not whether to draw tight the reins orthrow them loose; he forgot the names of the horses. But when he beheldthe monstrous forms scattered over the surface of heaven, --the Scorpionextending two great arms, his tail, and his crooked claws over the spaceof two signs of the zodiac, --when the boy beheld him, reeking withpoison and menacing with fangs, his courage failed, and the reins fellfrom his hands. The horses, unrestrained, went off into unknown regionsof the sky in among the stars, hurling the chariot over pathless places, now up in high heaven, now down almost to the earth. The moon saw withastonishment her brother's chariot running beneath her own. The cloudsbegan to smoke. The forest-clad mountains burned, --Athos and Taurus andTmolus and Oete; Ida, once celebrated for fountains; the Muses' mountainHelicon, and Haemus; Aetna, with fires within and without, andParnassus, with his two peaks, and Rhodope, forced at last to part withhis snowy crown. Her cold climate was no protection to Scythia; Caucasusburned, and Ossa and Pindus, and, greater than both, Olympus, --the Alpshigh in air, and the Apennines crowned with clouds. Phaëthon beheld the world on fire and felt the heat intolerable. Then, too, it is said, the people of Aethiopia became black because the bloodwas called by the heat so suddenly to the surface; and the Libyan desertwas dried up to the condition in which it remains to this day. TheNymphs of the fountains, with disheveled hair, mourned their waters, norwere the rivers safe beneath their banks; Tanaïs smoked, and Caïcus, Xanthus, and Maeander; Babylonian Euphrates and Ganges, Tagus, withgolden sands, and Caÿster, where the swans resort. Nile fled away andhid his head in the desert, and there it still remains concealed. Wherehe used to discharge his waters through seven mouths into the sea, sevendry channels alone remained. The earth cracked open and through thechinks light broke into Tartarus and frightened the king of shadows andhis queen. The sea shrank up. Even Nereus and his wife Doris with theNereïds, their daughters, sought the deepest caves for refuge. ThriceNeptune essayed to raise his head above the surface and thrice wasdriven back by the heat. Earth, surrounded as she was by waters, yetwith head and shoulders bare, screening her face with her hand, lookedup to heaven, and with husky voice prayed Jupiter, if it were his willthat she should perish by fire, to end her agony at once by histhunderbolts, or else to consider his own Heaven, how both the poleswere smoking that sustained his palace, and that all must fall if theywere destroyed. Earth, overcome with heat and thirst, could say no more. Then Jupiter, calling the gods to witness that all was lost unless some speedy remedywere applied, thundered, brandished a lightning bolt in his right hand, launched it against the charioteer, and struck him at the same momentfrom his seat and from existence. Phaëthon, with his hair on fire, fellheadlong, like a shooting star which marks the heavens with itsbrightness as it falls, and Eridanus, the great river, received him andcooled his burning frame. His sisters, the Heliades, as they lamentedhis fate, were turned into poplar trees on the banks of the river; andtheir tears, which continued to flow, became amber as they dropped intothe stream. The Italian Naiads reared a tomb for him and inscribedthese words upon the stone: Driver of Phoebus' chariot, Phaëthon, Struck by Jove's thunder, rests beneath this stone. He could not rule his father's car of fire, Yet was it much so nobly to aspire. * * * * * The Norse myths originated among peoples who lived in the country whichis now Norway, Sweden, Denmark, and Iceland. In these lands of theNorth, winter is long and dark, and the intense cold is not easilyendured; but summer brings sunshine, warmth, and happiness. It is notstrange, therefore, that the evil spirits of Norse mythology should berepresented as huge frost giants and mountain giants. These giants, orJotuns, were first formed from the mist that came from fields of ice. They lived in a dreary country called Jötunheim, and were enemies of thegods, who lived in the bright, beautiful city of Asgard. To live the life of the old Norse folk required strength and courage, for the little boats in which they went to fish were too small forstorm-tossed Arctic seas, and the weapons with which they hunted in thecold, lonely forests were primitive. It is but natural, therefore, thatthey should have idealized strength and courage and that they shouldhave represented the gods of Asgard as being large, strong, andcourageous. Although Thor, the eldest son of Odin, was small incomparison with the giants, we are told in one of the myths that he wasa mile in height; also he had great strength and a wonderful hammer, called Mjolmer, with which he always defeated the giants and kept themfrom Asgard. Thunder was caused by the stroke of Thor's hammer; henceThor was called the Thunderer. The spiritual ideals in Norse mythology are more important than thephysical ideals. The long, cold winter nights kept the Norse folk athome; hence they had a love for home and family relations and a respectfor women that may not be found revealed in the mythology of Greece. Wisdom and judgment, too, were more essential than craft and fraud inencountering the hardships of their life; therefore they representedOdin, the supreme god of Asgard, as being the god of wisdom. The gods ofGreek mythology often used craft and fraud to accomplish their purposes, but only Loke among the inhabitants of Asgard relied upon deception. Loke was descended from the giants, but was also related to the gods; sohe was permitted to live in Asgard. It is significant of the spirit ofthe Norse folk that the gods did not trust Loke and came to regard himas their enemy; and it was he who finally brought misfortune to thegods. 264 This story of Thor's visit to the land of the giants is taken from Bulfinch. It deals with one of the favorite sections of Norse mythology, satisfying, as it does, the listeners' demand for courageous struggle against great and mysterious forces. The use of illusion by the giant forces of evil as a method of defeating the open-minded forces of truth is strikingly exemplified in the various contests staged at Jötunheim. THOR'S VISIT TO JÖTUNHEIM One day the god Thor, with his servant Thialfi, and accompanied by Loki, set out on a journey to the giants' country. Thialfi was of all men theswiftest of foot. He bore Thor's wallet, containing their provisions. When night came on they found themselves in an immense forest, andsearched on all sides for a place where they might pass the night, andat last came to a very large hall, with an entrance that took the wholebreadth of one end of the building. Here they lay down to sleep, buttowards midnight were alarmed by an earthquake which shook the wholeedifice. Thor, rising up, called on his companions to seek with him aplace of safety. On the right they found an adjoining chamber, intowhich the others entered, but Thor remained at the doorway with hismallet in his hand, prepared to defend himself, whatever might happen. Aterrible groaning was heard during the night, and at dawn of day Thorwent out and found lying near him a huge giant, who slept and snored inthe way that had alarmed them so. It is said that for once Thor wasafraid to use his mallet, and as the giant soon waked up, Thor contentedhimself with simply asking his name. "My name is Skrymir, " said the giant, "but I need not ask thy name, forI know that thou art the god Thor. But what has become of my glove?"Thor then perceived that what they had taken overnight for a hall wasthe giant's glove, and the chamber where his two companions had soughtrefuge was the thumb. Skrymir then proposed that they should travel incompany, and Thor consenting, they sat down to eat their breakfast, andwhen they had done, Skrymir packed all the provisions into one wallet, threw it over his shoulder, and strode on before them, taking suchtremendous strides that they were hard put to it to keep up with him. Sothey traveled the whole day, and at dusk Skrymir chose a place for themto pass the night in under a large oak tree. Skrymir then told them hewould lie down to sleep. "But take ye the wallet, " he added, "andprepare your supper. " Skrymir soon fell asleep and began to snore strongly; but when Thortried to open the wallet, he found the giant had tied it up so tight hecould not untie a single knot. At last Thor became wroth, and graspinghis mallet with both hands he struck a furious blow on the giant's head. Skrymir, awakening, merely asked whether a leaf had not fallen on hishead, and whether they had supped and were ready to go to sleep. Thoranswered that they were just going to sleep, and so saying went and laidhimself down under another tree. But sleep came not that night to Thor, and when Skrymir snored again so loud that the forest reëchoed with thenoise, he arose, and grasping his mallet launched it with such force atthe giant's skull that it made a deep dint in it. Skrymir, awakening, cried out, "What's the matter? Are there any birds perched on this tree?I felt some moss from the branches fall on my head. How fares it withthee Thor?" But Thor went away hastily, saying that he had just thenawoke, and that as it was only midnight, there was still time for sleep. He, however, resolved that if he had an opportunity of striking a thirdblow, it should settle all matters between them. A little before daybreak he perceived that Skrymir was again fastasleep, and again grasping his mallet, he dashed it with such violencethat it forced its way into the giant's skull up to the handle. ButSkrymir sat up, and stroking his cheek said, "An acorn fell on my head. What! Art thou awake, Thor? Methinks it is time for us to get up anddress ourselves; but you have not now a long way before you to the citycalled Utgard. I have heard you whispering to one another that I am nota man of small dimensions; but if you come to Utgard you will see theremany men much taller than I. Wherefore, I advise you, when you comethere, not to make too much of yourselves, for the followers ofUtgard-Loki will not brook the boasting of such little fellows as youare. You must take the road that leads eastward, mine lies northward, sowe must part here. " Hereupon he threw his wallet over his shoulders and turned away fromthem into the forest, and Thor had no wish to stop him or to ask for anymore of his company. Thor and his companions proceeded on their way, and towards noondescried a city standing in the middle of a plain. It was so lofty thatthey were obliged to bend their necks quite back on their shoulders inorder to see to the top of it. On arriving they entered the city, andseeing a large palace before them with the door wide open, they went in, and found a number of men of prodigious stature, sitting on benches inthe hall. Going further, they came before the king, Utgard-Loki, whomthey saluted with great respect. The king, regarding them with ascornful smile, said, "If I do not mistake me, that stripling yondermust be the god Thor. " Then addressing himself to Thor, he said, "Perhaps thou mayst be more than thou appearest to be. What are thefeats that thou and thy fellows deem yourselves skilled in, for no oneis permitted to remain here who does not, in some feat or other, excelall other men?" "The feat that I know, " said Loki, "is to eat quicker than any one else, and in this I am ready to give a proof against any one here who maychoose to compete with me. " "That will indeed be a feat, " said Utgard-Loki, "if thou performest whatthou promisest, and it shall be tried forthwith. " He then ordered one of his men who was sitting at the farther end of thebench, and whose name was Logi, to come forward and try his skill withLoki. A trough filled with meat having been set on the hall floor, Lokiplaced himself at one end, and Logi at the other, and each of them beganto eat as fast as he could, until they met in the middle of the trough. But it was found that Loki had only eaten the flesh, while his adversaryhad devoured both flesh and bone, and the trough to boot. All thecompany therefore adjudged that Loki was vanquished. Utgard-Loki then asked what feat the young man who accompanied Thorcould perform. Thialfi answered that he would run a race with any onewho might be matched against him. The king observed that skill inrunning was something to boast of, but if the youth would win the matchhe must display great agility. He then arose and went with all who werepresent to a plain where there was good ground for running on, andcalling a young man named Hugi, bade him run a match with Thialfi. Inthe first course Hugi so much outstripped his competitor that he turnedback and met him not far from the starting place. Then they ran a secondand a third time, but Thialfi met with no better success. Utgard-Loki then asked Thor in what feats he would choose to give proofsof that prowess for which he was so famous. Thor answered that he wouldtry a drinking-match with any one. Utgard-Loki bade his cup-bearer bringthe large horn which his followers were obliged to empty when they hadtrespassed in any way against the law of the feast. The cup-bearerhaving presented it to Thor, Utgard-Loki said, "Whoever is a gooddrinker will empty that horn at a single draught, though most men maketwo of it, but the most puny drinker can do it in three. " Thor looked at the horn, which seemed of no extraordinary size thoughsomewhat long; however, as he was very thirsty, he set it to his lips, and without drawing breath, pulled as long and as deeply as he could, that he might not be obliged to make a second draught of it; but when heset the horn down and looked in, he could scarcely perceive that theliquor was diminished. After taking breath, Thor went to it again with all his might, but whenhe took the horn from his mouth, it seemed to him that he had drunkrather less than before, although the horn could now be carried withoutspilling. "How now, Thor?" said Utgard-Loki; "thou must not spare thyself. If thoumeanest to drain the horn at the third draught thou must pull deeply;and I must needs say that thou wilt not be called so mighty a man hereas thou art at home if thou showest no greater prowess in other featsthan methinks will be shown in this. " Thor, full of wrath, again set the horn to his lips and did his best toempty it; but on looking in found the liquor was only a little lower, sohe resolved to make no further attempt, but gave back the horn to thecup-bearer. "I now see plainly, " said Utgard-Loki, "that thou art not quite so stoutas we thought thee; but wilt thou try any other feat, though methinksthou art not likely to bear any prize away with thee hence?" "What new trial hast thou to propose?" said Thor. "We have a very trifling game here, " answered Utgard-Loki, "in which weexercise none but children. It consists in merely lifting my cat fromthe ground; nor should I have dared to mention such a feat to the greatThor if I had not already observed that thou art by no means what wetook thee for. " As he finished speaking, a large gray cat sprang on the hall floor. Thorput his hand under the cat's belly and did his utmost to raise him fromthe floor, but the cat, bending his back, had, notwithstanding allThor's efforts, only one of his feet lifted up, seeing which Thor madeno further attempt. "This trial has turned out, " said Utgard-Loki, "just as I imagined itwould. The cat is large, but Thor is little in comparison to our men. " "Little as ye call me, " answered Thor, "let me see who among you willcome hither now I am in wrath and wrestle with me. " "I see no one here, " said Utgard-Loki, looking at the men sitting on thebenches, "who would not think it beneath him to wrestle with thee; letsomebody, however, call hither that old crone, my nurse Elli, and letThor wrestle with her if he will. She has thrown to the ground many aman not less strong than this Thor is. " A toothless old woman then entered the hall, and was told by Utgard-Lokito take hold of Thor. The tale is shortly told. The more Thor tightenedhis hold on the crone the firmer she stood. At length after a veryviolent struggle Thor began to lose his footing, and was finally broughtdown upon one knee. Utgard-Loki then told them to desist, adding thatThor had now no occasion to ask any one else in the hall to wrestle withhim, and it was also getting late; so he showed Thor and his companionsto their seats, and they passed the night there in good cheer. The next morning, at break of day, Thor and his companions dressedthemselves and prepared for their departure. Utgard-Loki ordered a tableto be set for them, on which there was no lack of victuals or drink. After the repast Utgard-Loki led them to the gate of the city, and onparting asked Thor how he thought his journey had turned out, andwhether he had met with any men stronger than himself. Thor told himthat he could not deny but that he had brought great shame on himself. "And what grieves me most, " he added, "is that ye will call me a personof little worth. " "Nay, " said Utgard-Loki, "it behooves me to tell thee the truth, nowthou art out of the city, which so long as I live and have my way thoushalt never enter again. And, by my troth, had I known beforehand thatthou hadst so much strength in thee, and wouldst have brought me so nearto a great mishap, I would not have suffered thee to enter this time. Know then that I have all along deceived thee by my illusions; first inthe forest, where I tied up the wallet with iron wire so that thoucouldst not untie it. After this thou gavest me three blows with thymallet; the first, though the least, would have ended my days had itfallen on me, but I slipped aside and thy blows fell on the mountain, where thou wilt find three glens, one of them remarkably deep. These arethe dints made by thy mallet. I have made use of similar illusions inthe contests you have had with my followers. In the first, Loki, likehunger itself, devoured all that was set before him, but Logi was inreality nothing else than Fire, and therefore consumed not only themeat, but the trough which held it. Hugi, with whom Thialfi contended inrunning, was Thought, and it was impossible for Thialfi to keep pacewith that. When thou in thy turn didst attempt to empty the horn, thoudidst perform, by my troth, a deed so marvelous that had I not seen itmyself I should never have believed it. For one end of that horn reachedthe sea, which thou wast not aware of, but when thou comest to the shorethou wilt perceive how much the sea has sunk by thy draughts. Thou didstperform a feat no less wonderful by lifting up the cat, and to tell theethe truth, when we saw that one of his paws was off the floor, we wereall of us terror-stricken, for what thou tookest for a cat was inreality the Midgard serpent that encompasseth the earth, and he was sostretched by thee that he was barely long enough to enclose it betweenhis head and tail. Thy wrestling with Elli was also a most astonishingfeat, for there was never yet a man, nor ever will be, whom Old Age, forsuch in fact was Elli, will not sooner or later lay low. But now, as weare going to part, let me tell thee that it will be better for both ofus if thou never come near me again, for shouldst thou do so, I shallagain defend myself by other illusions, so that thou wilt only lose thylabor and get no fame from the contest with me. " On hearing these words Thor in a rage laid hold of his mallet and wouldhave launched it at him, but Utgard-Loki had disappeared, and when Thorwould have returned to the city to destroy it, he found nothing aroundhim but a verdant plain. 265 One of the very best sources for the stories of Norse mythology is the little book called _Norse Stories_, by Hamilton Wright Mabie (1846-1916). (Edited by Katherine Lee Bates, and published by Rand McNally & Co. , Chicago. Copyright, and used here by permission. ) It reads well as a connected story and the versions follow closely the originals as found in the ancient Eddas. In his introduction Mr. Mabie comments upon those who made these stories, in language that suggests something of the value of the stories to us: "They thought of life as a tremendous fight, and they wanted to acquit themselves like men; enduring hardship without repining, doing hard work honestly and with a whole heart, and dying with their faces toward their foes. Their heaven was a place for heroes, and their gods were men of heroic size and spirit. " Of the subject of the following myth it has been said, "Odin had no less than two hundred names, as, Father of the Ages, Father of Hosts, Father of Victory, the High One, the Swift One, the Wanderer, Long-Beard, Burning-Eye, Slouchy-Hat. Odin is a one-eyed god, because the sky has but one sun. His raiment is sometimes blue and sometimes gray, as the weather is fair or cloudy. " ODIN'S SEARCH FOR WISDOM HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE The wonderful ash-tree, Ygdrasil, made a far-spreading shade against thefierce heat of the sun in summer, and a stronghold against the piercingwinds of winter. No man could remember when it had been young. Littlechildren played under its branches, grew to be strong men and women, lived to be old and weary and feeble, and died; and yet the ash-treegave no signs of decay. Forever preserving its freshness and beauty, itwas to live as long as there were men to look upon it, animals to feedunder it, birds to flutter among its branches. This mighty ash-tree touched and bound all the worlds together in itswonderful circle of life. One root it sent deep down into the sightlessdepths of Hel, where the dead lived; another it fastened firmly inJötunheim, the dreary home of the giants; and with the third it graspedMidgard, the dwelling place of men. Serpents and all kinds of wormsgnawed continually at its roots, but were never able to destroy them. Its branches spread out over the whole earth, and the topmost boughsswayed in the clear air of Asgard itself, rustling against the Valhal, the home of the heroes who had done great deeds or died manfully inbattle. At the foot of the tree sat the three Norns, wonderful spinnersof fate, who weave the thread of every man's life, making it what theywill; and a strange weaving it often was, cut off when the pattern wasjust beginning to show itself. And every day these Norns sprinkled thetree with the water of life from the Urdar fountain, and so kept itforever green. In the topmost branches sat an eagle singing a strangesong about the birth of the world, its decay and death. Under itsbranches browsed all manner of animals; among its leaves every kind ofbird made its nest; by day the rainbow hung under it; at night the palenorthern light flashed over it, and as the winds swept through itsrustling branches, the multitudinous murmur of the leaves told strangestories of the past and of the future. The giants were older than the gods, and knew so much more of the pastthat the gods had to go to them for wisdom. After a time, however, thegods became wiser than the giants, or they would have ceased to be gods, and been destroyed by the giants, instead of destroying them. When theworld was still young, and there were still many things which even thegods had to learn, Odin was so anxious to become wise that he went to adeep well whose waters touched the roots of Ygdrasil itself. The keeperof the well was a very old and very wise giant, named Mimer, or Memory, and he gave no draughts out of the well until he was well paid; for thewell contained the water of wisdom, and whoever drank of it becamestraightway wonderfully wise. "Give me a draught of this clear water, O Mimer, " said Odin, when he hadreached the well, and was looking down into its clear, fathomlessdepths. Mimer, the keeper, was so old that he could remember everything that hadever happened. His eyes were clear and calm as the stars, his face wasnoble and restful, and his long white beard flowed down to his waist. "This water is only to be had at a great price, " he said in awonderfully sweet, majestic tone. "I cannot give to all who ask, butonly to those who are able and willing to give greatly in return, " hecontinued. If Odin had been less of a god he would have thought longer andbargained sharper, but he was so godlike that he cared more to be wiseand great than for anything else. "I will give you whatever you ask, " he answered. Mimer thought a moment. "You must leave an eye, " he said at last. Then he drew up a great draught of the sparkling water, and Odinquenched his divine thirst and went away rejoicing, although he had leftan eye behind. Even the gods could not be wise without struggle and toiland sacrifice. So Odin became the wisest in all the worlds, and there was no god orgiant that could contend with him. There was one giant, however, who wascalled all-wise in Jötunheim, with whom many had contended in knowledge, with curious and difficult questions, and had always been silenced andkilled, for then, as now, a man's life often depended on his wisdom. Ofthis giant, Vafthrudner, and his wisdom many wonderful stories weretold, and even among the gods his fame was great. One day as Odin satthinking of many strange things in the worlds, and many mysteriousthings in the future, he thought of Vafthrudner. "I will go to Jötunheimand measure wisdom with Vafthrudner, the wisest of the giants, " said heto Frigg, his wife, who was sitting by. Then Frigg remembered those who had gone to contend with the all-wisegiant and had never come back, and a fear came over her that the samefate might befall Odin. "You are wisest in all the worlds, All-Father, " she said; "why shouldyou seek a treacherous giant who knows not half so much as you?" But Odin, who feared nothing, could not be persuaded to stay, and Friggsadly said good-by as he passed out of Asgard on his journey toJötunheim. His blue mantle set with stars and his golden helmet he leftbehind him, and as he journeyed swiftly those who met him saw nothinggodlike in him; nor did Vafthrudner when at last he stood at the giant'sdoor. "I am a simple traveler, Gangraad by name, " he said, as Vafthrudner camegruffly toward him. "I ask your hospitality and a chance to strive withyou in wisdom. " The giant laughed scornfully at the thought of a mancoming to contend with him for mastery in knowledge. "You shall have all you want of both, " he growled, "and if you cannotanswer my questions you shall never go hence alive. " He did not even ask Odin to sit down, but let him stand in the hall, despising him too much to show him any courtesy. After a time he beganto ask questions. "Tell me, if you can, O wise Gangraad, the name of the river whichdivides Asgard from Jötunheim. " "The river Ifing, which never freezes over, " answered Odin quickly, asif it were the easiest question in the world; and indeed it was to him, although no man could have answered it. Vafthrudner looked up in greatsurprise when he heard the reply. "Good, " he said, "you have answered rightly. Tell me, now, the names ofthe horses that carry day and night across the sky. " Before the words were fairly spoken Odin replied, "Skinfaxe andHrimfaxe. " The giant could not conceal his surprise that a man shouldknow these things. "Once more, " he said quickly, as if he were risking everything on onequestion; "tell me the name of the plain where the Last Battle will befought. " This was a terrible question, for the Last Battle was still far off inthe future, and only the gods and the greatest of the giants knew whereand when it would come. Odin bowed his head when he heard the words, forto be ready for that battle was the divine work of his life, and thensaid, slowly and solemnly, "On the plain of Vigrid, which is one hundredmiles on each side. " Vafthrudner rose trembling from his seat. He knew now that Gangraad wassome great one in disguise, and that his own life hung on the answers hehimself would soon be forced to make. "Sit here beside me, " he said, "for whoever you are, worthier antagonisthas never entered these walls. " Then they sat down together in the rude stone hall, the mightiest of thegods and the wisest of the giants, and the great contest in wisdom, witha life hanging in either scale, went on between them. Wonderful secretsof the time when no man was and the time when no man will be, thosesilent walls listened to as Vafthrudner asked Odin one deep questionafter another, the answer coming swiftly and surely. After a time the giant could ask no more, for he had exhausted hiswisdom. "It is my turn now, " said Odin, and one after another he drew out fromVafthrudner the events of the past and then the wonderful things of therace of giants, and finally he began to question him of that dim, mysterious future whose secrets only the gods know; and as he touchedthese wonderful things Odin's eyes began to flash, and his form to growlarger and nobler until he seemed no longer the humble Gangraad, but themighty god he was, and Vafthrudner trembled as he felt the coming doomnearing him with every question. So hours went by, until at last Odin paused in his swift questioning, stooped down, and asked the giant, "What did Odin whisper in the ear ofBalder as he ascended the funeral pile?" Only Odin himself could answer this question, and Vafthrudner repliedhumbly and with awe, "Who but thyself, All-Father, knoweth the wordsthou didst say to thy son in the days of old? I have brought my doomupon myself, for in my ignorance I have contended with wisdom itself. Thou art ever the wisest of all. " So Odin conquered, and Wisdom was victorious, as she always has beeneven when she has contended with giants. 266 The story of the splendid courage of Tyr at the time of the chaining up of the terrible Fenris wolf has always been one of the favorite Norse tales. The three repulsive giant monsters in whom the forces of evil are embodied are well imagined to suggest to us powers that may finally be stronger than the gods themselves. The failures to find a chain strong enough, and the final success with the magic bond made in Dwarfland, form a series of powerfully dramatic steps in the story. The elements of which the slender rope is made never fail to fascinate hearers, young or old, with a sense of the most profound mystery. "Why the dwarfs should be able to make a chain strong enough to bind him, which the gods had failed to do, is a puzzle. May it mean that subtlety can compass ends which force has to relinquish, or possibly a better thing than subtlety, gentleness?" And the final need of a hero willing to take extreme risks for some good greater than himself is amply and admirably satisfied in the brave Tyr. The version of the story used here is from Miss E. M. Wilmot-Buxton's _Stories of Norse Heroes_. HOW THE FENRIS WOLF WAS CHAINED E. M. WILMOT-BUXTON Fair as were the meads of Asgard, we have seen that the Asa folk werefond of wandering far afield in other regions. Most restless of all wasRed Loki, that cunning fellow who was always bringing trouble uponhimself or upon his kindred. And because he loved evil, he would oftenbetake himself to the gloomy halls of Giantland and mingle with thewicked folk of that region. Now one day he met a hideous giantess named Angur-Boda. This creaturehad a heart of ice, and because he loved ugliness and evil she had agreat attraction for him, and in the end he married her, and they livedtogether in a horrible cave in Giantland. Three children were born to Loki and Angur-Boda in this dread abode, andthey were even more terrible in appearance than their mother. The firstwas an immense wolf called Fenris, with a huge mouth filled with longwhite teeth, which he was constantly gnashing together. The second was awicked-looking serpent with a fiery-red tongue lolling from its mouth. The third was a hideous giantess, partly blue and partly flesh color, whose name was Hela. No sooner were these three terrible children born than all the wise menof the earth began to foretell the misery they would bring upon the Asafolk. In vain did Loki try to keep them hidden within the cave wherein theirmother dwelt. They soon grew so immense in size that no dwelling wouldcontain them, and all the world began to talk of their frightfulappearance. It was not long, of course, before All-Father Odin, from his high seatin Asgard, heard of the children of Loki. So he sent for some of theAsas, and said: "Much evil will come upon us, O my children, from thisgiant brood, if we defend not ourselves against them. For their motherwill teach them wickedness, and still more quickly will they learn thecunning wiles of their father. Fetch me them here, therefore, that I maydeal with them forthwith. " So, after somewhat of a struggle, the Asas captured the threegiant-children and brought them before Odin's judgment seat. Then Odin looked first at Hela, and when he saw her gloomy eyes, full ofmisery and despair, he was sorry, and dealt kindly with her, saying:"Thou art the bringer of Pain to man, and Asgard is no place for such asthou. But I will make thee ruler of the Mist Home, and there shalt thourule over that unlighted world, the Region of the Dead. " Forthwith he sent her away over rough roads to the cold, dark region ofthe North called the Mist Home. And there did Hela rule over a grimcrew, for all those who had done wickedness in the world above wereimprisoned by her in those gloomy regions. To her came also all thosewho had died, not on the battlefield, but of old age or disease. Andthough these were treated kindly enough, theirs was a joyless life incomparison with that of the dead warriors who were feasting and fightingin the halls of Valhalla, under the kindly rule of All-Father Odin. Having thus disposed of Hela, Odin next turned his attention to theserpent. And when he saw his evil tongue and cunning, wicked eyes, hesaid: "Thou art he who bringest Sin into the world of men; therefore theocean shall be thy home forever. " Then he threw that horrid serpent into the deep sea which surrounds alllands, and there the creature grew so fast that when he stretchedhimself one day he encircled all the earth, and held his own tail fastin his mouth. And sometimes he grew angry to think that he, the son of agod, had thus been cast out; and at those times he would writhe with hishuge body and lash his tail till the sea spouted up to the sky. And whenthat happened the men of the North said that a great tempest was raging. But it was only the serpent-son of Loki writhing in his wrath. Then Odin turned to the third child. And behold! the Fenris Wolf was soappalling to look upon that Odin feared to cast him forth, and hedecided to endeavor to tame him by kindness so that he should not wishthem ill. But when he bade them carry food to the Fenris Wolf, not one of the Asaswould do so, for they feared a snap from his great jaws. Only the braveTyr had courage enough to feed him, and the wolf ate so much and so fastthat the business took him all his time. Meantime, too, the Fenris grewso rapidly, and became so fierce, that the gods were compelled to takecounsel and consider how they should get rid of him. They rememberedthat it would make their peaceful halls unholy if they were to slay him, and so they resolved instead to bind him fast, that he should be unableto do them harm. So those of the Asa folk who were clever smiths set to work and made avery strong, thick chain; and when it was finished they carried it outto the yard where the wolf dwelt, and said to him, as though in jest:"Here is a fine proof of thy boasted strength, O Fenris. Let us bindthis about thee, that we may see if thou canst break it asunder. " Then the wolf gave a great grin with his wide jaws, and came and stoodstill that they might bind the chain about him; for he knew what hecould do. And it came to pass that directly they had fastened the chain, and had slipped aside from him, the great beast gave himself a shake, and the chain fell about him in little bits. At this the Asas were muchannoyed, but they tried not to show it, and praised him for hisstrength. Then they set to work again upon a chain much stronger than the last, and brought it to the Fenris Wolf, saying: "Great will be thy renown, OFenris, if thou canst break this chain as thou didst the last. " But the wolf looked at them askance, for the chain they brought was verymuch thicker than the one he had already broken. He reflected, however, that since that time he himself had grown stronger and bigger, andmoreover, that one must risk something in order to win renown. So he let them put the chain upon him, and when the Asas said that allwas ready, he gave a good shake and stretched himself a few times, andagain the fetters lay in fragments on the ground. Then the gods began to fear that they would never hold the wolf inbonds; and it was All-Father Odin who persuaded them to make one moreattempt. So they sent a messenger to Dwarfland bidding him ask theLittle Men to make a chain which nothing could possibly destroy. Setting at once to work, the clever little smiths soon fashioned aslender silken rope, and gave it to the messenger, saying that nostrength could break it, and that the more it was strained the strongerit would become. It was made of the most mysterious things--the sound of a cat'sfootsteps, the roots of a mountain, the sinews of a bear, the breath offishes, and other such strange materials, which only the dwarfs knew howto use. With this chain the messenger hastened back over the RainbowBridge to Asgard. By this time the Fenris Wolf had grown too big for his yard, so he livedon a rocky island in the middle of the lake that lies in the midst ofAsgard. And here the Asas now betook themselves with their chain, andbegan to play their part with wily words. "See, " they cried, "O Fenris! Here is a cord so soft and thin that nonewould think of it binding such strength as thine. " And they laughedgreat laughs, and handed it to one another, and tried its strength bypulling at it with all their might, but it did not break. Then they came nearer and used more wiles, saying: "_We_ cannot breakthe cord, though 'tis stronger than it looks, but thou, O mighty one, will be able to snap it in a moment. " But the wolf tossed his head in scorn, and said: "Small renown wouldthere be to me, O Asa folk, if I were to break yon slender string. Save, therefore, your breath, and leave me now alone. " "Aha!" cried the Asas, "thou fearest the might of the silken cord, thoufalse one, and that is why thou wilt not let us bind thee!" "Not I, " said the Fenris Wolf, growing rather suspicious, "but if it ismade with craft and guile it shall never come near my feet. " "But, " said the Asas, "thou wilt surely be able to break this silkencord with ease, since thou hast already broken the great iron fetters. " To this the wolf made no answer, pretending not to hear. "Come!" said the Asas again, "why shouldst thou fear? For even if thoucouldst not break the cord we would immediately let thee free again. Torefuse is a coward's piece of work. " Then the wolf gnashed his teeth at them in anger, and said: "Well I knowyou Asas! For if you bind me so fast that I cannot get loose you willskulk away, and it will be long before I get any help from you; andtherefore am I loth to let this band be laid upon me. " But still the Asas continued to persuade him and to twit him withcowardice until at length the Fenris Wolf said, with a sullen growl:"Have it your own way then. But, as a pledge that this is done withoutdeceit, let one of you lay his hand in my mouth while you are bindingme, and afterwards while I try to break the bonds. " Then the Asa folk looked at one another in dismay, for they knew verywell what this would mean. And while they consulted together the wolfstood gnashing his teeth at them with a horrid grin. At length Tyr the Brave hesitated no longer. Boldly he stalked up to thewolf and thrust his arm into his enormous mouth, bidding the Asas bindfast the beast. Scarce had they done so when the wolf began to strainand pull, but the more he did so the tighter and stiffer the ropebecame. The gods shouted and laughed with glee when they saw how all his effortswere in vain. But Tyr did not join in their mirth, for the wolf in hisrage snapped his great teeth together and bit off his hand at the wrist. Now when the Asas discovered that the animal was fast bound, they tookthe chain which was fixed to the rope and drew it through a huge rock, and fastened this rock deep down in the earth, so that it could never bemoved. And this they fastened to another great rock which was drivenstill deeper into the ground. When the Fenris Wolf found that he had been thus secured he opened hismouth terribly wide, and twisted himself right and left, and tried hisbest to bite the Asa folk. He uttered, moreover, such terrible howlsthat at length the gods could bear it no longer. So they took a swordand thrust it into his mouth, so that the hilt rested on his lower, andthe point against his upper, jaw. And there he was doomed to remainuntil the end of All Things shall come, when he "Freed from the Chain Shall range the Earth. " 267 The story of Frey in the Norse mythology corresponds to that of Persephone (Proserpine) in classic mythology. (See No. 255. ) Frey is "the god of the earth's fruitfulness, presiding over rain, sunshine, and all the fruits of the earth, and dispensing wealth among men. " Skirnir is the sun-warmed air, and Gerda is the seed. The version of the story used below is from _The Heroes of Asgard_ by Annie and Eliza Keary. This book was first published in 1854, and while a little old-fashioned in style is still one of the most pleasing attempts to tell the Norse myths for young people. FREY A. AND E. KEARY PART I ON TIPTOE IN AIR THRONE Wherever Frey came there was summer and sunshine. Flowers sprang upunder his footsteps, and bright-winged insects, like flying flowers, hovered round his head. His warm breath ripened the fruit on the trees, and gave a bright yellow color to the corn, and purple bloom to thegrapes, as he passed through fields and vineyards. When he rode along in his car, drawn by the stately boar, GoldenBristles, soft winds blew before him, filling the air with fragrance andspreading abroad the news, "Van Frey is coming!" and every half-closedflower burst into perfect beauty, and forest, and field, and hillflushed their richest colors to greet his presence. Under Frey's care and instruction the pretty little light elves forgottheir idle ways and learned all the pleasant tasks he had promised toteach them. It was the prettiest possible sight to see them in theevening filling their tiny buckets, and running about among the woodsand meadows to hang the dew-drops deftly on the slender tips of thegrass-blades, or to drop them into the half-closed cups of the sleepyflowers. When this last of their day's tasks was over they used tocluster round their summer-king, like bees about the queen, while hetold them stories about the wars between the Aesir and the giants, or ofthe old time when he lived alone with his father Niörd, in Noatun, andlistened to the waves singing songs of far distant lands. So pleasantlydid they spend their time in Alfheim. But in the midst of all this work and play Frey had a wish in his mind, of which he could not help often talking to his clear-minded messengerand friend Skirnir. "I have seen many things, " he used to say, "andtraveled through many lands; but to see all the world at once, as AsaOdin does from Air Throne, _that_ must be a splendid sight. " "Only Father Odin may sit on Air Throne, " Skirnir would say; and itseemed to Frey that this answer was not so much to the purpose as hisfriend's sayings generally were. At length, one very clear summer evening, when Odin was feasting withthe other Aesir in Valhalla, Frey could restrain his curiosity nolonger. He left Alfheim, where all the little elves were fast asleep, and, without asking any one's advice, climbed into Air Throne, and stoodon tiptoe in Odin's very seat. It was a clear evening, and I had, perhaps, better not even try to tell you what Frey saw. He looked first all round him over Manheim, where the rosy light of theset sun still lingered, and where men, and birds, and flowers weregathering themselves up for their night's repose; then he glancedtowards the heavenly hills where Bifröst rested, and then towards theshadowy land which deepened down into Niflheim. At length he turned hiseyes northward to the misty land of Jötunheim. There the shades ofevening had already fallen; but from his high place Frey could still seedistinct shapes moving about through the gloom. Strange and monstrousshapes they were, and Frey stood a little higher, on tiptoe, that hemight look further after them. In this position he could just descry atall house standing on a hill in the very middle of Jötunheim. While helooked at it a maiden came and lifted up her arms to undo the latch ofthe door. It was dusk in Jötunheim; but when this maiden lifted up herwhite arms, such a dazzling reflection came from them, that Jötunheim, and the sky, and all the sea were flooded with clear light. For a momenteverything could be distinctly seen; but Frey saw nothing but the faceof the maiden with the uplifted arms; and when she had entered the houseand shut the door after her, and darkness fell again on earth, and sky, and sea, --darkness fell, too, upon Frey's heart. PART II THE GIFT The next morning, when the little elves awoke up with the dawn, and camethronging round their king to receive his commands, they were surprisedto see that he had changed since they last saw him. "He has grown up in the night, " they whispered one to anothersorrowfully. And in truth he was no longer so fit a teacher andplayfellow for the merry little people as he had been a few hoursbefore. It was to no purpose that the sweet winds blew, and the flowers opened, when Frey came forth from his chamber. A bright white light still dancedbefore him, and nothing now seemed to him worth looking at. That eveningwhen the sun had set, and work was over, there were no stories for thelight elves. "Be still, " Frey said, when they pressed round. "If you will be stilland listen, there are stories enough to be heard better than mine. " I do not know whether the elves heard anything; but to Frey it seemedthat flowers, and birds, and winds, and the whispering rivers, unitedthat day in singing one song, which he never wearied of hearing. "We arefair, " they said; "but there is nothing in the whole world so fair asGerda, the giant-maiden whom you saw last night in Jötunheim. " "Frey has dew-drops in his eyes, " the little elves said to each other inwhispers as they sat round looking up at him, and they felt very muchsurprised; for only to men and the Aesir is it permitted to be sorrowfuland weep. Soon, however, wiser people noticed the change that had comeover the summer-king, and his good-natured father, Niörd, sent Skirnirone day into Alfheim to inquire into the cause of Frey's sorrow. He found him walking alone in a shady place, and Frey was glad enough totell his trouble to his wise friend. When he had related the whole story, he said, "And now you will see thatthere is no use in asking me to be merry as I used to be; for how can Iever be happy in Alfheim, and enjoy the summer and sunshine, while mydear Gerda, whom I love, is living in a dark, cold land, among cruelgiants?" "If she be really as beautiful and beloved as you say, " answeredSkirnir, "she must be sadly out of place in Jötunheim. Why do not youask her to be your wife, and live with you in Alfheim?" "That would I only too gladly do, " answered Frey; "but if I were toleave Alfheim only for a few hours, the cruel giant Ryme, --the FrostGiant--would rush in to take my place; all the labors of the year wouldbe undone in a night, and the poor, toiling men, who are watching forthe harvest, would wake some morning to find their corn fields andorchards buried in snow. " "Well, " said Skirnir, thoughtfully, "I am neither so strong nor sobeautiful as you, Frey; but, if you will give me the sword that hangs byyour side, I will undertake the journey to Jötunheim; and I will speakin such a way of you, and of Alfheim, to the lovely Gerda, that shewill gladly leave her land and the house of her giant-father to come toyou. " Now, Frey's sword was a gift, and he knew well enough that he ought notto part with it, or trust it in any hands but his own; and yet how couldhe expect Skirnir to risk all the dangers of Jötunheim for any lessrecompense than an enchanted sword? And what other hope had he of everseeing his dear Gerda again? He did not allow himself a moment to think of the choice he was making. He unbuckled his sword from his side and put it into Skirnir's hands;and then he turned rather pettishly away, and threw himself down on amossy bank under a tree. "You will be many days in traveling to Jötunheim, " he said, "and allthat time I shall be miserable. " Skirnir was too sensible to think this speech worth answering. He took ahasty farewell of Frey, and prepared to set off on his journey; but, before he left the hill, he chanced to see the reflection of Frey's facein a little pool of water that lay near. In spite of its sorrowfulexpression, it was as beautiful as the woods are in full summer, and aclever thought came into Skirnir's mind. He stooped down, without Frey'sseeing him, and, with cunning touch, stole the picture out of the water;then he fastened it up carefully in his silver drinking-horn, and, hiding it in his mantle, he mounted his horse and rode towardsJötunheim, secure of succeeding in his mission, since he carried amatchless sword to conquer the giant, and a matchless picture to win themaiden. PART III FAIREST GERDA The house of Gymir, Gerda's father, stood in the middle of Jötunheim, soit will not be difficult for you to imagine what a toilsome and wondrousjourney Skirnir had. He was a brave hero, and he rode a brave horse;but, when they came to the barrier of murky flame that surroundsJötunheim, a shudder came over both. "Dark it is without, " said Skirnir to his horse, "and you and I mustleap through flame, and go over hoar mountains among Giant Folk. Thegiants will take us both, or we shall return victorious together. " Thenhe patted his horse's neck, and touched him with his armed heel, andwith one bound he cleared the barrier, and his hoofs rang on the frozenland. Their first day's journey was through the land of the Frost Giants, whose prickly touch kills, and whose breath is sharper than swords. Thenthey passed through the dwellings of the horse-headed and vulture-headedgiants--monsters terrible to see. Skirnir hid his face, and the horseflew along swifter than the wind. On the evening of the third day they reached Gymir's house. Skirnir roderound it nine times; but though there were twenty doors, he could findno entrance; for fierce three-headed dogs guarded every doorway. At length he saw a herdsman pass near, and he rode up and asked him howit was possible for a stranger to enter Gymir's house, or get a sight ofhis fair daughter Gerda. "Are you doomed to death, or are you already a dead man, " answered theherdsman, "that you talk of seeing Gymir's fair daughter, or entering ahouse from which no one ever returns?" "My death is fixed for one day, " said Skirnir, in answer, and his voice, the voice of an Asa, sounded loud and clear through the misty air ofJötunheim. It reached the ears of the fair Gerda as she sat in herchamber with her maidens. "What is that noise of noises, " she said, "that I hear? The earth shakeswith it, and all Gymir's halls tremble. " Then one of the maidens got up, and peeped out of the window. "I see aman, " she said; "he has dismounted from his horse, and he is fearlesslyletting it graze before the door. " "Go out and bring him in stealthily, then, " said Gerda; "I must againhear him speak; for his voice is sweeter than the ringing of bells. " So the maiden rose, and opened the house-door softly, lest the grimgiant, Gymir, who was drinking mead in the banquet-hall with seven othergiants, should hear and come forth. Skirnir heard the door open, and understanding the maiden's sign, heentered with stealthy steps, and followed her to Gerda's chamber. Assoon as he entered the doorway the light from her face shone upon him, and he no longer wondered that Frey had given up his sword. "Are you the son of an Asa, or an Alf, or of a wise Van?" asked Gerda;"and why have you come through flame and snow to visit our halls?" Then Skirnir came forward and knelt at Gerda's feet, and gave hismessage, and spoke as he had promised to speak of Van Frey and ofAlfheim. Gerda listened; and it was pleasant enough to talk to her, looking intoher bright face; but she did not seem to understand much of what hesaid. He promised to give her eleven golden apples from Iduna's grove if shewould go with him, and that she should have the magic ring Draupnir fromwhich every day a still fairer jewel fell. But he found there was no usein talking of beautiful things to one who had never in all her life seenanything beautiful. Gerda smiled at him as a child smiles at a fairytale. At length he grew angry. "If you are so childish, maiden, " he said, "that you can believe only what you have seen, and have no thought ofAesirland or the Aesir, then sorrow and utter darkness shall fall uponyou; you shall live alone on the Eagle Mount turned towards Hel. Terrorsshall beset you; weeping shall be your lot. Men and Aesir will hate you, and you shall be doomed to live for ever with the Frost Giant, Ryme, inwhose cold arms you will wither away like a thistle on a house-top. " "Gently, " said Gerda, turning away her bright head, and sighing. "How amI to blame? You make such a talk of your Aesir and your Aesir; but howcan I know about it, when all my life long I have lived with giants?" At these words, Skirnir rose as if he would have departed, but Gerdacalled him back. "You must drink a cup of mead, " she said, "in returnfor your sweet-sounding words. " Skirnir heard this gladly, for now he knew what he would do. He took thecup from her hand, drank off the mead, and, before he returned it, hecontrived cleverly to pour in the water from his drinking-horn, on whichFrey's image was painted; then he put the cup into Gerda's hand, andbade her look. She smiled as she looked; and the longer she looked, the sweeter grewher smile; for she looked for the first time on a face that loved her, and many things became clear to her that she had never understoodbefore. Skirnir's words were no longer like fairy tales. She could nowbelieve in Aesirland, and in all beautiful things. "Go back to your master, " she said, at last, "and tell him that in ninedays I will meet him in the warm wood Barri. " After hearing these joyful words, Skirnir made haste to take leave, forevery moment that he lingered in the giant's house he was in danger. Oneof Gerda's maidens conducted him to the door, and he mounted his horseagain, and rode from Jötunheim with a glad heart. PART IV THE WOOD BARRI When Skirnir got back to Alfheim, and told Gerda's answer to Frey, hewas disappointed to find that his master did not immediately look asbright and happy as he expected. "Nine days!" he said; "but how can I wait nine days? One day is long, and three days are very long, but 'nine days' might as well be a wholeyear. " I have heard children say such things when one tells them to wait for anew toy. Skirnir and old Niörd only laughed at it; but Freyja and all the ladiesof Asgard made a journey to Alfheim, when they heard the story, tocomfort Frey, and hear all the news about the wedding. "Dear Frey, " they said, "it will never do to lie still here, sighingunder a tree. You are quite mistaken about the time being long; it ishardly long enough to prepare the marriage presents, and talk over thewedding. You have no idea how busy we are going to be; everything inAlfheim will have to be altered a little. " At these words Frey really did lift up his head, and wake up from hismusings. He looked, in truth, a little frightened at the thought; but, when all the Asgard ladies were ready to work for his wedding, how couldhe make any objection? He was not allowed to have much share in thebusiness himself; but he had little time, during the nine days, toindulge in private thought, for never before was there such a commotionin Alfheim. The ladies found so many things that wanted overlooking, andthe little light elves were not of the slightest use to any one. Theyforgot all their usual tasks, and went running about through groves andfields, and by the sedgy banks of rivers, peering into earth-holes, andcreeping down into flower-cups and empty snail-shells, every one hopingto find a gift for Gerda. Some stole the light from glowworms' tails, and wove it into a necklace, and others pulled the ruby spots from cowslip leaves, to set with jewelsthe acorn cups that Gerda was to drink from; while the swiftest runnerschased the butterflies, and pulled feathers from their wings to makefans and bonnet-plumes. All the work was scarcely finished when the ninth day came, and Frey setout from Alfheim with all his elves, to the warm wood Barri. The Aesir joined him on the way, and they made, together, something likea wedding procession. First came Frey in his chariot, drawn by GoldenBristles, and carrying in his hand the wedding ring, which was noneother than Draupnir, the magic ring of which so many stories are told. Odin and Frigga followed with their wedding gift, the Ship Skidbladnir, in which all the Aesir could sit and sail, though it could afterwards befolded up so small that you might carry it in your hand. Then came Iduna, with eleven golden apples in a basket on her fair head, and then two and two all the heroes and ladies with their gifts. All round them flocked the elves, toiling under the weight of theirofferings. It took twenty little people to carry one gift, and yet therewas not one so large as a baby's finger. Laughing, and singing, anddancing, they entered the warm wood, and every summer flower sent asweet breath after them. Everything on earth smiled on the wedding-dayof Frey and Gerda, only--when it was all over, and every one had gonehome, and the moon shone cold into the wood--it seemed as if the Vanirspoke to one another. "Odin, " said one voice, "gave his eye for wisdom, and we have seen thatit was well done. " "Frey, " answered the other, "has given his sword for happiness. It maybe well to be unarmed while the sun shines and bright days last; butwhen Ragnarök has come, and the sons of Muspell ride down to the lastfight, will not Frey regret his sword?" 268 Balder represented sunlight. He was a son of Odin. If we try to imagine how welcome the sunlight of spring must have been to the Norse folk after the long Arctic night of winter, we may understand why everything in the world, except the evil Loke, was willing to weep in order to bring Balder back from Helheim. Some knowledge of the geography of Norse mythology will aid the reader in understanding the myth of Balder. Far below Asgard, the home of the gods, was Niflheim, the region of cold and darkness. Here in a deep cavern was Helheim, the city of the dead, over which Hel ruled. Midway between Asgard and Niflheim was Midgard, the earth. The whole universe was supported by Ygdrasil, a wonderful ash-tree, one root of which extended into Midgard, one into Jötunheim, and one into Niflheim. "Balder is another figure of that radiant type to which belong all bright and genial heroes, righters of wrong, blazing to consume evil, gentle and strong to uplift weakness: Apollo, Hercules, Perseus, Achilles, Sigard, St. George, and many another. " Balder has been a favorite subject for poetic treatment, perhaps to best effect in Matthew Arnold's dignified "Balder Dead. " THE DEATH OF BALDER HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE There was one shadow which always fell over Asgard. Sometimes in thelong years the gods almost forgot it, it lay so far off, like a dimcloud in a clear sky; but Odin saw it deepen and widen as he looked outinto the universe, and he knew that the last great battle would surelycome, when the gods themselves would be destroyed and a long twilightwould rest on all the worlds; and now the day was close at hand. Misfortunes never come singly to men, and they did not to the gods. Idun, the beautiful goddess of youth, whose apples were the joy of allAsgard, made a resting place for herself among the massive branches ofYgdrasil, and there every evening came Brage, and sang so sweetly thatthe birds stopped to listen, and even the Norns, those implacablesisters at the foot of the tree, were softened by the melody. Butpoetry cannot change the purposes of fate, and one evening no song washeard of Brage or birds, the leaves of the world-tree hung withered andlifeless on the branches, and the fountain from which they had dailybeen sprinkled was dry at last. Idun had fallen into the dark valley ofdeath, and when Brage, Heimdal, and Loke went to question her about thefuture she could answer them only with tears. Brage would not leave hisbeautiful wife alone amid the dim shades that crowded the dreary valley, and so youth and genius vanished out of Asgard forever. Balder was the most god-like of all the gods, because he was the purestand the best. Wherever he went his coming was like the coming ofsunshine, and all the beauty of summer was but the shining of his face. When men's hearts were white like the light, and their lives clear asthe day, it was because Balder was looking down upon them with thosesoft, clear eyes that were open windows to the soul of God. He hadalways lived in such a glow of brightness that no darkness had evertouched him; but one morning, after Idun and Brage had gone, Balder'sface was sad and troubled. He walked slowly from room to room in hispalace Breidablik, stainless as the sky when April showers have sweptacross it because no impure thing had ever crossed the threshold, andhis eyes were heavy with sorrow. In the night terrible dreams had brokenhis sleep, and made it a long torture. The air seemed to be full ofawful changes for him, and for all the gods. He knew in his soul thatthe shadow of the last great day was sweeping on; as he looked out andsaw the worlds lying in light and beauty, the fields yellow with wavinggrain, the deep fiords flashing back the sunbeams from their cleardepths, the verdure clothing the loftiest mountains, and knew that overall this darkness and desolation would come, with silence of reapers andbirds, with fading of leaf and flower, a great sorrow fell on his heart. Balder could bear the burden no longer. He went out, called all the godstogether, and told them the terrible dreams of the night. Every face washeavy with care. The death of Balder would be like the going out of thesun, and after a long, sad council the gods resolved to protect him fromharm by pledging all things to stand between him and any hurt. So Frigg, his mother, went forth and made everything promise, on a solemn oath, not to injure her son. Fire, iron, all kinds of metal, every sort ofstone, trees, earth, diseases, birds, beasts, snakes, as the anxiousmother went to them, solemnly pledged themselves that no harm shouldcome near Balder. Everything promised, and Frigg thought she had drivenaway the cloud; but fate was stronger than her love, and one littleshrub had not sworn. Odin was not satisfied even with these precautions, for whichever way helooked the shadow of a great sorrow spread over the worlds. He began tofeel as if he were no longer the greatest of the gods, and he couldalmost hear the rough shouts of the frost-giants crowding the rainbowbridge on their way into Asgard. When trouble comes to men it is hard tobear, but to a god who had so many worlds to guide and rule it was a newand terrible thing. Odin thought and thought until he was weary, but nogleam of light could he find anywhere; it was thick darknesseverywhere. At last he could bear the suspense no longer, and saddling his horse herode sadly out of Asgard to Niflheim, the home of Hel, whose face was asthe face of death itself. As he drew near the gates, a monstrous dogcame out and barked furiously, but Odin rode a little eastward of theshadowy gates to the grave of a wonderful prophetess. It was a cold, gloomy place, and the soul of the great god was pierced with a feelingof hopeless sorrow as he dismounted from Sleipner, and bending over thegrave began to chant weird songs, and weave magical charms over it. Whenhe had spoken those wonderful words which could waken the dead fromtheir sleep, there was an awful silence for a moment, and then a faintghost-like voice came from the grave. "Who art thou?" it said. "Who breaketh the silence of death, and calleththe sleeper out of her long slumbers? Ages ago I was laid at rest here, snow and rain have fallen upon me through myriad years; why dost thoudisturb me?" "I am Vegtam, " answered Odin, "and I come to ask why the couches of Helare hung with gold and the benches strewn with shining rings?" "It is done for Balder, " answered the awful voice; "ask me no more. " Odin's heart sank when he heard these words; but he was determined toknow the worst. "I will ask thee until I know all. Who shall strike the fatal blow?" "If I must, I must, " moaned the prophetess. "Hoder shall smite hisbrother Balder and send him down to the dark home of Hel. The mead isalready brewed for Balder, and the despair draweth near. " Then Odin, looking into the future across the open grave, saw all thedays to come. "Who is this, " he said, seeing that which no mortal could haveseen, --"who is this that will not weep for Balder?" Then the prophetess knew that it was none other than the greatest of thegods who had called her up. "Thou are not Vegtam, " she exclaimed, "thou art Odin himself, the kingof men. " "And thou, " answered Odin angrily, "art no prophetess, but the mother ofthree giants. " "Ride home, then, and exult in what thou hast discovered, " said the deadwoman. "Never shall my slumbers be broken again until Loke shall bursthis chains and the great battle come. " And Odin rode sadly homeward knowing that already Niflheim was makingitself beautiful against the coming of Balder. The other gods meanwhile had become merry again; for had not everythingpromised to protect their beloved Balder? They even made sport of thatwhich troubled them, for when they found that nothing could hurt Balder, and that all things glanced aside from his shining form, they persuadedhim to stand as a target for their weapons; hurling darts, spears, swords, and battle-axes at him, all of which went singing through theair and fell harmless at his feet. But Loke, when he saw these sports, was jealous of Balder, and went about thinking how he could destroy him. It happened that as Frigg sat spinning in her house Fensal, the softwind blowing in at the windows and bringing the merry shouts of the godsat play, an old woman entered and approached her. "Do you know, " asked the newcomer, "what they are doing in Asgard? Theyare throwing all manner of dangerous weapons at Balder. He stands therelike the sun for brightness, and against his glory, spears andbattle-axes fall powerless to the ground. Nothing can harm him. " "No, " answered Frigg, joyfully; "nothing can bring him any hurt, for Ihave made everything in heaven and earth swear to protect him. " "What!" said the old woman, "has everything sworn to guard Balder?" "Yes, " said Frigg, "everything has sworn except one little shrub whichis called Mistletoe, and grows on the eastern side of Valhal. I did nottake an oath from that because I thought it too young and weak. " When the old woman heard this a strange light came into her eyes; shewalked off much faster than she had come in, and no sooner had shepassed beyond Frigg's sight than this same feeble old woman grewsuddenly erect, shook off her woman's garments, and there stood Lokehimself. In a moment he had reached the slope east of Valhal, hadplucked a twig of the unsworn Mistletoe, and was back in the circle ofthe gods, who were still at their favorite pastime with Balder. Hoderwas standing silent and alone outside the noisy throng, for he wasblind. Loke touched him. "Why do you not throw something at Balder?" "Because I cannot see where Balder stands, and have nothing to throw ifI could, " replied Hoder. "If that is all, " said Loke, "come with me. I will give you something tothrow, and direct your aim. " Hoder, thinking no evil, went with Loke and did as he was told. The little sprig of Mistletoe shot through the air, pierced the heart ofBalder, and in a moment the beautiful god lay dead upon the field. Ashadow rose out of the deep beyond the worlds and spread itself overheaven and earth, for the light of the universe had gone out. The gods could not speak for horror. They stood like statues for amoment, and then a hopeless wail burst from their lips. Tears fell likerain from eyes that had never wept before, for Balder, the joy ofAsgard, had gone to Niflheim and left them desolate. But Odin wassaddest of all, because he knew the future, and he knew that peace andlight had fled from Asgard forever, and that the last day and the longnight were hurrying on. Frigg could not give up her beautiful son, and when her grief had spentitself a little, she asked who would go to Hel and offer her a richransom if she would permit Balder to return to Asgard. "I will go, " said Hermod; swift at the word of Odin, Sleipner was ledforth, and in an instant Hermod was galloping furiously away. Then the gods began with sorrowful hearts to make ready for Balder'sfuneral. When the once beautiful form had been arrayed in grave-clothesthey carried it reverently down to the deep sea, which lay, calm as asummer afternoon, waiting for its precious burden. Close to the water'sedge lay Balder's Ringhorn, the greatest of all the ships that sailedthe seas, but when the gods tried to launch it they could not move it aninch. The great vessel creaked and groaned, but no one could push itdown to the water. Odin walked about it with a sad face, and the gentleripple of the little waves chasing each other over the rocks seemed amocking laugh to him. "Send to Jötunheim for Hyrroken, " he said at last; and a messenger wassoon flying for that mighty giantess. In a little time, Hyrroken came riding swiftly on a wolf so large andfierce that he made the gods think of Fenris. When the giantess hadalighted, Odin ordered four Berserkers of mighty strength to hold thewolf, but he struggled so angrily that they had to throw him on theground before they could control him. Then Hyrroken went to the prow ofthe ship and with one mighty effort sent it far into the sea, therollers underneath bursting into flame, and the whole earth tremblingwith the shock. Thor was so angry at the uproar that he would havekilled the giantess on the spot if he had not been held back by theother gods. The great ship floated on the sea as she had often donebefore, when Balder, full of life and beauty, set all her sails and wasborne joyfully across the tossing seas. Slowly and solemnly the dead godwas carried on board, and as Nanna, his faithful wife, saw her husbandborne for the last time from the earth which he had made dear to her andbeautiful to all men, her heart broke with sorrow, and they laid herbeside Balder on the funeral pyre. Since the world began no one had seen such a funeral. No bell tolled, nolong procession of mourners moved across the hills, but all the worldslay under a deep shadow, and from every quarter came those who had lovedor feared Balder. There at the very water's edge stood Odin himself, theravens flying about his head, and on his majestic face a gloom that nosun would ever lighten again; and there was Frigg, the desolate mother, whose son had already gone so far that he would never come back to her;there was Frey standing sad and stern in his chariot; there was Freyja, the goddess of love, from whose eyes fell a shining rain of tears;there, too, was Heimdal on his horse Goldtop; and around all theseglorious ones from Asgard crowded the children of Jötunheim, grimmountain-giants seamed with scars from Thor's hammer, and frost-giantswho saw in the death of Balder the coming of that long winter in whichthey should reign through all the worlds. A deep hush fell on all created things, and every eye was fixed on thegreat ship riding near the shore, and on the funeral pyre rising fromthe deck crowned with the forms of Balder and Nanna. Suddenly a gleam oflight flashed over the water; the pile had been kindled, and the flames, creeping slowly at first, climbed faster and faster until they met overthe dead and rose skyward. A lurid light filled the heavens and shone onthe sea, and in the brightness of it the gods looked pale and sad, andthe circle of giants grew darker and more portentous. Thor struck thefast burning pyre with his consecrating hammer, and Odin cast into itthe wonderful ring Draupner. Higher and higher leaped the flames, moreand more desolate grew the scene; at last they began to sink, thefuneral pyre was consumed. Balder had vanished forever, the summer wasended, and winter waited at the doors. Meanwhile Hermod was riding hard and fast on his gloomy errand. Ninedays and nights he rode through valleys so deep and dark that he couldnot see his horse. Stillness and blackness and solitude were his onlycompanions until he came to the golden bridge which crosses the riverGjol. The good horse Sleipner, who had carried Odin on so many strangejourneys, had never traveled such a road before, and his hoofs rangdrearily as he stopped short at the bridge, for in front of him stoodits porter, the gigantic Modgud. "Who are you?" she asked, fixing her piercing eyes on Hermod. "What isyour name and parentage? Yesterday five bands of dead men rode acrossthe bridge, and beneath them all it did not shake as under your singletread. There is no color of death in your face. Why ride you hither, theliving among the dead?" "I come, " said Hermod, "to seek for Balder. Have you seen him pass thisway?" "He has already crossed the bridge and taken his journey northward toHel. " Then Hermod rode slowly across the bridge that spans the abyss betweenlife and death, and found his way at last to the barred gates of Hel'sdreadful home. There he sprang to the ground, tightened the girths, remounted, drove the spurs deep into the horse, and Sleipner, with amighty leap, cleared the wall. Hermod rode straight to the gloomypalace, dismounted, entered, and in a moment was face to face with theterrible queen of the kingdom of the dead. Beside her, on a beautifulthrone, sat Balder, pale and wan, crowned with a withered wreath offlowers, and close at hand was Nanna, pallid as her husband, for whomshe had died. And all night long, while ghostly forms wandered restlessand sleepless through Helheim, Hermod talked with Balder and Nanna. There is no record of what they said, but the talk was sad enough, doubtless, and ran like a still stream among the happy days in Asgardwhen Balder's smile was morning over the earth and the sight of his facethe summer of the world. When the morning came, faint and dim, through the dusky palace, Hermodsought Hel, who received him as cold and stern as fate. "Your kingdom is full, O Hel!" he said, "and without Balder, Asgard isempty. Send him back to us once more, for there is sadness in everyheart and tears are in every eye. Through heaven and earth all thingsweep for him. " "If that is true, " was the slow, icy answer, "if every created thingweeps for Balder, he shall return to Asgard; but if one eye is dry heremains henceforth in Helheim. " Then Hermod rode swiftly away, and the decree of Hel was soon told inAsgard. Through all the worlds the gods sent messengers to say that allwho loved Balder should weep for his return, and everywhere tears felllike rain. There was weeping in Asgard, and in all the earth there wasnothing that did not weep. Men and women and little children, missingthe light that had once fallen into their hearts and homes, sobbed withbitter grief; the birds of the air, who had sung carols of joy at thegates of the morning since time began, were full of sorrow; the beastsof the fields crouched and moaned in their desolation; the great trees, that had put on their robes of green at Balder's command, sighed as thewind wailed through them; and the sweet flowers, that waited forBalder's footstep and sprang up in all the fields to greet him, hungtheir frail blossoms and wept bitterly for the love and the warmth andthe light that had gone out. Throughout the whole earth there wasnothing but weeping, and the sound of it was like the wailing of thosestorms in autumn that weep for the dead summer as its withered leavesdrop one by one from the trees. The messengers of the gods went gladly back to Asgard, for everythinghad wept for Balder; but as they journeyed they came upon a giantess, called Thok, and her eyes were dry. "Weep for Balder, " they said. "With dry eyes only will I weep for Balder, " she answered. "Dead oralive, he never gave me gladness. Let him stay in Helheim. " When she had spoken these words a terrible laugh broke from her lips, and the messengers looked at each other with pallid faces, for they knewit was the voice of Loke. Balder never came back to Asgard, and the shadows deepened over allthings, for the night of death was fast coming on. SECTION VII POETRY BIBLIOGRAPHY I. SOME IMPORTANT GENERAL COLLECTIONS Bryant, William Cullen, _Library of Poetry and Song_. Child, Francis J. , _English and Scottish Popular Ballads_. [Ed. By Sargent and Kittredge. ] Quiller-Couch, Sir Arthur, _Oxford Book of English Verse_. Stedman, Edmund Clarence, _An American Anthology_. _A Victorian Anthology. _ Stevenson, Burton E. , _The Home Book of Verse_. The finest single-volume general collection yet made. It runs to nearly 4, 000 pages, but is printed on thin paper so that the volume is not unwieldy. Stevenson, Burton E. , _Poems of American History_. II. COLLECTIONS FOR CHILDREN Chisholm, L. , _The Golden Staircase_. Grahame, Kenneth, _The Cambridge Book of Poetry for Children_. Henley, William Ernest, _Lyra Heroica_. Ingpen, Roger, _One Thousand Poems for Children_. Lang, Andrew, _The Blue Poetry Book_. Lucas, Edward Verrall, _A Book of Verses for Children_. _Another Book of Verses for Children. _ Olcott, Frances J. , _Story Telling Ballads_. _Story Telling Poems for Children. _ Palgrave, Francis T. , _The Children's Treasury of Poetry and Song_. Repplier, Agnes, _A Book of Famous Verse_. Smith, J. C. , _A Book of Verse for Boys and Girls_. Stevenson, Burton E. , _The Home Book of Verse for Young Folks_. Thacher, Lucy W. , _The Listening Child_. Whittier, John Greenleaf, _Child Life in Poetry_. Wiggin, K. D. , and Smith, N. A. , _The Posy Ring_. _Golden Numbers. _ III. INDIVIDUAL AUTHORS Blake, William, _Songs of Innocence_. Cary, Alice and Phoebe, _Poems for Children_. [In _Complete Works. _] Dodge, Mary Mapes, _Rhymes and Jingles_. Field, Eugene, _Songs of Childhood_. Greenaway, Kate, _Marigold Garden_. _Under the Window. _ Lamb, Charles and Mary, _Poetry for Children_. Lear, Edward, _Nonsense Songs_. Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, _Complete Poetical Works_. Richards, Laura E. , _In My Nursery_. Riley, James Whitcomb, _Rhymes of Childhood_. Sherman, Frank Dempster, _Little-Folk Lyrics_. Stevenson, Robert Louis, _A Child's Garden of Verses_. Rands, William Brighty, _Lilliput Lyrics_. Rossetti, Christina G. , _Sing-Song_. _Goblin Market_. Seegmiller, Wilhelmina, _Little Rhymes for Little Readers_. Tabb, John B. , _Poems_. Taylor, Ann and Jane, _"Original Poems" and Others_. [Ed. By E. V. Lucas. ] Watts, Isaac, _Divine and Moral Songs_. Wells, Carolyn, _The Jingle Book_. SECTION VII. POETRY INTRODUCTORY Many teachers have more difficulty in interesting their pupils in poetrythan in any other form of literature. This difficulty may be due to anyone of a number of causes. It may be due to a lack of poeticappreciation on the part of the teacher, leading to poor judgment inselecting and presenting poetry. It may be due to the feeling that thereis something occult and mysterious about poetry that puts it outside therange of common interests, or to the idea that the technique of versemust in some way be emphasized. The first step in using poetrysuccessfully with children is to brush away all these and otherextraneous matters and to realize that poetry is in essence a simple andnatural mode of expression, and that all attempts to explain how poetrydoes its work may be left for later stages of study. It is not necessaryeven for the teacher to be able to recognize and name all the varietiesof rhythm to be able to present poetry enthusiastically andunderstandingly. Least of all is it necessary to have a prescribed listof the hundred "best poems. " Some of the best poems for children wouldnot belong in any such list. The selections in this section cover a wide variety. They are not allequally great, but no teacher can fail to find here something suitableand interesting for any grade. The few suggestions which it is possibleto make in this brief introduction may best, perhaps, and without anyintention of being exhaustive, be thrown into the form of dogmaticstatements: 1. If in doubt about what to use beyond the material in the following pages, depend upon some of the fine collections mentioned in the bibliography. Every teacher should have access to Stevenson's _Home Book of Verse for Young Folks_, which contains many poems from recent writers as well as the older favorites. If possible, have the advantage of the fine taste and judgment of the collections made by Andrew Lang, Miss Repplier, E. V. Lucas, and as many of the others as are available. 2. Remember that in poetry, more than elsewhere, one can present only what one is really interested in and, as a consequence, enthusiastic about. Even poems about whose fitness all judges agree should be omitted rather than run the risk of deadening them for children by a dead and formal handling. 3. Mainly, poetry should be presented orally. The appeal is first to the ear just as in music. The teacher should read or, better, recite the poem in order to get the best results. There should be no effort at "elocution" in its worst sense, but a simple, sincere rendering of the language of the poem. The more informal the process is, the better. There should be much repetition of favorite poems, so that the rich details and pictures may sink into the mind. 4. There should be great variety in choice that richness and breadth of impression may thus be gained. It is a mistake to confine the work in poetry entirely to lyrics or entirely to ballads. Wordsworth's "Daffodils" and Gilbert's "Yarn of the Nancy Bell" are far apart, but there is a place for each. Teachers should always be on the lookout for poetry old or new, in the magazines or elsewhere, which they can bring into the schoolroom. Such "finds" are often fresh with some timely suggestion and may prove just what is needed to start some hesitating pupil to reading poetry. 5. The earliest poetry should be that in which the music is very prominent and the idea absent or not prominent. The perfection of the Mother Goose jingles for little folks is in their fulfillment of this principle. Use and encourage strongly emphasized rhythm in reading poetry, especially in the early work. Gradually the meaning in poetry takes on more prominence as the work proceeds. 6. Children should be encouraged to commit much poetry to memory. They do this very easily after hearing it repeated a time or two. Such memorizing should not be done usually as a task. Children are, however, very obliging about liking what a teacher is enthusiastic about, and what they like they can hold in mind with surprising ease. The game of giving quotations that no one else in the class has given is always a delight. Don't be misled by the fun poked at the "memory gem method" of studying poetry. The error is not in memorizing complete poems and fine poetic passages, but in doing this in a mechanical fashion. 7. It is a mistake to use too much poetry at one time. Children, as well as grown people, tire of it more quickly than they do of prose. The mind seems soon to reach the saturation point where it is unable to take in any more. Frequent returns to a poem rather than long periods of study give the best results. 8. Encourage children to read poetry aloud. By example and suggestion help them keep their minds on the ideas, the pictures, the characters. Only by doing this can they really read so as to interpret a poem. No one can read with a lazy mind, or merely by imitation. Encourage them to croon or recite the lines when alone. 9. It is not necessary that children should understand everything in a poem. If it is worth while they will get enough of its meaning to justify its use and they will gradually see more and more in it as time passes. In fact it is this constantly growing content of a poem that makes its possession in memory such a treasure. Neither should the presence of difficult words be allowed to rule out a poem that possesses some large element of accessible value. Many words are understood by the ear that are not recognized by sight. SUGGESTIONS FOR READING Books such as Woodberry's _Heart of Man_ and _Appreciation of Literature_ are of especial value for getting the right attitude toward poetry. The most illuminating practical help would come from consulting the published lectures of Lafcadio Hearn, explaining poetry to Japanese students. His problem was not unlike that faced by the teacher of poetry in the grades. These lectures have been edited by John Erskine as _Interpretations of Literature_ (2 vols. ), _Appreciations of Poetry_, and _Life and Literature_. The whole philosophy of poetry is treated compactly in Professor Gayley's "The Principles of Poetry, " which forms the introduction to Gayley and Young's _Principles and Progress of English Poetry_. 269 Mrs. Follen (1787-1860) was a rather voluminous writer and adapter of juvenile material. Her verses are old-fashioned, simple, and child-like, and have pleased several generations of children. While they have no such air of distinction as belongs to Stevenson's poems for children, they are full of the fancies that children enjoy, and deserve their continued popularity. THE THREE LITTLE KITTENS ELIZA LEE FOLLEN Three little kittens lost their mittens; And they began to cry, "Oh, mother dear, We very much fear That we have lost our mittens. " "Lost your mittens! You naughty kittens! Then you shall have no pie!" "Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow. " "No, you shall have no pie. " The three little kittens found their mittens; And they began to cry, "Oh, mother dear, See here, see here! See, we have found our mittens!" "Put on your mittens, You silly kittens, And you may have some pie. " "Purr-r, purr-r, purr-r, Oh, let us have the pie! Purr-r, purr-r, purr-r. " The three little kittens put on their mittens, And soon ate up the pie; "Oh, mother dear, We greatly fear That we have soiled our mittens!" "Soiled your mittens! You naughty kittens!" Then they began to sigh, "Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow. " Then they began to sigh, "Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow. " The three little kittens washed their mittens, And hung them out to dry; "Oh, mother dear, Do not you hear That we have washed our mittens?" "Washed your mittens! Oh, you're good kittens! But I smell a rat close by; Hush, hush! Mee-ow, mee-ow. " "We smell a rat close by, Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow. " 270 THE MOON ELIZA LEE FOLLEN O look at the moon! She is shining up there; O mother, she looks Like a lamp in the air. Last week she was smaller, And shaped like a bow; But now she's grown bigger, And round as an O. Pretty moon, pretty moon, How you shine on the door, And make it all bright On my nursery floor! You shine on my playthings, And show me their place, And I love to look up At your pretty bright face. And there is a star Close by you, and maybe That small twinkling star Is your little baby. 271 RUNAWAY BROOK ELIZA LEE FOLLEN "Stop, stop, pretty water!" Said Mary one day, To a frolicsome brook That was running away. "You run on so fast! I wish you would stay; My boat and my flowers You will carry away. "But I will run after: Mother says that I may; For I would know where You are running away. " So Mary ran on; But I have heard say, That she never could find Where the brook ran away. 272 DING DONG! DING DONG! ELIZA LEE FOLLEN Ding dong! ding dong! I'll sing you a song; 'Tis about a little bird; He sat upon a tree, And he sang to me, And I never spoke a word. Ding dong! ding dong! I'll sing you a song; 'Tis about a little mouse; He looked very cunning, As I saw him running About my father's house. Ding dong! ding dong! I'll sing you a song About my little kitty; She's speckled all over, And I know you'll love her, For she is very pretty. 273 Mrs. Prentiss (1818-1878) was the author of _The Susy Books_, published from 1853 to 1856, forerunners of many series of such juvenile publications. The following poem has retained its hold on the affections of children. THE LITTLE KITTY ELIZABETH PRENTISS Once there was a little kitty Whiter than snow; In a barn she used to frolic, Long time ago. In the barn a little mousie Ran to and fro; For she heard the kitty coming, Long time ago. Two eyes had little kitty Black as a sloe; And they spied the little mousie, Long time ago. Four paws had little kitty, Paws soft as dough; And they caught the little mousie, Long time ago. Nine teeth had little kitty, All in a row; And they bit the little mousie, Long time ago. When the teeth bit little mousie, Little mouse cried, "Oh!" But she got away from kitty, Long time ago. 274 Mrs. Hale (1788-1879), left a widow with five children to support, devoted herself to a literary career. She wrote fiction, edited the _Ladies' Magazine_ of Boston, afterward the _Ladies' Book_ of Philadelphia, compiled a book of poetical quotations, and biographies of celebrated women. Most of her work was ephemeral in character, and she lives for us in the one poem that follows. It is usually printed without the last stanza which is here restored. Younger children, as a rule, do not object to such moralizing. MARY HAD A LITTLE LAMB SARA J. HALE Mary had a little lamb, Its fleece was white as snow, And everywhere that Mary went, The lamb was sure to go. He followed her to school one day, That was against the rule; It made the children laugh and play, To see a lamb at school. And so the Teacher turned him out, But still he lingered near, And waited patiently about, Till Mary did appear: And then he ran to her, and laid His head upon her arm, As if he said, "I'm not afraid, You'll save me from all harm. " "What makes the lamb love Mary so?" The eager children cry-- "Oh, Mary loves the lamb, you know, " The Teacher did reply. And you each gentle animal In confidence may bind, And make them follow at your will, If you are only kind. 275 Theodore Tilton (1835-1907) was a very brilliant New York orator, poet, and journalist. His poetry, published in a complete volume in 1897, contains some really distinguished verse. He is largely known to the new generation, however, by some stanzas from the following poem, which are usually found in readers and poetic compilations for children. The entire poem is given here. Does our "Swat the fly" campaign of recent years negate the kindly attitude emphasized in the poem? BABY BYE THEODORE TILTON Baby bye, Here's a fly; Let us watch him, you and I. How he crawls Up the walls, Yet he never falls! I believe with six such legs You and I could walk on eggs. There he goes On his toes, Tickling baby's nose. Spots of red Dot his head; Rainbows on his back are spread; That small speck Is his neck; See him nod and beck. I can show you, if you choose, Where to look to find his shoes, -- Three small pairs, Made of hairs; These he always wears. Black and brown Is his gown; He can wear it upside down; It is laced Round his waist; I admire his taste. Yet though tight his clothes are made He will lose them, I'm afraid, If to-night He gets sight Of the candle-light. In the sun Webs are spun; What if he gets into one? When it rains He complains On the window-panes. Tongue to talk have you and I; God has given the little fly No such things, So he sings With his buzzing wings. He can eat Bread and meat; There's his mouth between his feet. On his back Is a pack Like a pedler's sack. Does the baby understand? Then the fly shall kiss her hand; Put a crumb On her thumb, Maybe he will come. Catch him? No, Let him go, Never hurt an insect so; But no doubt He flies out Just to gad about. Now you see his wings of silk Drabbled in the baby's milk; Fie, oh fie, Foolish fly! How will he get dry? All wet flies Twist their thighs, Thus they wipe their head and eyes; Cats, you know, Wash just so, Then their whiskers grow. Flies have hair too short to comb, So they fly bareheaded home; But the gnat Wears a hat, Do you believe that? Flies can see More than we. So how bright their eyes must be! Little fly, Ope your eye; Spiders are near by. For a secret I can tell, -- Spiders never use flies well. Then away! Do not stay. Little fly, good-day! 276 Prominent among American writers who have contributed to the happiness of children is Lucy Larcom (1826-1893). One of a numerous family, she worked as a child in the Lowell mills, later taught school in Illinois, was one of the editors of _Our Young Folks_, and wrote a most fascinating autobiography called _A New England Girlhood_. Several of her poems are still used in schools. The one that follows is, perhaps, the most popular of these. It is semi-dramatic, and the three voices of the poem can be easily discovered. Miss Larcom's finest poem is the one entitled "Hannah Binding Shoes. " THE BROWN THRUSH LUCY LARCOM There's a merry brown thrush sitting up in the tree, He's singing to me! He's singing to me! And what does he say, little girl, little boy? "Oh, the world's running over with joy! Don't you hear? Don't you see? Hush! Look! In my tree I'm as happy as happy can be!" And the brown thrush keeps singing, "A nest do you see, And five eggs hid by me in the juniper tree? Don't meddle! Don't touch! little girl, little boy, Or the world will lose some of its joy! Now I'm glad! Now I'm free! And I always shall be, If you never bring sorrow to me. " So the merry brown thrush sings away in the tree, To you and to me, to you and to me. And he sings all the day, little girl, little boy, "Oh, the world's running over with joy!" But long it won't be, Don't you know? don't you see? Unless we are as good as can be. 277 Mrs. Child (1802-1880) was the editor of the first monthly for children in the United States, the _Juvenile Miscellany_. She wrote and compiled several works for children, and her optimistic outlook has led someone to speak of her as the "Apostle of Cheer. " She wrote a novel, _Hobomak_ (1821), which is still spoken of with respect, and she was a prominent figure in the anti-slavery agitation. The two poems following have held their own with children for reasons easily recognized. THANKSGIVING DAY LYDIA MARIA CHILD Over the river and through the wood, To grandfather's house we go; The horse knows the way To carry the sleigh Through the white and drifted snow. Over the river and through the wood-- Oh, how the wind does blow! It stings the toes And bites the nose, As over the ground we go. Over the river and through the wood, To have a first-rate play. Hear the bells ring, "Ting-a-ling-ding!" Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day! Over the river and through the wood, Trot fast, my dapple-gray! Spring over the ground, Like a hunting-hound! For this is Thanksgiving Day. Over the river and through the wood, And straight through the barnyard gate. We seem to go Extremely slow, It is so hard to wait! Over the river and through the wood-- Now grandmother's cap I spy! Hurrah for the fun! Is the pudding done? Hurrah for pumpkin-pie! 278 WHO STOLE THE BIRD'S NEST? LYDIA MARIA CHILD "To-whit! to-whit! to-whee! Will you listen to me? Who stole four eggs I laid, And the nice nest I made?" "Not I, " said the cow, "Moo-oo! Such a thing I'd never do. I gave you a wisp of hay, But didn't take your nest away. Not I, " said the cow, "Moo-oo! Such a thing I'd never do. " "To-whit! to-whit! to-whee! Will you listen to me? Who stole four eggs I laid, And the nice nest I made?" "Bob-o'-link! Bob-o'-link! Now what do you think? Who stole a nest away From the plum-tree, to-day?" "Not I, " said the dog, "Bow-wow! I wouldn't be so mean, anyhow! I gave the hairs the nest to make, But the nest I did not take. Not I, " said the dog, "Bow-wow! I'm not so mean, anyhow. " "To-whit! to-whit! to-whee! Will you listen to me? Who stole four eggs I laid, And the nice nest I made?" "Bob-o'-link! Bob-o'-link! Now what do you think? Who stole a nest away From the plum-tree, to-day?" "Coo-coo! Coo-coo! Coo-coo! Let me speak a word, too! Who stole that pretty nest From little yellow-breast?" "Not I, " said the sheep; "oh, no! I wouldn't treat a poor bird so. I gave wool the nest to line, But the nest was none of mine. Baa! Baa!" said the sheep; "oh, no, I wouldn't treat a poor bird so. " "To-whit! to-whit! to-whee! Will you listen to me? Who stole four eggs I laid, And the nice nest I made?" "Bob-o'-link! Bob-o'-link! Now what do you think? Who stole a nest away From the plum-tree, to-day?" "Coo-coo! Coo-coo! Coo-coo! Let me speak a word, too! Who stole that pretty nest From little yellow-breast?" "Caw! Caw!" cried the crow; "I should like to know What thief took away A bird's nest to-day?" "Cluck! Cluck!" said the hen; "Don't ask me again, Why, I haven't a chick Would do such a trick. We all gave her a feather, And she wove them together. I'd scorn to intrude On her and her brood. Cluck! Cluck!" said the hen, "Don't ask me again. " "Chirr-a-whirr! Chirr-a-whirr! All the birds make a stir! Let us find out his name, And all cry 'For shame!'" "I would not rob a bird, " Said little Mary Green; "I think I never heard Of anything so mean. " "It is very cruel, too, " Said little Alice Neal; "I wonder if he knew How sad the bird would feel?" A little boy hung down his head, And went and hid behind the bed, For he stole that pretty nest From poor little yellow-breast; And he felt so full of shame, He didn't like to tell his name. 279 "Susan Coolidge" was the pseudonym used by Sarah C. Woolsey (1845-1905). She wrote numerous tales and verses for young people, and her series of _Katy Books_ was widely known and enjoyed. The poem that follows is a very familiar one, and its treatment of its theme may be compared with that in Henry Ward Beecher's little prose apologue (No. 249). HOW THE LEAVES CAME DOWN "SUSAN COOLIDGE" I'll tell you how the leaves came down: The great Tree to his children said, "You're getting sleepy, Yellow and Brown, Yes, very sleepy, little Red; It is quite time to go to bed. " "Ah!" begged each silly, pouting leaf, "Let us a little longer stay; Dear Father Tree, behold our grief! 'Tis such a very pleasant day, We do not want to go away. " So, just for one more merry day To the great Tree the leaflets clung, Frolicked and danced and had their way Upon the autumn breezes swung, Whispering all their sports among, "Perhaps the great Tree will forget And let us stay until the spring, If we all beg and coax and fret. " But the great Tree did no such thing; He smiled to hear their whispering. "Come, children all, to bed, " he cried; And ere the leaves could urge their prayer, He shook his head, and far and wide, Fluttering and rustling everywhere, Down sped the leaflets through the air. I saw them; on the ground they lay, Golden and red, a huddled swarm, Waiting till one from far away, White bedclothes heaped up on her arm, Should come to wrap them safe and warm. The great bare Tree looked down and smiled. "Good-night, dear little leaves, " he said; And from below each sleepy child Replied, "Good-night, " and murmurèd, "It is _so_ nice to go to bed. " The poems for young readers produced by the sisters Alice Cary (1820-1871) and Phoebe Cary (1824-1871) constitute the most successful body of juvenile verse yet produced in this country. One of Alice Cary's poems, "An Order for a Picture, " is of a very distinguished quality, but as its appeal is largely to mature readers, two of Phoebe Cary's poems of simpler quality are chosen for use here. The first of these marks, by means of three illustrations within the range of children's observation, a very common defect of child nature and is, by the force of these illustrations, a good lesson in practical ethics. The appeal of the second is to that inherent ideal of disinterested heroism which is so strong in children. The setting of the story amidst the ever-present threat of the sea affords a good chance for the teacher to do effective work in emphasizing the geographical background. This should be done, however, not as geography merely, but with the attention on the human elements involved. 280 THEY DIDN'T THINK PHOEBE CARY Once a trap was baited With a piece of cheese; Which tickled so a little mouse It almost made him sneeze; An old rat said, "There's danger, Be careful where you go!" "Nonsense!" said the other, "I don't think you know!" So he walked in boldly-- Nobody in sight; First he took a nibble, Then he took a bite; Close the trap together Snapped as quick as wink, Catching mousey fast there, 'Cause he didn't think. Once a little turkey, Fond of her own way, Wouldn't ask the old ones Where to go or stay; She said, "I'm not a baby, Here I am half-grown; Surely, I am big enough To run about alone!" Off she went, but somebody Hiding saw her pass; Soon like snow her feathers Covered all the grass. So she made a supper For a sly young mink, 'Cause she was so headstrong That she wouldn't think. Once there was a robin Lived outside the door, Who wanted to go inside And hop upon the floor. "Ho, no, " said the mother, "You must stay with me; Little birds are safest Sitting in a tree. " "I don't care, " said Robin, And gave his tail a fling, "I don't think the old folks Know quite everything. " Down he flew, and Kitty seized him. Before he'd time to blink. "Oh, " he cried, "I'm sorry, But I didn't think. " Now my little children, You who read this song, Don't you see what trouble Comes of thinking wrong? And can't you take a warning From their dreadful fate Who began their thinking When it was too late? Don't think there's always safety Where no danger shows, Don't suppose you know more Than anybody knows; But when you're warned of ruin, Pause upon the brink, And don't go under headlong, 'Cause you didn't think. 281 THE LEAK IN THE DIKE A Story of Holland PHOEBE CARY The good dame looked from her cottage At the close of the pleasant day, And cheerily called to her little son Outside the door at play: "Come, Peter, come! I want you to go, While there is light to see, To the hut of the blind old man who lives Across the dike, for me; And take these cakes I made for him-- They are hot and smoking yet; You have time enough to go and come Before the sun is set. " Then the good-wife turned to her labor, Humming a simple song, And thought of her husband, working hard At the sluices all day long; And set the turf a-blazing, And brought the coarse black bread; That he might find a fire at night, And find the table spread. And Peter left the brother, With whom all day he had played, And the sister who had watched their sports In the willow's tender shade; And told them they'd see him back before They saw a star in sight, Though he wouldn't be afraid to go In the very darkest night! For he was a brave, bright fellow, With eye and conscience clear; He could do whatever a boy might do, And he had not learned to fear. Why, he wouldn't have robbed a bird's nest, Nor brought a stork to harm, Though never a law in Holland Had stood to stay his arm! And now, with his face all glowing, And eyes as bright as the day With the thoughts of his pleasant errand, He trudged along the way; And soon his joyous prattle Made glad a lonesome place-- Alas! if only the blind old man Could have seen that happy face! Yet he somehow caught the brightness Which his voice and presence lent; And he felt the sunshine come and go As Peter came and went. And now, as the day was sinking, And the winds began to rise, The mother looked from her door again, Shading her anxious eyes; And saw the shadows deepen And birds to their homes come back, But never a sign of Peter Along the level track. But she said: "He will come at morning, So I need not fret or grieve-- Though it isn't like my boy at all To stay without my leave. " But where was the child delaying? On the homeward way was he, And across the dike while the sun was up An hour above the sea. He was stopping now to gather flowers, Now listening to the sound, As the angry waters dashed themselves Against their narrow bound. "Ah! well for us, " said Peter, "That the gates are good and strong, And my father tends them carefully, Or they would not hold you long! You're a wicked sea, " said Peter; "I know why you fret and chafe; You would like to spoil our lands and homes; But our sluices keep you safe!" But hark! Through the noise of waters Comes a low, clear, trickling sound; And the child's face pales with terror, And his blossoms drop to the ground. He is up the bank in a moment, And stealing through the sand, He sees a stream not yet so large As his slender, childish hand. '_Tis a leak in the dike!_ He is but a boy, Unused to fearful scenes; But, young as he is, he has learned to know The dreadful thing that means. _A leak in the dike!_ The stoutest heart Grows faint that cry to hear, And the bravest man in all the land Turns white with mortal fear. For he knows the smallest leak may grow To a flood in a single night; And he knows the strength of the cruel sea When loosed in its angry might. And the boy! He has seen the danger, And, shouting a wild alarm, He forces back the weight of the sea With the strength of his single arm! He listens for the joyful sound Of a footstep passing nigh; And lays his ear to the ground, to catch The answer to his cry. And he hears the rough winds blowing, And the waters rise and fall, But never an answer comes to him, Save the echo of his call. He sees no hope, no succor, His feeble voice is lost; Yet what shall he do but watch and wait, Though he perish at his post! So, faintly calling and crying Till the sun is under the sea; Crying and moaning till the stars Come out for company; He thinks of his brother and sister, Asleep in their safe warm bed; He thinks of his father and mother, Of himself as dying--and dead; And of how, when the night is over, They must come and find him at last: But he never thinks he can leave the place Where duty holds him fast. The good dame in the cottage Is up and astir with the light, For the thought of her little Peter Has been with her all night. And now she watches the pathway, As yester eve she had done; But what does she see so strange and black Against the rising sun? Her neighbors are bearing between them Something straight to her door; Her child is coming home, but not As he ever came before! "He is dead!" she cries; "my darling!" And the startled father hears, And comes and looks the way she looks, And fears the thing she fears: Till a glad shout from the bearers Thrills the stricken man and wife-- "Give thanks, for your son has saved our land, And God has saved his life!" So, there in the morning sunshine They knelt about the boy; And every head was bared and bent In tearful, reverent joy. 'Tis many a year since then; but still, When the sea roars like a flood, Their boys are taught what a boy can do Who is brave and true and good. For every man in that country Takes his son by the hand, And tells him of little Peter, Whose courage saved the land. They have many a valiant hero, Remembered through the years: But never one whose name so oft Is named with loving tears. And his deed shall be sung by the cradle, And told to the child on the knee, So long as the dikes of Holland Divide the land from the sea! The world's greatest writer of verse for children, Robert Louis Stevenson, was born in Edinburgh, Scotland, in 1850. After he was twenty-five years old he spent much of the rest of his short life traveling in search of health. From 1889 to the time of his death in 1894 he resided in Samoa. The verses given here (Nos. 282-295) are taken from his famous book, _A Child's Garden of Verses_, which, says Professor Saintsbury, "is, perhaps, the most perfectly natural book of the kind. It was supplemented later by other poems for children; and some of his work outside this, culminating in the widely known epitaph Home is the sailor, home from sea, And the hunter home from the hill, has the rarely combined merits of simplicity, sincerity, music, and strength. " One of the best of Stevenson's poems for children outside the _Child's Garden of Verses_ is the powerfully dramatic story called _Heather Ale_. In attempting to solve the secret of Stevenson's supremacy, Edmund Gosse calls attention to the "curiously candid and confidential attitude of mind" in these poems, to the "extraordinary clearness and precision with which the immature fancies of eager childhood" are reproduced, and particularly, to the fact that they give us "a transcript of that child-mind which we have all possessed and enjoyed, but of which no one, except Mr. Stevenson, seems to have carried away a photograph. " It is this ability to hand on a photographic transcript of the child's way of seeing things that, according to Mr. Gosse, puts Stevenson in a class which contains only two other members, Hans Christian Andersen in nursery stories, and Juliana Horatia Ewing in the more realistic prose tale. Children find expressed in these poems their own active fancies. It has been objected to them that the child pictured there is a lonely child, but every child, like every mature person, has an inner world of dreams and experiences in which he delights now and then to dwell. The presence of the qualities mentioned put at least two of Stevenson's prose romances among the most splendid adventure stories for young people, _Treasure Island_ and _Kidnapped_. Perhaps no book is more popular among pupils of the seventh and eighth grades than the former. It has been called a "sublimated dime novel, " that is, it has all the decidedly attractive features of the "dime novel" plus the fine art of story-telling which is always lacking in that sensational type of story. 282 WHOLE DUTY OF CHILDREN ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON A child should always say what's true, And speak when he is spoken to, And behave mannerly at table; At least as far as he is able. 283 THE COW ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON The friendly cow all red and white, I love with all my heart: She gives me cream with all her might, To eat with apple-tart. She wanders lowing here and there, And yet she cannot stray, All in the pleasant open air, The pleasant light of day; And blown by all the winds that pass And wet with all the showers, She walks among the meadow grass And eats the meadow flowers. 284 TIME TO RISE ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON A birdie with a yellow bill Hopped upon the window-sill, Cocked his shining eye and said: "Ain't you 'shamed, you sleepy-head?" 285 RAIN ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON The rain is raining all around, It falls on field and tree, It rains on the umbrellas here, And on the ships at sea. 286 A GOOD PLAY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON We built a ship upon the stairs All made of the back-bedroom chairs, And filled it full of sofa pillows To go a-sailing on the billows. We took a saw and several nails, And water in the nursery pails; And Tom said, "Let us also take An apple and a slice of cake;"-- Which was enough for Tom and me To go a-sailing on, till tea. We sailed along for days and days, And had the very best of plays; But Tom fell out and hurt his knee, So there was no one left but me. 287 THE LAMPLIGHTER ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON My tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky; It's time to take the window to see Leerie going by; For every night at tea-time and before you take your seat, With lantern and with ladder he comes posting up the street. Now Tom would be a driver and Maria go to sea, And my papa's a banker and as rich as he can be; But I, when I am stronger and can choose what I'm to do, O Leerie, I'll go round at night and light the lamps with you! For we are very lucky, with a lamp before the door, And Leerie stops to light it as he lights so many more; And O! before you hurry by with ladder and with light, O Leerie, see a little child and nod to him to-night! 288 THE LAND OF NOD ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON From breakfast on through all the day At home among my friends I stay, But every night I go abroad Afar into the land of Nod. All by myself I have to go, With none to tell me what to do-- All alone beside the streams And up the mountain sides of dreams. The strangest things are there for me, Both things to eat and things to see, And many frightening sights abroad, Till morning in the land of Nod. Try as I like to find the way, I never can get back by day, Nor can remember plain and clear The curious music that I hear. 289 THE LAND OF STORY-BOOKS ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON At evening when the lamp is lit, Around the fire my parents sit; They sit at home and talk and sing, And do not play at anything. Now, with my little gun, I crawl All in the dark along the wall, And follow round the forest track Away behind the sofa back. There, in the night, where none can spy, All in my hunter's camp I lie, And play at books that I have read Till it is time to go to bed. These are the hills, these are the woods, These are my starry solitudes; And there the river by whose brink The roaring lion comes to drink. I see the others far away As if in firelit camp they lay, And I, like to an Indian scout, Around their party prowled about. So when my nurse comes in for me, Home I return across the sea, And go to bed with backward looks At my dear Land of Story-books. 290 MY BED IS A BOAT ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON My bed is like a little boat; Nurse helps me in when I embark: She girds me in my sailor's coat And starts me in the dark. At night, I go on board and say Good-night to all my friends on shore; I shut my eyes and sail away And see and hear no more. And sometimes things to bed I take, As prudent sailors have to do; Perhaps a slice of wedding-cake, Perhaps a toy or two. All night across the dark we steer; But when the day returns at last, Safe in my room, beside the pier, I find my vessel fast. 291 MY SHADOW ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me, And what can be the use of him is more than I can see. He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head; And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed. The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow-- Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow; For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball, And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all. He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play, And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way. He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can see; I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me! One morning, very early, before the sun was up, I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup; But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head, Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed. 292 THE SWING ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON How do you like to go up in a swing, Up in the air so blue? Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing Ever a child can do! Up in the air and over the wall, Till I can see so wide, Rivers and trees and cattle and all Over the countryside-- Till I look down on the garden green, Down on the roof so brown-- Up in the air I go flying again, Up in the air and down! 293 WHERE GO THE BOATS? ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON Dark brown is the river, Golden is the sand. It flows along forever With trees on either hand. Green leaves a-floating, Castles of the foam, Boats of mine a-boating-- Where will all come home? On goes the river And out past the mill, Away down the valley, Away down the hill. Away down the river, A hundred miles or more, Other little children Shall bring my boats ashore. 294 THE WIND ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON I saw you toss the kites on high And blow the birds about the sky; And all around I heard you pass, Like ladies' skirts across the grass-- O wind, a-blowing all day long, O wind, that sings so loud a song! I saw the different things you did, But always you yourself you hid. I felt you push, I heard you call, I could not see yourself at all-- O wind, a-blowing all day long, O wind, that sings so loud a song! O you that are so strong and cold, O blower, are you young or old? Are you a beast of field and tree, Or just a stronger child than me? O wind, a-blowing all day long, O wind, that sings so loud a song! 295 WINDY NIGHTS ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON Whenever the moon and stars are set, Whenever the wind is high, All night long in the dark and wet A man goes riding by. Late in the night when the fires are out, Why does he gallop and gallop about? Whenever the trees are crying aloud, And ships are tossed at sea, By, on the highway, low and loud, By at the gallop goes he. By at the gallop he goes, and then By he comes back at the gallop again. The four poems that follow are from _Little-Folk Lyrics_, by Frank Dempster Sherman (1860--), and are used here by permission of and special arrangement with the publishers, Houghton Mifflin Co. , Boston. Many of Sherman's poems have been found pleasing to children, particularly those dealing with nature themes and with outdoor activities. 296 SPINNING TOP FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN When I spin round without a stop And keep my balance like the top, I find that soon the floor will swim Before my eyes; and then, like him, I lie all dizzy on the floor Until I feel like spinning more. 297 FLYING KITE FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN I often sit and wish that I Could be a kite up in the sky, And ride upon the breeze, and go Whatever way it chanced to blow. Then I could look beyond the town, And see the river winding down, And follow all the ships that sail Like me before the merry gale, Until at last with them I came To some place with a foreign name. 298 KING BELL FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN Long ago there lived a King A mighty man and bold, Who had two sons, named Dong and Ding, Of whom this tale is told. Prince Ding was clear of voice, and tall, A Prince in every line; Prince Dong, his voice was very small, And he but four feet nine. Now both these sons were very dear To Bell, the mighty King. They always hastened to appear When he for them would ring. Ding never failed the first to be, But Dong, he followed well, And at the second summons he Responded to King Bell. This promptness of each royal Prince Is all of them we know, Except that all their kindred since Have done exactly so. And if you chance to know a King Like this one of the dong, Just listen once--and there is Ding; Again--and there is Dong. 299 DAISIES FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN At evening when I go to bed I see the stars shine overhead; They are the little daisies white That dot the meadows of the Night. And often while I'm dreaming so, Across the sky the Moon will go; It is a lady, sweet and fair, Who comes to gather daisies there. For, when at morning I arise, There's not a star left in the skies; She's picked them all and dropped them down Into the meadows of the town. The three poems by Eugene Field (Nos. 300-302) are used by special permission of the publishers, Charles Scribner's Sons, New York City. Field was born at St. Louis in 1850, and died at Chicago in 1895. The quaint fantastical conceptions in these poems have made them supreme favorites with children. No. 300 belongs to the list of the world's great lullabies. 300 WYNKEN, BLYNKEN, AND NOD EUGENE FIELD Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night Sailed off in a wooden shoe, -- Sailed on a river of crystal light Into a sea of dew. "Where are you going, and what do you wish?" The old moon asked the three. "We have come to fish for the herring fish That live in this beautiful sea; Nets of silver and gold have we!" Said Wynken, Blynken, And Nod. The old moon laughed and sang a song, As they rocked in the wooden shoe; And the wind that sped them all night long Ruffled the waves of dew. The little stars were the herring fish That lived in that beautiful sea-- "Now cast your nets wherever you wish, Never afeard are we!" So cried the stars to the fishermen three, Wynken, Blynken, And Nod. All night long their nets they threw To the stars in the twinkling foam, -- Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe, Bringing the fishermen home: 'Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed As if it could not be; And some folk thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed Of sailing that beautiful sea; But I shall name you the fishermen three: Wynken, Blynken, And Nod. Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes, And Nod is a little head, And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies Is a wee one's trundle-bed; So shut your eyes while Mother sings Of wonderful sights that be, And you shall see the beautiful things As you rock in the misty sea Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:-- Wynken, Blynken, And Nod. 301 THE SUGAR-PLUM TREE EUGENE FIELD Have you ever heard of the Sugar-Plum Tree? 'Tis a marvel of great renown! It blooms on the shore of the Lollypop sea In the garden of Shut-Eye Town; The fruit that it bears is so wondrously sweet (As those who have tasted it say) That good little children have only to eat Of that fruit to be happy next day. When you've got to the tree, you would have a hard time To capture the fruit which I sing; The tree is so tall that no person could climb To the boughs where the sugar-plums swing! But up in that tree sits a chocolate cat, And a gingerbread dog prowls below-- And this is the way you contrive to get at Those sugar-plums tempting you so: You say but the word to that gingerbread dog And he barks with such terrible zest That the chocolate cat is at once all agog, As her swelling proportions attest. And the chocolate cat goes cavorting around From this leafy limb unto that, And the sugar-plums tumble, of course, to the ground-- Hurrah for that chocolate cat! There are marshmallows, gumdrops, and peppermint canes With stripings of scarlet or gold, And you carry away of the treasure that rains, As much as your apron can hold! So come, little child, cuddle closer to me In your dainty white nightcap and gown, And I'll rock you away to that Sugar-Plum Tree In the garden of Shut-Eye Town. 302 THE DUEL EUGENE FIELD The gingham dog and the calico cat Side by side on the table sat; 'Twas half past twelve, and (what do you think!) Nor one nor t'other had slept a wink! The old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate Appeared to know as sure as fate There was going to be a terrible spat. (_I wasn't there; I simply state What was told to me by the Chinese plate!_) The gingham dog went "Bow-wow-wow!" And the calico cat replied "Mee-ow!" The air was littered, an hour or so, With bits of gingham and calico, While the old Dutch clock in the chimney place Up with its hands before its face, For it always dreaded a family row! (_Now mind: I'm only telling you What the old Dutch clock declares is true!_) The Chinese plate looked very blue, And wailed, "Oh, dear! what shall we do!" But the gingham dog and the calico cat Wallowed this way and tumbled that, Employing every tooth and claw In the awfullest way you ever saw-- And, oh! how the gingham and calico flew! (_Don't fancy I exaggerate-- I got my news from the Chinese plate!_) Next morning, where the two had sat They found no trace of dog or cat: And some folks think unto this day That burglars stole that pair away! But the truth about the cat and pup Is this: they ate each other up! Now what do you really think of that! (_The old Dutch clock it told me so, And that is how I came to know. _) 303 James Whitcomb Riley was born in Greenfield, Indiana, in 1849, and died at Indianapolis in 1916. His success was largely due to his ability to present homely phases of life in the Hoosier dialect. "The Raggedy Man" is a good illustration of this skill. In his prime Mr. Riley was an excellent oral interpreter of his own work, and his personifications of the Hoosier types in his poems in recitals all over the country had much to do with giving him an understanding body of readers. He had much of the power in which Stevenson was so supreme--that power of remembering accurately and giving full expression to the points of view of childhood. The perennial fascination of the circus as in "The Circus Day Parade" illustrates this particularly well. "The Treasures of the Wise Man" represents another class of Mr. Riley's poems in which he moralizes in a fashion that makes people willing to be preached at. It may be said very truly that most of his poems have their chief attraction in enabling older readers to recall the almost vanished thrilling delights of youth, but poems that do that are generally found to interest children also. THE TREASURES OF THE WISE MAN[1] JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY O the night was dark and the night was late, And the robbers came to rob him; And they picked the locks of his palace gate, The robbers that came to rob him-- They picked the locks of his palace gate, Seized his jewels and gems of state, His coffers of gold and his priceless plate-- The robbers that came to rob him. But loud laughed he in the morning red!-- For of what had the robbers robbed him?-- Ho! hidden safe, as he slept in bed, When the robbers came to rob him, -- They robbed him not of a golden shred Of the childish dreams in his wise old head-- "And they're welcome to all things else, " he said, When the robbers came to rob him. 304 THE CIRCUS-DAY PARADE[1] JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY Oh, the Circus-Day parade! How the bugles played and played! And how the glossy horses tossed their flossy manes, and neighed, As the rattle and the rhyme of the tenor-drummer's time Filled all the hungry hearts of us with melody sublime! How the grand band-wagon shone with a splendor all its own, And glittered with a glory that our dreams had never known! And how the boys behind, high and low of every kind, Marched in unconscious capture, with a rapture undefined! How the horsemen, two and two, with their plumes of white and blue, And crimson, gold and purple, nodding by at me and you, Waved the banners that they bore, as the Knights in days of yore, Till our glad eyes gleamed and glistened like the spangles that they wore! How the graceless-graceful stride of the elephant was eyed, And the capers of the little horse that cantered at his side! How the shambling camels, tame to the plaudits of their fame, With listless eyes came silent, masticating as they came. How the cages jolted past, with each wagon battened fast, And the mystery within it only hinted of at last From the little grated square in the rear, and nosing there The snout of some strange animal that sniffed the outer air! And, last of all, The Clown, making mirth for all the town, With his lips curved ever upward and his eyebrows ever down, And his chief attention paid to the little mule that played A tattoo on the dashboard with his heels, in the parade. Oh! the Circus-Day parade! How the bugles played and played! And how the glossy horses tossed their flossy manes and neighed, As the rattle and the rhyme of the tenor-drummer's time Filled all the hungry hearts of us with melody sublime! FOOTNOTE: [1] From the Biographical Edition of the _Complete Works of JamesWhitcomb Riley_. Copyright 1913. Used by special permission of thepublishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Co. 305 THE RAGGEDY MAN[2] JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY O The Raggedy Man! He works fer Pa; An' he's the goodest man ever you saw! He comes to our house every day, An' waters the horses, an' feeds 'em hay; An' he opens the shed--an' we all ist laugh When he drives out our little old wobblely calf; An' nen--ef our hired girl says he can-- He milks the cow fer 'Lizabuth Ann. -- Aint he a' awful good Raggedy Man? Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! W'y, The Raggedy Man--he's ist so good He splits the kindlin' an' chops the wood; An' nen he spades in our garden, too, An' does most things 'at _boys_ can't do!-- He clumbed clean up in our big tree An' shooked a' apple down fer me-- An' nother'n', too, fer 'Lizabuth Ann-- An' nother'n', too, fer The Raggedy Man-- Aint he a' awful kind Raggedy Man? Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! An' The Raggedy Man, he knows most rhymes An' tells 'em, ef I be good, sometimes: Knows 'bout Giunts, an' Griffuns, an' Elves, An' the Squidgicum-Squees 'at swallers therselves! An', wite by the pump in our pasture-lot, He showed me the hole 'at the Wunks is got, 'At lives 'way deep in the ground, an' can Turn into me, er 'Lizabuth Ann! Aint he a funny old Raggedy Man? Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! The Raggedy Man--one time when he Wuz makin' a little bow-'n'-orry fer me, Says "When _you're_ big like your Pa is, Air you go' to keep a fine store like his-- An' be a rich merchunt--an' wear fine clothes?-- Er what _air_ you go' to be, goodness knows!" An' nen he laughed at 'Lizabuth Ann, An' I says "'M go' to be a Raggedy Man! I'm ist go' to be a nice Raggedy Man! Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man!" FOOTNOTE: [2] From the Biographical Edition of the _Complete Works of JamesWhitcomb Riley_. Copyright 1913. Used by special permission of thepublishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Co. 306 James Hogg (1770-1835) was a poet of Scotland and a contemporary of Sir Walter Scott. He was known as the Ettrick Shepherd, from the place of his birth and from the fact that as a boy he tended the sheep. He had little schooling and was a thoroughly self-made man. The strongly marked and energetic swing of the rhythm, fitting in so well with the vigorous out-of-door experiences suggested, has made "A Boy's Song" a great favorite. Other poems of his that are still read are "The Skylark" and the verse fairy tale called "Kilmeny. " A BOY'S SONG JAMES HOGG Where the pools are bright and deep, Where the gray trout lies asleep, Up the river and o'er the lea, That's the way for Billy and me. Where the blackbird sings the latest, Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest, Where the nestlings chirp and flee, That's the way for Billy and me. Where the mowers mow the cleanest, Where the hay lies thick and greenest, There to track the homeward bee, That's the way for Billy and me. Where the hazel bank is steepest, Where the shadow falls the deepest, Where the clustering nuts fall free, That's the way for Billy and me. Why the boys should drive away Little sweet maidens from the play, Or love to banter and fight so well, That's the thing I never could tell. But this I know, I love to play, Through the meadow, among the hay; Up the river and o'er the lea, That's the way for Billy and me. 307 Mary Howitt (1799-1888), an English author and translator, was the first to put Hans Christian Andersen's tales into English. She wrote on a great variety of subjects, and much of her work was useful and pleasing to a multitude of readers old and young. Besides the following poem, she is known well to young readers by her "The Fairies of Caldon-Low. " THE SPIDER AND THE FLY MARY HOWITT "Will you walk into my parlor?" Said the Spider to the Fly; "'Tis the prettiest little parlor That ever you did spy. "The way into my parlor Is up a winding stair, And I have many curious things To show when you are there. " "Oh, no, no, " said the little Fly, "To ask me is in vain; For who goes up your winding stair Can ne'er come down again. " "I'm sure you must be weary, dear, With soaring up so high; Will you rest upon my little bed?" Said the Spider to the Fly. "There are pretty curtains drawn around; The sheets are fine and thin, And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in!" "Oh, no, no, " said the little Fly, "For I've often heard it said, They never, never wake again, Who sleep upon your bed. " Said the cunning Spider to the Fly: "Dear friend, what can I do To prove the warm affection I've always felt for you? "I have within my pantry Good store of all that's nice: I'm sure you're very welcome-- Will you please to take a slice?" "Oh, no, no, " said the little Fly, "Kind sir, that cannot be; I've heard what's in your pantry, And I do not wish to see. " "Sweet creature!" said the Spider, "You're witty and you're wise; How handsome are your gauzy wings How brilliant are your eyes! "I have a little looking-glass Upon my parlor shelf; If you'll step in one moment, dear, You shall behold yourself. " "I thank you, gentle sir, " she said, "For what you're pleased to say, And, bidding you good-morning now, I'll call another day. " The Spider turned him round about. And went into his den, For well he knew the silly Fly Would soon come back again: So he wove a subtle web In a little corner sly, And set his table ready To dine upon the Fly. Then came out to his door again, And merrily did sing: "Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, With the pearl and silver wing; "Your robes are green and purple-- There's a crest upon your head; Your eyes are like the diamond bright, But mine are dull as lead!" Alas, alas! how very soon This silly little Fly, Hearing his wily, flattering words, Came slowly flitting by; With buzzing wings she hung aloft, Then near and nearer drew, Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, And green and purple hue-- Thinking only of her crested head-- Poor, foolish thing! At last, Up jumped the cunning Spider, And fiercely held her fast. He dragged her up his winding stair, Into his dismal den, Within his little parlor-- But she ne'er came out again. And now, dear little children, Who may this story read, To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed. Unto an evil counsellor Close heart and ear and eye, And take a lesson from this tale Of the Spider and the Fly. 308 William Howitt (1792-1879) and his wife, author of the preceding poem, worked together on many literary projects. One of William Howitt's poems, "The Wind in a Frolic, " has long found a place in collections for children. It presents the wind in a sprightly, mischievous, and boisterous mood. THE WIND IN A FROLIC WILLIAM HOWITT The wind one morning sprang up from sleep, Saying, "Now for a frolic! now for a leap! Now for a madcap galloping chase! I'll make a commotion in every place!" So it swept with a bustle right through a great town, Cracking the signs and scattering down Shutters; and whisking, with merciless squalls, Old women's bonnets and gingerbread stalls, There never was heard a much lustier shout, As the apples and oranges trundled about; And the urchins that stand with their thievish eyes For ever on watch, ran off each with a prize. Then away to the field it went, blustering and humming, And the cattle all wondered whatever was coming; It plucked by the tails the grave matronly cows, And tossed the colts' manes all over their brows; Till, offended at such an unusual salute, They all turned their backs, and stood sulky and mute. So on it went capering and playing its pranks, Whistling with reeds on the broad river's banks, Puffing the birds as they sat on the spray, Or the traveller grave on the king's highway. It was not too nice to hustle the bags Of the beggar, and flutter his dirty rags; 'Twas so bold that it feared not to play its joke With the doctor's wig or the gentleman's cloak. Through the forest it roared, and cried gaily, "Now, You sturdy old oaks, I'll make you bow!" And it made them bow without more ado, Or it cracked their great branches through and through. Then it rushed like a monster on cottage and farm, Striking their dwellers with sudden alarm; And they ran out like bees in a midsummer swarm;-- There were dames with their kerchiefs tied over their caps, To see if their poultry were free from mishaps; The turkeys they gobbled, the geese screamed aloud, And the hens crept to roost in a terrified crowd; There was rearing of ladders, and logs laying on, Where the thatch from the roof threatened soon to be gone. But the wind had swept on, and had met in a lane With a schoolboy, who panted and struggled in vain; For it tossed him and twirled him, then passed, and he stood With his hat in a pool and his shoes in the mud. Then away went the wind in its holiday glee, And now it was far on the billowy sea, And the lordly ships felt its staggering blow, And the little boats darted to and fro. But lo! it was night, and it sank to rest On the sea-bird's rock in the gleaming West, Laughing to think, in its fearful fun, How little of mischief it really had done. Ann Taylor (1782-1866) and Jane Taylor (1783-1824), English writers of verse and prose for children, have earned a permanent place in the history of juvenile literature on account of the real worth of their work and because they were among the first authors to write poetry especially for children. They published jointly three volumes of verse for children: _Original Poems for Infant Minds_, _Rhymes for the Nursery_, and _Hymns for Infant Minds_. Many of their poems seem a little too didactic, but they were genuine in their ethical earnestness and largely succeeded in putting things in terms of the child's own comprehension. The four poems given here represent them at their best, which was good enough to win the admiration of Sir Walter Scott. 309 THE COW ANN TAYLOR Thank you, pretty cow, that made Pleasant milk to soak my bread, Every day and every night, Warm, and fresh, and sweet, and white. Do not chew the hemlock rank, Growing on the weedy bank; But the yellow cowslips eat, That will make it very sweet. Where the purple violet grows, Where the bubbling water flows, Where the grass is fresh and fine, Pretty cow, go there and dine. 310 MEDDLESOME MATTY ANN TAYLOR One ugly trick has often spoiled The sweetest and the best; Matilda, though a pleasant child, One ugly trick possessed, Which, like a cloud before the skies, Hid all her better qualities. Sometimes she'd lift the tea-pot lid, To peep at what was in it; Or tilt the kettle, if you did But turn your back a minute. In vain you told her not to touch, Her trick of meddling grew so much. Her grandmamma went out one day And by mistake she laid Her spectacles and snuff-box gay Too near the little maid; "Ah! well, " thought she, "I'll try them on, As soon as grandmamma is gone. " Forthwith she placed upon her nose The glasses large and wide; And looking round, as I suppose, The snuff-box too she spied: "Oh! what a pretty box is that; I'll open it, " said little Matt. "I know that grandmamma would say, 'Don't meddle with it, dear, ' But then, she's far enough away, And no one else is near: Besides, what can there be amiss In opening such a box as this?" So thumb and finger went to work To move the stubborn lid, And presently a mighty jerk The mighty mischief did; For all at once, ah! woeful case, The snuff came puffing in her face. Poor eyes, and nose, and mouth beside A dismal sight presented; In vain, as bitterly she cried, Her folly she repented. In vain she ran about for ease; She could do nothing else but sneeze. She dashed the spectacles away, To wipe her tingling eyes, And as in twenty bits they lay, Her grandmamma she spies. "Heyday! and what's the matter now?" Says grandmamma with lifted brow. Matilda, smarting with the pain, And tingling still, and sore, Made many a promise to refrain From meddling evermore. And 'tis a fact, as I have heard, She ever since has kept her word. 311 "I LIKE LITTLE PUSSY" JANE TAYLOR I like little Pussy, Her coat is so warm; And if I don't hurt her She'll do me no harm. So I'll not pull her tail, Nor drive her away, But Pussy and I Very gently will play; She shall sit by my side, And I'll give her some food; And she'll love me because I am gentle and good. I'll pat little Pussy, And then she will purr, And thus show her thanks For my kindness to her; I'll not pinch her ears, Nor tread on her paw, Lest I should provoke her To use her sharp claw; I never will vex her, Nor make her displeased, For Pussy can't bear To be worried or teased. 312 THE STAR JANE TAYLOR Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are. Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky. When the blazing sun is gone, When he nothing shines upon, Then you show your little light, Twinkle, twinkle, all the night. Then the traveler in the dark Thanks you for your tiny spark; He could not see which way to go, If you did not twinkle so. In the dark blue sky you keep, And often through my curtains peep, For you never shut your eye Till the sun is in the sky. As your bright and tiny spark Lights the traveler in the dark, Though I know not what you are, Twinkle, twinkle, little star. Although Christina G. Rossetti (1830-1894) is not known primarily as a writer for children, her _Sing-Song_, from which the next seven poems are taken, is a juvenile classic. She ranks very high among the women poets of the nineteenth century, her only equal being Mrs. Browning. Besides the brief poems in _Sing-Song_, Miss Rossetti's "Goblin Market" and "Uphill" please young people of a contemplative mood. While there is an undercurrent of sadness in much of her work, it is a natural accompaniment of her themes and is not unduly emphasized. 313 SELDOM OR NEVER CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI Seldom "can't, " Seldom "don't"; Never "shan't, " Never "won't. " 314 AN EMERALD IS AS GREEN AS GRASS CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI An emerald is as green as grass; A ruby, red as blood; A sapphire shines as blue as heaven; A flint lies in the mud. A diamond is a brilliant stone To catch the world's desire; An opal holds a fiery spark; But a flint holds fire. 315 BOATS SAIL ON THE RIVERS CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI Boats sail on the rivers, And ships sail on the seas; But clouds that sail across the sky Are prettier far than these. There are bridges on the rivers, As pretty as you please; But the bow that bridges heaven, And overtops the trees, And builds a road from earth to sky, Is prettier far than these. 316 A DIAMOND OR A COAL? CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI A diamond or a coal? A diamond, if you please; Who cares about a clumsy coal Beneath the summer trees? A diamond or a coal? A coal, sir, if you please; One comes to care about the coal At times when waters freeze. 317 THE SWALLOW CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI Fly away, fly away over the sea, Sun-loving swallow, for summer is done; Come again, come again, come back to me, Bringing the summer and bringing the sun. 318 WHO HAS SEEN THE WIND? CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI Who has seen the wind? Neither I nor you: But when the leaves hang trembling, The wind is passing thro'. Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I: But when the trees bow down their heads, The wind is passing by. 319 MILKING TIME CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI When the cows come home the milk is coming; Honey's made while the bees are humming; Duck and drake on the rushy lake, And the deer live safe in the breezy brake; And timid, funny, pert little bunny Winks his nose, and sits all sunny. 320 William Brighty Rands (1823-1882), an English author writing under the name of "Matthew Browne, " produced in his _Lilliput Lyrics_ a juvenile masterpiece containing much verse worthy to live. The two poems that follow are decidedly successful in catching that elusive something called the child's point of view. THE PEDDLER'S CARAVAN WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS I wish I lived in a caravan With a horse to drive, like a peddler-man! Where he comes from nobody knows, Or where he goes to, but on he goes! His caravan has windows two, And a chimney of tin, that the smoke comes through; He has a wife, with a baby brown, And they go riding from town to town. Chairs to mend, and delf to sell! He clashes the basins like a bell; Tea-trays, baskets ranged in order, Plates, with alphabets round the border! The roads are brown, and the sea is green, But his house is like a bathing-machine; The world is round, and he can ride, Rumble and slash, to the other side! With the peddler-man I should like to roam, And write a book when I came home; All the people would read my book, Just like the Travels of Captain Cook! 321 THE WONDERFUL WORLD WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful World, With the wonderful water round you curled, And the wonderful grass upon your breast-- World, you are beautifully dressed! The wonderful air is over me, And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree-- It walks on the water, and whirls the mills, And talks to itself on the top of the hills. You friendly Earth, how far do you go, With the wheat-fields that nod and the rivers that flow, With cities and gardens and cliffs and isles, And the people upon you for thousands of miles? Ah! you are so great, and I am so small, I hardly can think of you, World, at all; And yet, when I said my prayers to-day, My mother kissed me, and said, quite gay, "If the wonderful World is great to you, And great to father and mother, too, You are more than the Earth, though you are such a dot! You can love and think, and the Earth cannot!" 322 Richard Monckton Milnes (Lord Houghton, 1809-1885), an English poet, wrote one poem that has held its own in children's collections. Its quiet mood of industry at one with the gentler influences of nature is especially appealing. GOOD-NIGHT AND GOOD-MORNING RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES A fair little girl sat under a tree, Sewing as long as her eyes could see; Then smoothed her work and folded it right And said, "Dear work, good-night, good-night!" Such a number of rooks came over her head, Crying "Caw! Caw!" on their way to bed, She said, as she watched their curious flight, "Little black things, good-night, good-night!" The horses neighed, and the oxen lowed, The sheep's "Bleat! Bleat!" came over the road; All seeming to say, with a quiet delight, "Good little girl, good-night, good-night!" She did not say to the sun, "Good-night!" Though she saw him there like a ball of light; For she knew he had God's time to keep All over the world and never could sleep. The tall pink foxglove bowed his head; The violets curtsied, and went to bed; And good little Lucy tied up her hair, And said, on her knees, her favorite prayer. And while on her pillow she softly lay, She knew nothing more till again it was day; And all things said to the beautiful sun, "Good-morning, good-morning! our work is begun. " 323 It is quite impossible for us to realize why the English reading public should have been so excited over the following poem in the years immediately following its first appearance in 1806. It attracted the attention of royalty, was set to music, had a host of imitators, and established itself as a nursery classic. It was written by William Roscoe (1753-1831), historian, banker, and poet, for his son Robert, and was merely an entertaining skit upon an actual banquet. Probably the fact that the characters at the butterfly's ball were drawn with human faces in the original illustrations to represent the prominent guests at the actual banquet had much to do with the initial success. The impulse which it received a hundred years ago, coupled with its own undoubted power of fancy, has projected it thus far, and children seem inclined to approve and still further insure its already long life. THE BUTTERFLY'S BALL WILLIAM ROSCOE "Come, take up your hats, and away let us haste To the Butterfly's Ball and the Grasshopper's Feast, The Trumpeter, Gadfly, has summon'd the crew, And the Revels are now only waiting for you. " So said little Robert, and pacing along, His merry Companions came forth in a throng, And on the smooth Grass by the side of a Wood, Beneath a broad oak that for ages had stood, Saw the Children of Earth and the Tenants of Air For an Evening's Amusement together repair. And there came the Beetle, so blind and so black, Who carried the Emmet, his friend, on his back, And there was the Gnat and the Dragonfly too, With all their Relations, green, orange and blue. And there came the Moth, with his plumage of down, And the Hornet in jacket of yellow and brown; Who with him the Wasp, his companion, did bring, But they promised that evening to lay by their sting. And the sly little Dormouse crept out of his hole, And brought to the Feast his blind Brother, the Mole; And the Snail, with his horns peeping out of his shell, Came from a great distance, the length of an ell. A Mushroom, their Table, and on it was laid A water-dock leaf, which a table-cloth made. The Viands were various, to each of their taste, And the Bee brought her honey to crown the Repast. Then close on his haunches, so solemn and wise, The Frog from a corner look'd up to the skies; And the Squirrel, well pleased such diversion to see, Mounted high overhead and look'd down from a tree. Then out came the Spider, with finger so fine, To show his dexterity on the tight-line, From one branch to another his cobwebs he slung, Then quick as an arrow he darted along, But just in the middle--oh! shocking to tell, From his rope, in an instant, poor Harlequin fell. Yet he touch'd not the ground, but with talons outspread, Hung suspended in air, at the end of a thread. Then the Grasshopper came with a jerk and a spring, Very long was his Leg, though but short was his Wing; He took but three leaps, and was soon out of sight, Then chirp'd his own praises the rest of the night. With step so majestic the Snail did advance, And promised the Gazers a Minuet to dance; But they all laughed so loud that he pulled in his head, And went in his own little chamber to bed. Then as Evening gave way to the shadows of Night, Their Watchman, the Glowworm, came out with a light. "Then Home let us hasten while yet we can see, For no Watchman is waiting for you and for me. " So said little Robert, and pacing along, His merry Companions return'd in a throng. 324 CAN YOU? AUTHOR UNKNOWN Can you put the spider's web back in place That once has been swept away? Can you put the apple again on the bough Which fell at our feet to-day? Can you put the lily-cup back on the stem And cause it to live and grow? Can you mend the butterfly's broken wing That you crush with a hasty blow? Can you put the bloom again on the grape And the grape again on the vine? Can you put the dewdrops back on the flowers And make them sparkle and shine? Can you put the petals back on the rose? If you could, would it smell as sweet? Can you put the flour again in the husk, And show me the ripened wheat? Can you put the kernel again in the nut, Or the broken egg in the shell? Can you put the honey back in the comb, And cover with wax each cell? Can you put the perfume back in the vase When once it has sped away? Can you put the corn-silk back on the corn, Or down on the catkins, say? You think my questions are trifling, lad, Let me ask you another one: Can a hasty word be ever unsaid, Or a deed unkind, undone? 325 In 1841 Robert Browning (1812-1889) published a drama in verse entitled _Pippa Passes_. Pippa was a little girl who worked in the silkmills of an Italian city. When her one holiday of the year came, she arose early and went singing out of town to the hills to enjoy the day. Various people who were planning to do evil heard her songs as she passed and did not do the wicked things they had intended to do. The next day Pippa returned to her usual work and never knew that her songs had changed the lives of many people. The following is the first of Pippa's songs. PIPPA'S SONG ROBERT BROWNING The year's at the spring, And day's at the morn; Morning's at seven; The hill-side's dew-pearled; The lark's on the wing; The snail's on the thorn; God's in His Heaven-- All's right with the world! 326 Charles Mackay (1814-1889) was an English journalist, poet, and miscellaneous writer. He was especially popular as a writer of songs, composing both words and music. Other well-known poems of his are "The Miller of Dee" and "Tubal Cain. " "Little and Great" presents a familiar idea through a series of illustrations--the idea that great and lasting results may spring from unstudied deeds of helpfulness and love. LITTLE AND GREAT CHARLES MACKAY A traveler on a dusty road Strewed acorns on the lea; And one took root and sprouted up, And grew into a tree. Love sought its shade at evening-time, To breathe its early vows; And Age was pleased, in heats of noon, To bask beneath its boughs. The dormouse loved its dangling twigs, The birds sweet music bore-- It stood a glory in its place, A blessing evermore. A little spring had lost its way Amid the grass and fern; A passing stranger scooped a well Where weary men might turn; He walled it in, and hung with care A ladle at the brink; He thought not of the deed he did, But judged that Toil might drink. He passed again; and lo! the well, By summer never dried, Had cooled ten thousand parchèd tongues, And saved a life beside. A dreamer dropped a random thought; 'Twas old, and yet 'twas new; A simple fancy of the brain, But strong in being true. It shone upon a genial mind, And, lo! its light became A lamp of life, a beacon ray, A monitory flame. The thought was small; its issue great; A watch-fire on the hill, It sheds its radiance far adown, And cheers the valley still. A nameless man, amid the crowd That thronged the daily mart, Let fall a word of hope and love, Unstudied from the heart, -- A whisper on the tumult thrown, A transitory breath, -- It raised a brother from the dust, It saved a soul from death. O germ! O fount! O word of love! O thought at random cast! Ye were but little at the first, But mighty at the last. 327 The following poem by Mrs. Hemans (1793-1835), an English poet, is remembered for its historic interest. Louis Casabianca, a Frenchman, served on a war ship that helped convey French troops to America, to aid the colonists during the Revolution. Later, when Napoleon attempted to conquer Egypt, he was captain of the admiral's flagship during the battle of the Nile. When the admiral was killed, he took command of the fleet at the moment of defeat. He blew up his ship, after the crew had been saved, rather than surrender it. His ten-year-old son refused to leave and perished with his father. CASABIANCA FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS The boy stood on the burning deck, Whence all but him had fled; The flame that lit the battle's wreck Shone round him o'er the dead. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm; A creature of heroic blood, A proud, though child-like form. The flames rolled on; he would not go Without his father's word; That father, faint in death below, His voice no longer heard. He called aloud, "Say, father, say, If yet my task be done!" He knew not that the chieftain lay Unconscious of his son. "Speak, father!" once again he cried, "If I may yet be gone!" And but the booming shots replied, And fast the flames rolled on. Upon his brow he felt their breath, And in his waving hair, And looked from that lone post of death In still, yet brave despair. And shouted but once more aloud, "My father! must I stay?" While o'er him, fast, through sail and shroud, The wreathing fires made way. They wrapt the ship in splendor wild, They caught the flag on high, And streamed above the gallant child, Like banners in the sky. There came a burst of thunder sound: The boy, --oh! where was he? Ask of the winds, that far around With fragments strewed the sea, -- With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, That well had borne their part, -- But the noblest thing that perished there, Was that young, faithful heart. The five numbers that follow are from the works of the great English poet and mystic William Blake (1757-1827). All except the first are given in their entirety. No. 328 is made up of three couplets taken from the loosely strung together _Auguries of Innocence_. Nos. 329, 330, and 332 are from _Songs of Innocence_ (1789), where the last was printed as an introduction without any other title. No. 331 is from _Songs of Experience_ (1794). Blake labored in obscurity and poverty, though he has now come to be regarded as one of England's most important poets. It is not necessary that children should understand fully all that Blake says, but it is important for teachers to realize that most children are natural mystics and that Blake's poetry, more than any other, is the natural food for them. 328 THREE THINGS TO REMEMBER WILLIAM BLAKE A Robin Redbreast in a cage, Puts all heaven in a rage. A skylark wounded on the wing Doth make a cherub cease to sing. He who shall hurt the little wren Shall never be beloved by men. 329 THE LAMB WILLIAM BLAKE Little lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee, Gave thee life, and bade thee feed By the stream and o'er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing, woolly, bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice? Little lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Little lamb, I'll tell thee, Little lamb, I'll tell thee. He is called by thy name, For He calls himself a Lamb: He is meek and he is mild, He became a little child. I a child and thou a lamb, We are called by His name. Little lamb, God bless thee, Little lamb, God bless thee. 330 THE SHEPHERD WILLIAM BLAKE How sweet is the shepherd's sweet lot; From the morn to the evening he strays; He shall follow his sheep all the day, And his tongue shall be filled with praise. For he hears the lambs' innocent call, And he hears the ewes' tender reply; He is watchful while they are in peace, For they know when their shepherd is nigh. 331 THE TIGER WILLIAM BLAKE Tiger, tiger, burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize thy fire? And what shoulder and what art Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand formed thy dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? what dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp? When the stars threw down their spears, And water'd heaven with their tears, Did He smile His work to see? Did He who made the lamb make thee? Tiger, tiger, burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? 332 THE PIPER WILLIAM BLAKE Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me:-- "Pipe a song about a lamb": So I piped with merry cheer. "Piper, pipe that song again": So I piped; he wept to hear. "Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe, Sing thy songs of happy cheer": So I sung the same again, While he wept with joy to hear. "Piper, sit thee down and write In a book that all may read. " So he vanish'd from my sight; And I pluck'd a hollow reed, And I made a rural pen, And I stain'd the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs Every child may joy to hear. 333 Eliza Cook (1818-1889) was an English poet who had quite a vogue in her day, and whose poem "Try Again" deals with one of those incidents held in affectionate remembrance by youth. Bruce and the spider may be less historically true, but it seems destined to eternal life alongside Leonidas and his Spartans. Older readers may remember Miss Cook's "My Old Arm Chair, " which is usually given the place of honor as her most popular poem. TRY AGAIN ELIZA COOK King Bruce of Scotland flung himself down In a lonely mood to think: 'Tis true he was monarch, and wore a crown, But his heart was beginning to sink. For he had been trying to do a great deed, To make his people glad; He had tried and tried, but couldn't succeed; And so he became quite sad. He flung himself down in low despair, As grieved as man could be; And after a while as he pondered there, "I'll give it all up, " said he. Now, just at the moment, a spider dropped, With its silken, filmy clue; And the King, in the midst of his thinking, stopped To see what the spider would do. 'Twas a long way up to the ceiling dome, And it hung by a rope so fine, That how it would get to its cobweb home King Bruce could not divine. It soon began to cling and crawl Straight up, with strong endeavor; But down it came with a slippery sprawl, As near to the ground as ever. Up, up it ran, not a second to stay, To utter the least complaint, Till it fell still lower, and there it lay, A little dizzy and faint. Its head grew steady--again it went, And traveled a half yard higher; 'Twas a delicate thread it had to tread, And a road where its feet would tire. Again it fell and swung below, But again it quickly mounted; Till up and down, now fast, now slow, Nine brave attempts were counted. "Sure, " cried the King, "that foolish thing Will strive no more to climb; When it toils so hard to reach and cling, And tumbles every time. " But up the insect went once more; Ah me! 'tis an anxious minute; He's only a foot from his cobweb door. Oh, say, will he lose or win it? Steadily, steadily, inch by inch, Higher and higher he got; And a bold little run at the very last pinch Put him into his native cot. "Bravo, bravo!" the King cried out; "All honor to those who _try_; The spider up there, defied despair; He conquered, and why shouldn't I?" And Bruce of Scotland braced his mind, And gossips tell the tale, That he tried once more as he tried before, And that time did not fail. Pay goodly heed, all ye who read, And beware of saying, "I _can't_"; 'Tis a cowardly word, and apt to lead To idleness, folly, and want. Whenever you find your heart despair Of doing some goodly thing, Con over this strain, try bravely again, And remember the spider and King! 334 Nonsense verse seems to have its special place in the economy of life as a sort of balance to the over-serious tendency. One of the two great masters of verse of this sort was the English author Edward Lear (1812-1888). He was also a famous illustrator of books and magazines. Among his juvenile books, illustrated by himself, were _Nonsense Songs_ and _More Nonsense Songs_. All his verse is now generally published under the first title. Good nonsense verse precludes explanation, the mind of the hearer being too busy with the delightfully odd combinations to figure on how they happened. THE OWL AND THE PUSSY-CAT EDWARD LEAR The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea In a beautiful pea-green boat: They took some honey, and plenty of money Wrapped up in a five-pound note. The Owl looked up to the stars above, And sang to a small guitar, "O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love, What a beautiful Pussy you are, You are, You are! What a beautiful Pussy you are!" Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl, How charmingly sweet you sing! Oh! let us be married; too long we have tarried: But what shall we do for a ring?" They sailed away, for a year and a day, To the land where the bong-tree grows; And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood, With a ring at the end of his nose, His nose, His nose, With a ring at the end of his nose. "Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will. " So they took it away, and were married next day By the Turkey who lives on the hill. They dined on mince, and slices of quince, Which they ate with a runcible spoon; And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, They danced by the light of the moon, The moon, The moon, They danced by the light of the moon. 335 THE TABLE AND THE CHAIR EDWARD LEAR Said the Table to the Chair, "You can hardly be aware How I suffer from the heat And from chilblains on my feet. If we took a little walk, We might have a little talk; Pray let us take the air, " Said the Table to the Chair. Said the Chair unto the Table, "Now, you _know_ we are not able: How foolishly you talk, When you know we _cannot_ walk!" Said the Table with a sigh, "It can do no harm to try. I've as many legs as you: Why can't we walk on two?" So they both went slowly down, And walked about the town With a cheerful bumpy sound As they toddled round and round; And everybody cried, As they hastened to their side, "See! the Table and the Chair Have come out to take the air!" But in going down an alley, To a castle in a valley, They completely lost their way, And wandered all the day; Till, to see them safely back, They paid a Ducky-quack, And a Beetle, and a Mouse, Who took them to their house. Then they whispered to each other, "O delightful little brother, What a lovely walk we've taken! Let us dine on beans and bacon. " So the Ducky and the leetle Browny-mousy and the Beetle Dined, and danced upon their heads Till they toddled to their beds. 336 THE POBBLE WHO HAS NO TOES EDWARD LEAR The Pobble who has no toes Had once as many as we; When they said, "Some day you may lose them all"; He replied--"Fish fiddle-de-dee!" And his Aunt Jobiska made him drink Lavender water tinged with pink, For she said, "The world in general knows There's nothing so good for a Pobble's toes!" The Pobble who has no toes Swam across the Bristol Channel; But before he set out he wrapped his nose In a piece of scarlet flannel. For his Aunt Jobiska said, "No harm Can come to his toes if his nose is warm; And it's perfectly known that a Pobble's toes Are safe--provided he minds his nose. " The Pobble swam fast and well, And when boats or ships came near him He tinkledy-binkledy-winkled a bell, So that all the world could hear him. And all the Sailors and Admirals cried, When they saw him nearing the farther side, -- "He has gone to fish for his Aunt Jobiska's Runcible Cat with crimson whiskers!" But before he touched the shore, The shore of the Bristol Channel, A sea-green Porpoise carried away His wrapper of scarlet flannel. And when he came to observe his feet, Formerly garnished with toes so neat, His face at once became forlorn On perceiving that all his toes were gone! And nobody ever knew, From that dark day to the present, Whoso had taken the Pobble's toes, In a manner so far from pleasant. Whether the shrimps or crawfish gray, Or crafty Mermaids stole them away-- Nobody knew; and nobody knows How the Pobble was robbed of his twice five toes! The Pobble who has no toes Was placed in a friendly Bark, And they rowed him back, and carried him up To his Aunt Jobiska's Park. And she made him a feast at his earnest wish Of eggs and buttercups fried with fish;-- And she said, --"It's a fact the whole world knows, That Pobbles are happier without their toes. " 337 The two great classics among modern nonsense books are Lewis Carroll's _Alice in Wonderland_ and _Through the Looking Glass_. They are in prose with poems interspersed. "The Walrus and the Carpenter, " is from _Through the Looking Glass_, while "A Strange Wild Song, " is from _Sylvie and Bruno_. This latter book never achieved the success of its forerunners, though it has some delightful passages, as in the case of the poem given. Lewis Carroll was the pseudonym of Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (1832-1898), an English mathematician at Oxford University. THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER "LEWIS CARROLL" The sun was shining on the sea, Shining with all his might: He did his very best to make The billows smooth and bright-- And this was odd, because it was The middle of the night. The moon was shining sulkily, Because she thought the sun Had got no business to be there After the day was done-- "It's very rude of him, " she said, "To come and spoil the fun!" The sea was wet as wet could be. The sands were dry as dry. You could not see a cloud, because No cloud was in the sky; No birds were flying overhead-- There were no birds to fly. The Walrus and the Carpenter Were walking close at hand; They wept like anything to see Such quantities of sand: "If this were only cleared away, " They said, "it would be grand!" "If seven maids with seven mops Swept it for half a year, Do you suppose, " the Walrus said, "That they could get it clear?" "I doubt it, " said the Carpenter, And shed a bitter tear. "O Oysters, come and walk with us!" The Walrus did beseech. "A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk, Along the briny beach: We cannot do with more than four, To give a hand to each. " The eldest Oyster looked at him, But never a word he said: The eldest Oyster winked his eye, And shook his heavy head-- Meaning to say he did not choose To leave the oyster-bed. But four young Oysters hurried up, All eager for the treat: Their coats were brushed, their faces washed, Their shoes were clean and neat-- And this was odd, because, you know, They hadn't any feet. Four other Oysters followed them, And yet another four; And thick and fast they came at last, And more, and more, and more-- All hopping through the frothy waves, And scrambling to the shore. The Walrus and the Carpenter Walked on a mile or so, And then they rested on a rock Conveniently low: And all the little Oysters stood And waited in a row. "The time has come, " the Walrus said, "To talk of many things: Of shoes--and ships--and sealing wax Of cabbages--and kings-- And why the sea is boiling hot-- And whether pigs have wings. " "But wait a bit, " the Oysters cried, "Before we have our chat; For some of us are out of breath, And all of us are fat!" "No hurry!" said the Carpenter. They thanked him much for that. "A loaf of bread, " the Walrus said, "Is what we chiefly need: Pepper and vinegar besides Are very good indeed-- Now if you're ready, Oysters dear, We can begin to feed. " "But not on us!" the Oysters cried, Turning a little blue. "After such kindness, that would be A dismal thing to do!" "The night is fine, " the Walrus said. "Do you admire the view? "It was so kind of you to come! And you are very nice!" The Carpenter said nothing but "Cut me another slice: I wish you were not quite so deaf-- I've had to ask you twice!" "It seems a shame, " the Walrus said, "To play them such a trick, After we've brought them out so far, And made them trot so quick!" The Carpenter said nothing but "The butter's spread too thick!" "I weep for you, " the Walrus said: "I deeply sympathize. " With sobs and tears he sorted out Those of the largest size, Holding his pocket handkerchief Before his streaming eyes. "O Oysters, " cried the Carpenter, "You've had a pleasant run! Shall we be trotting home again?" But answer came there none-- And this was scarcely odd, because They'd eaten every one. 338 A STRANGE WILD SONG "LEWIS CARROLL" He thought he saw a Buffalo Upon the chimney-piece: He looked again, and found it was His Sister's Husband's Niece. "Unless you leave this house, " he said, "I'll send for the Police. " He thought he saw a Rattlesnake That questioned him in Greek: He looked again, and found it was The Middle of Next Week. "The one thing I regret, " he said, "Is that it cannot speak!" He thought he saw a Banker's Clerk Descending from the 'bus: He looked again, and found it was A Hippopotamus. "If this should stay to dine, " he said, "There won't be much for us!" He thought he saw a Kangaroo That worked a coffee-mill; He looked again, and found it was A Vegetable-Pill. "Were I to swallow this, " he said, "I should be very ill. " He thought he saw a Coach and Four That stood beside his bed: He looked again, and found it was A Bear without a Head. "Poor thing, " he said, "poor silly thing! It's waiting to be fed!" He thought he saw an Albatross That fluttered round the Lamp: He looked again, and found it was A Penny Postage-Stamp. "You'd best be getting home, " he said: "The nights are very damp!" He thought he saw a Garden Door That opened with a key: He looked again, and found it was A Double-Rule-of-Three: "And all its mystery, " he said, "Is clear as day to me!" He thought he saw an Argument That proved he was the Pope: He looked again, and found it was A Bar of Mottled Soap. "A fact so dread, " he faintly said, "Extinguishes all hope!" 339 Isaac Watts (1674-1748) was an English minister and the writer of many hymns still included in our hymn books. He had a notion that verse might be used as a means of religious and ethical instruction for children, and wrote some poems as illustrations of his theory so that they might suggest to better poets how to carry out the idea. But Watts did this work so well that two or three of his poems and several of his stanzas have become common possessions. They are dominated, of course, by the heavy didactic moralizing, but are all so genuine and true that young readers feel their force and enjoy them. AGAINST IDLENESS AND MISCHIEF ISAAC WATTS How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flower! How skilfully she builds her cell, How neat she spreads the wax! And labors hard to store it well With the sweet food she makes. In works of labor or of skill, I would be busy too; For Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do. In books, or work, or healthful play, Let my first years be past, That I may give for every day Some good account at last. 340 FAMOUS PASSAGES FROM DOCTOR WATTS O 'tis a lovely thing for youth To walk betimes in wisdom's way; To fear a lie, to speak the truth, That we may trust to all they say. But liars we can never trust, Though they should speak the thing that's true; And he that does one fault at first, And lies to hide it, makes it two. (From "Against Lying") Whatever brawls disturb the street, There should be peace at home; Where sisters dwell and brothers meet, Quarrels should never come. Birds in their little nests agree: And 'tis a shameful sight, When children of one family Fall out, and chide, and fight. (From "Love between Brothers and Sisters") How proud we are! how fond to show Our clothes, and call them rich and new! When the poor sheep and silk-worm wore That very clothing long before. The tulip and the butterfly Appear in gayer coats than I; Let me be dressed fine as I will, Flies, worms, and flowers exceed me still. Then will I set my heart to find Inward adornings of the mind; Knowledge and virtue, truth and grace, These are the robes of richest dress. (From "Against Pride in Clothes") Let dogs delight to bark and bite, For God hath made them so; Let bears and lions growl and fight, For 'tis their nature to. But, children, you should never let Such angry passions rise; Your little hands were never made To tear each other's eyes. (From "Against Quarreling and Fighting") Most of the work of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) is within the range of children's interests and comprehension. Three poems are given here, "The Skeleton in Armor, " as representative of Longfellow's large group of narrative poems, "The Day Is Done, " as an expression of the value of poetry in everyday life, and "The Psalm of Life, " as the finest and most popular example of his hortatory poems. 341 "The Skeleton in Armor" is one of Longfellow's first and best American art ballads. In Newport, Rhode Island, is an old stone tower known as the "Round Tower, " which some people think was built by the Northmen, though it probably was not. In 1836 workmen unearthed a strange skeleton at Fall River, Massachusetts. It was wrapped in bark and coarse cloth. On the breast was a plate of brass, and around the waist was a belt of brass tubes. Apparently it was not the skeleton of an Indian, and people supposed it might have been that of one of the old Norsemen. Longfellow used these two historic facts as a basis for the plot of his poem, which he wrote in 1840. THE SKELETON IN ARMOR HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW "Speak! speak! thou fearful guest! Who, with thy hollow breast Still in rude armor drest, Comest to daunt me! Wrapt not in Eastern balms, But with thy fleshless palms Stretched, as if asking alms, Why dost thou haunt me?" Then, from those cavernous eyes Pale flashes seemed to rise, As when the Northern skies Gleam in December; And, like the water's flow Under December's snow, Came a dull voice of woe From the heart's chamber. "I was a Viking old! My deeds, though manifold, No Skald in song has told, No Saga taught thee! Take heed, that in thy verse Thou dost the tale rehearse, Else dread a dead man's curse! For this I sought thee. "Far in the Northern Land, By the wild Baltic's strand, I, with my childish hand, Tamed the ger-falcon; And, with my skates fast-bound. Skimmed the half-frozen Sound, That the poor whimpering hound Trembled to walk on. "Oft to his frozen lair Tracked I the grisly bear, While from my path the hare Fled like a shadow; Oft through the forest dark Followed the were-wolf's bark, Until the soaring lark Sang from the meadow. "But when I older grew, Joining a corsair's crew, O'er the dark sea I flew With the marauders. Wild was the life we led; Many the souls that sped, Many the hearts that bled, By our stern orders. "Many a wassail-bout Wore the long Winter out; Often our midnight shout Set the cocks crowing, As we the Berserk's tale Measured in cups of ale, Draining the oaken pail, Filled to o'erflowing. "Once, as I told in glee Tales of the stormy sea, Soft eyes did gaze on me, Burning, yet tender; And as the white stars shine On the dark Norway pine, On that dark heart of mine Fell their soft splendor. "I wooed the blue-eyed maid, Yielding, yet half afraid, And in the forest's shade Our vows were plighted. Under its loosened vest Fluttered her little breast, Like birds within their nest By the hawk frighted. "Bright in her father's hall Shields gleamed upon the wall, Loud sang the minstrels all, Chanting his glory: When of old Hildebrand I asked his daughter's hand, Mute did the minstrel stand To hear my story. "While the brown ale he quaffed, Loud then the champion laughed, And as the wind-gusts waft The sea-foam brightly, So the loud laugh of scorn, Out of those lips unshorn, From the deep drinking-horn Blew the foam lightly. "She was a Prince's child, I but a Viking wild, And though she blushed and smiled, I was discarded! Should not the dove so white Follow the sea-new's flight, Why did they leave that night Her nest unguarded? "Scarce had I put to sea, Bearing the maid with me, -- Fairest of all was she Among the Norsemen!-- When on the white-sea strand, Waving his armèd hand, Saw we old Hildebrand, With twenty horsemen. "Then launched they to the blast, Bent like a reed each mast, Yet we were gaining fast, When the wind failed us; And with a sudden flaw Came round the gusty Skaw, So that our foe we saw Laugh as he hailed us. "And as to catch the gale Round veered the flapping sail, 'Death!' was the helmsman's hail, Death without quarter! Mid-ships with iron-keel Struck we her ribs of steel; Down her black hulk did reel Through the black water. "As with his wings aslant, Sails the fierce cormorant, Seeking some rocky haunt, With his prey laden; So toward the open main, Beating the sea again, Through the wild hurricane, Bore I the maiden. "Three weeks we westward bore, And when the storm was o'er, Cloud-like we saw the shore Stretching to leeward; There for my lady's bower Built I the lofty tower, Which, to this very hour, Stands looking seaward. "There lived we many years; Time dried the maiden's tears; She had forgot her fears, She was a mother; Death closed her mild blue eyes, Under that tower she lies; Ne'er shall the sun arise On such another! "Still grew my bosom then, Still as a stagnant fen! Hateful to me were men, The sunlight hateful! In the vast forest here, Clad in my warlike gear, Fell I upon my spear, Oh, death was grateful! "Thus, seamed with many scars, Bursting these prison bars, Up to its native stars My soul ascended! There from the flowing bowl Deep drinks the warrior's soul, _Skoal!_ to the Northland! _Skoal!_" --Thus the tale ended. 342 THE DAY IS DONE HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night. As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in its flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me That my soul cannot resist: A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain. Come, read to me some poem, Some simple and heartfelt lay, That shall soothe this restless feeling, And banish the thoughts of day. Not from the grand old masters, Not from the bards sublime, Whose distant footsteps echo Through the corridors of Time. For, like strains of martial music, Their mighty thoughts suggest Life's endless toil and endeavor; And to-night I long for rest. Read from some humbler poet, Whose songs gushed from his heart, As showers from the clouds of summer, Or tears from the eyelids start; Who, through long days of labor, And nights devoid of ease, Still heard in his soul the music Of wonderful melodies. Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer. Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice. And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares that infest the day, Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, And as silently steal away. 343 A PSALM OF LIFE HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream!-- For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each tomorrow Find us farther than today. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife. Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act, --act in the living Present! Heart within, and God o'erhead! Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time; Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again. Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait. 344 Historians usually mention Charles Kingsley (1819-1875) only as an English novelist, but it seems probable that eventually he will be remembered chiefly for his work in juvenile literature. His _Water Babies_ is popular with children of the fourth and fifth grade, while his book of Greek myths entitled _The Heroes_ is a classic for older children. The next two poems are popular with both adults and children. Kingsley was a minister and his church was located in Devon so that the tragedies of the sea among the fisher folk were often brought to his attention. Both these poems deal with such tragedies. THE THREE FISHERS CHARLES KINGSLEY Three fishers went sailing out into the west, -- Out into the west as the sun went down; Each thought of the woman who loved him the best, And the children stood watching them out of the town; For men must work, and women must weep; And there's little to earn, and many to keep, Though the harbor bar be moaning. Three wives sat up in the light-house tower, And trimmed the lamps as the sun went down; And they looked at the squall, and they looked at the shower, And the rack it came rolling up, ragged and brown; But men must work, and women must weep, Though storms be sudden, and waters deep, And the harbor bar be moaning. Three corpses lay out on the shining sands In the morning gleam as the tide went down, And the women are watching and wringing their hands, For those who will never come back to the town; For men must work, and women must weep, -- And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep, -- And good-by to the bar and its moaning. 345 THE SANDS OF DEE CHARLES KINGSLEY "O Mary, go and call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, And call the cattle home Across the sands of Dee!" The western wind was wild and dank with foam, And all alone went she. The western tide crept up along the sand, And o'er and o'er the sand, And round and round the sand, As far as eye could see. The rolling mist came down and hid the land: And never home came she. "Oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hair-- A tress of golden hair, A drownèd maiden's hair Above the nets at sea? Was never salmon yet that shone so fair Among the stakes on Dee. " They rowed her in across the sailing foam, The cruel crawling foam, The cruel hungry foam, To her grave beside the sea: But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home Across the sands of Dee! The next two poems, by Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892), are very well-known songs. "What Does Little Birdie Say" is the mother's song in "Sea Dreams. " "Sweet and Low" is one of the best of the lyrics in "The Princess, " and a favorite among the greatest lullabies. 346 "WHAT DOES LITTLE BIRDIE SAY?" ALFRED TENNYSON What does little birdie say, In her nest at peep of day? "Let me fly, " says little birdie, "Mother, let me fly away. " "Birdie, rest a little longer, Till the little wings are stronger. " So she rests a little longer, Then she flies away. What does little baby say, In her bed at peep of day? Baby says, like little birdie, "Let me rise and fly away. " "Baby, sleep a little longer, Till the little limbs are stronger. " If she sleeps a little longer, Baby too shall fly away. 347 SWEET AND LOW ALFRED TENNYSON Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon; Rest, rest on mother's breast, Father will come to thee soon; Father will come to his babe in the nest, Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon: Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep. 348 This poem is a great poet's expression of what a poet's ideal of his mission should be. It is summed up in the last two lines. An interesting comparison could be made of the purpose of poetry as reflected here with that suggested by Longfellow in No. 342. THE POET'S SONG ALFRED TENNYSON The rain had fallen, the Poet arose, He pass'd by the town and out of the street, A light wind blew from the gates of the sun, And waves of shadow went over the wheat, And he sat him down in a lonely place, And chanted a melody loud and sweet, That made the wild-swan pause in her cloud, And the lark drop down at his feet. The swallow stopt as he hunted the bee, The snake slipt under a spray, The wild hawk stood with the down on his beak, And stared, with his foot on the prey, And the nightingale thought, "I have sung many songs, But never a one so gay, For he sings of what the world will be When the years have died away. " 349 Those who live near the sea know that outside a harbor a bar is formed of earth washed down from the land. At low tide this may be so near the surface as to be dangerous to ships passing in and out, and the waves may beat against it with a moaning sound. In his eighty-first year Tennyson wrote "Crossing the Bar" to express his thought about death. He represents the soul as having come from the boundless deep of eternity into this world-harbor of Time and Place, and he represents death as the departure from the harbor. He would have no lingering illness to bar the departure. He would have the end of life's day to be peaceful and without sadness of farewell, for he trusts that his journey into the sea of eternity will be guided by "my Pilot. " This poem may be somewhat beyond the comprehension of eighth-grade pupils, but they can perceive the beauty of the imagery and music, and later in life it will be a source of hope and comfort. CROSSING THE BAR ALFRED TENNYSON Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home. Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For though from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crossed the bar. 350 Leigh Hunt (1784-1859) was an English essayist, journalist, and poet. His one universally known poem is "Abou Ben Adhem. " The secret of its appeal is no doubt the emphasis placed on the idea that a person's attitude toward his fellows is more important than mere professions. The line "Write me as one that loves his fellow men" is on Hunt's tomb in Kensal Green Cemetery, London. ABOU BEN ADHEM LEIGH HUNT Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw, within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold: Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, "What writest thou?"--the vision rais'd its head, And with a look made all of sweet accord, Answer'd, "The names of those that love the Lord. " "And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so, " Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then, Write me as one that loves his fellow men. " The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night It came again with a great wakening light, And show'd the names whom love of God had blest, And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. 351 Cincinnatus Heine Miller, generally known as Joaquin Miller (1841-1912), revealed in his verse much of the restless energy of Western America, where most of his life was passed. "Columbus" is probably his best known poem. "For Those Who Fail" suggests the important truth that he who wins popular applause is not usually the one who most deserves to be honored. FOR THOSE WHO FAIL JOAQUIN MILLER "All honor to him who shall win the prize, " The world has cried for a thousand years; But to him who tries and who fails and dies, I give great honor and glory and tears. O great is the hero who wins a name, But greater many and many a time, Some pale-faced fellow who dies in shame, And lets God finish the thought sublime. And great is the man with a sword undrawn, And good is the man who refrains from wine; But the man who fails and yet fights on, 'Lo! he is the twin-born brother of mine! 352 Numerous poems have been written about the futility of searching on earth for a place of perfect happiness. The next poem, by Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849), seems to deal with this subject. Some lines from Longfellow are good to suggest its special message: "No endeavor is in vain, Its reward is in the doing, And the rapture of pursuing Is the prize the vanquished gain. " ELDORADO EDGAR ALLAN POE Gaily bedight, A gallant knight, In sunshine and in shadow Had journeyed long, Singing a song, In search of Eldorado. But he grew old-- This knight so bold-- And o'er his heart a shadow Fell as he found No spot of ground That looked like Eldorado. And, as his strength Failed him at length, He met a pilgrim shadow-- "Shadow, " said he, "Where can it be-- This land of Eldorado?" "Over the mountains Of the Moon, Down the Valley of the Shadow Ride, boldly ride, " The Shade replied, "If you seek for Eldorado!" 353 Lord Byron (1788-1824) was the most popular of English poets in his day. His fame has since declined, although his fiery, impetuous nature, expressing itself in rapid verse of great rhetorical and satiric power, still reaches kindred spirits. His "Prisoner of Chillon" is often studied in the upper grades. It is full of the passion for freedom which was the dominating idea in Byron's work as it was in his life. He gave his life for this idea, striving to help the Greeks gain their independence. The poem which follows is from an early work called _Hebrew Melodies_. We learn from II Chronicles 32:21 that Sennacherib, King of Assyria, having invaded Judah, Hezekiah cried unto heaven, "And the Lord sent an angel, which cut off the mighty men of valor, and the leaders and captains in the camp of the King of Assyria. So he returned with shame of face to his own land. " Byron's title seems to indicate that Sennacherib was himself destroyed. The fine swinging measure of the lines, and the vivid picture of the destroyed hosts in contrast to the brilliant glory of their triumphant invasion, are two of the chief elements in its appeal. THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB LORD BYRON The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, The host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed; And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still! And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride: And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord. 354 The next two poems may represent the youth and the maturity of America's first great nature poet, William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878), although neither is in the style that characterizes his nature verse. He wrote "To a Waterfowl" in 1815. When he had completed his study of law, he set out on foot to find a village where he might begin work as a lawyer. He was poor and without friends. At the end of a day's journey, when he began to feel discouraged, he saw a wild duck flying alone high in the sky. Then the thought came to him that he would be guided aright, just as the bird was, and he wrote "To a Waterfowl, " the most artistic of all his poems. The poem is suitable for the seventh or eighth grade. TO A WATERFOWL WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT Whither, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along. Seek'st thou the plashy brink Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, Or where the rocking billows rise and sink On the chafed ocean-side? There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast-- The desert and illimitable air-- Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land Though the dark night is near. And soon that toil shall end; Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest, And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend, Soon, o'er thy sheltered nest. Thou'rt gone, the abyss of heaven Hath swallowed up thy form; yet, on my heart Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, And shall not soon depart. He who, from zone to zone, Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, In the long way that I must tread alone, Will lead my steps aright. 355 Bryant wrote this poem in 1849 after he had been planting fruit trees on his country place on Long Island. THE PLANTING OF THE APPLE-TREE WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT Come, let us plant the apple-tree. Cleave the tough greensward with the spade: Wide let its hollow bed be made; There gently lay the roots, and there Sift the dark mould with kindly care, And press it o'er them tenderly, As, round the sleeping infant's feet, We softly fold the cradle-sheet; So plant we the apple-tree. What plant we in this apple-tree? Buds, which the breath of summer days Shall lengthen into leafy sprays; Boughs where the thrush, with crimson breast, Shall haunt, and sing, and hide her nest; We plant, upon the sunny lea, A shadow for the noontide hour, A shelter from the summer shower, When we plant the apple-tree. What plant we in this apple-tree? Sweets for a hundred flowery springs To load the May-wind's restless wings, When, from the orchard row, he pours Its fragrance through our open doors; A world of blossoms for the bee, Flowers for the sick girl's silent room, For the glad infant sprigs of bloom, We plant with the apple-tree. What plant we in this apple-tree? Fruits that shall swell in sunny June, And redden in the August noon, And drop, when gentle airs come by, That fan the blue September sky, While children come, with cries of glee, And seek them where the fragrant grass Betrays their bed to those who pass, At the foot of the apple-tree. And when, above this apple-tree, The winter stars are quivering bright, And winds go howling through the night, Girls, whose young eyes o'erflow with mirth, Shall peel its fruit by cottage-hearth, And guests in prouder homes shall see, Heaped with the grape of Cintra's vine And golden orange of the line, The fruit of the apple-tree. The fruitage of this apple-tree Winds and our flag of stripe and star Shall bear to coasts that lie afar, Where men shall wonder at the view, And ask in what fair groves they grew; And sojourners beyond the sea Shall think of childhood's careless day, And long, long hours of summer play, In the shade of the apple-tree. Each year shall give this apple-tree A broader flush of roseate bloom, A deeper maze of verdurous gloom, And loosen, when the frost-clouds lower, The crisp brown leaves in thicker shower. The years shall come and pass, but we Shall hear no longer, where we lie, The summer's songs, the autumn's sigh, In the boughs of the apple-tree. And time shall waste this apple-tree. Oh, when its agèd branches throw Thin shadows on the ground below, Shall fraud and force and iron will Oppress the weak and helpless still? What shall the tasks of mercy be, Amid the toils, the strifes, the tears Of those who live when length of years Is wasting this apple-tree? "Who planted this old apple-tree?" The children of that distant day Thus to some agèd man shall say; And, gazing on its mossy stem, The gray-haired man shall answer them: "A poet of the land was he, Born in the rude but good old times; 'T is said he made some quaint old rhymes, On planting the apple-tree. " 356 The next poem, by the English poet Thomas Edward Brown (1830-1897), deserves to be classed with the most beautiful and artistic verse in our language. Students will notice the allusion to the biblical tradition that God walked in the Garden of Eden in the cool of the evening. MY GARDEN THOMAS EDWARD BROWN A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot! Rose plot, Fringed pool, Ferned grot-- The veriest school Of peace; and yet the fool Contends that God is not-- Not God! in gardens! when the eve is cool? Nay, but I have a sign; 'T is very sure God walks in mine. 357 William Wordsworth (1770-1850) ranks very high among English poets. He endeavored to bring poetry close to actual life and to get rid of the stilted language of conventional verse. The struggle was long and difficult, but Wordsworth lived long enough to know that the world had realized his greatness. Many of his poems are suitable for use with children. Their simplicity, their directness, and their utter sincerity made many of them, while not written especially for the young, seem as if directly addressed to the childlike mind. "We are Seven, " "Lucy Gray, " and "Michael" belong to this number, as do the two masterpieces among short poems which are quoted here. "How many people, " exclaims Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, "have been waked to a quicker consciousness of life by Wordsworth's simple lines about the daffodils, and what he says of the thoughts suggested to him by 'the meanest flower that blows'!" In both poems the imagery is of the utmost importance. Through it the reader is able to put himself with the poet and see things as the poet saw them. In "The Daffodils" the flowers, jocund in the breeze, drive away the melancholy mood with which the poet had approached them and enable him to carry away a picture in his memory that can be drawn upon for help on future occasions of gloom. In "The Solitary Reaper" the weird and haunting notes of the song coming to his ear in an unknown tongue suggest possible ideas back of the strong feeling which he recognizes in the singer. Here also, the poet's memory carries something away, "The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more. " One of the purposes in teaching poetry should be to store the mind, not with words only, but with impressions that may later be recalled to beautify and strengthen life. DAFFODILS WILLIAM WORDSWORTH I wander'd lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the Milky Way, They stretch'd in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced, but they Outdid the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed--and gazed--but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils. 358 THE SOLITARY REAPER WILLIAM WORDSWORTH Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary highland lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; Oh, listen! for the vale profound Is overflowing with the sound. No nightingale did ever chant More welcome notes to weary bands Of travelers in some shady haunt, Among Arabian sands: A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard In spring-time from the cuckoo-bird, Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides. Will no one tell me what she sings? Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago! Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again? Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang As if her song could have no ending: I saw her singing at her work, And o'er the sickle bending;-- I listen'd, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more. 359 Lady Norton (1808-1877) does not belong among the great poets, but she wrote several poems that were immense favorites with a generation now passing away. Among them are "Bingen on the Rhine, " "The King of Denmark's Ride" and the one given below. It will no doubt show that her work still has power to stir readers of the present day, although we are likely to think of her poems as being too emotional or sentimental. She wrote the words of the very popular song "Juanita. " THE ARAB TO HIS FAVORITE STEED CAROLINE E. NORTON My beautiful! my beautiful! that standest meekly by, With thy proudly arched and glossy neck, and dark and fiery eye, Fret not to roam the desert now, with all thy wingèd speed; I may not mount on thee again, --thou'rt sold, my Arab steed! Fret not with that impatient hoof, --snuff not the breezy wind, -- The farther that thou fliest now, so far am I behind; The stranger hath thy bridle-rein, --thy master hath his gold, -- Fleet-limbed and beautiful, farewell; thou'rt sold, my steed, thou'rt sold. Farewell! those free untired limbs full many a mile must roam, To reach the chill and wintry sky which clouds the stranger's home; Some other hand, less fond, must now thy corn and bed prepare, Thy silky mane, I braided once, must be another's care! The morning sun shall dawn again, but never more with thee Shall I gallop through the desert paths, where we were wont to be; Evening shall darken on the earth, and o'er the sandy plain Some other steed, with slower step, shall bear me home again. Yes, thou must go! the wild, free breeze, the brilliant sun and sky, Thy master's house, --from all of these my exiled one must fly; Thy proud dark eye will grow less proud, thy step become less fleet, And vainly shalt thou arch thy neck, thy master's hand to meet. Only in sleep shall I behold that dark eye, glancing bright;-- Only in sleep shall hear again that step so firm and light; And when I raise my dreaming arm to check or cheer thy speed, Then must I, starting, wake to feel, --thou'rt sold, my Arab steed. Ah! rudely then, unseen by me, some cruel hand may chide, Till foam-wreaths lie, like crested waves, along thy panting side: And the rich blood that's in thee swells, in thy indignant pain, Till careless eyes, which rest on thee, may count each starting vein. Will they ill-use thee? If I thought--but no, it cannot be, -- Thou art so swift, yet easy curbed; so gentle, yet so free: And yet, if haply, when thou'rt gone, my lonely heart should yearn, Can the hand which casts thee from it now command thee to return? Return! alas! my Arab steed! what shall thy master do, When thou, who wast his all of joy, hast vanished from his view? When the dim distance cheats mine eye, and through the gathering tears Thy bright form, for a moment, like the false mirage appears; Slow and unmounted shall I roam, with weary step alone, Where, with fleet step and joyous bound, thou oft hast borne me on; And sitting down by that green well, I'll pause and sadly think, "It was here he bowed his glossy neck when last I saw him drink!" When last I saw thee drink!--Away! the fevered dream is o'er, -- I could not live a day, and know that we should meet no more! They tempted me, my beautiful! for hunger's power is strong, -- They tempted me, my beautiful! but I have loved too long. Who said that I had given thee up? who said that thou wast sold? 'T is false!--'t is false, my Arab steed! I fling them back their gold! Thus, thus, I leap upon thy back, and scour the distant plains; Away! who overtakes us now shall claim thee for his pains! 360 Robert Southey (1774-1843) was poet laureate of England, and a most prolific writer of poetry and miscellaneous prose. His great prominence in his own day has been succeeded by an obscurity so complete that only a few items of his work are now remembered. Among these are "The Battle of Blenheim, " a very brief and effective satire against war, "The Well of St. Keyne, " a humorous poem based on an old superstition, and "The Inchcape Rock, " a stirring narrative of how evil deeds return upon the evil doer. (See also No. 153. ) THE INCHCAPE ROCK ROBERT SOUTHEY No stir in the air, no stir in the sea, The ship was as still as she could be; Her sails from Heaven received no motion, Her keel was steady in the ocean. Without either sign or sound of their shock, The waves flowed over the Inchcape Rock; So little they rose, so little they fell, They did not move the Inchcape Bell. The holy Abbot of Aberbrothok Had placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock; On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung, And over the waves its warning rung. When the rock was hid by the surges' swell, The mariners heard the warning bell; And then they knew the perilous Rock, And blessed the Abbot of Aberbrothok. The Sun in heaven was shining gay, All things were joyful on that day; The sea-birds screamed as they wheeled around, And there was joyance in their sound. The buoy of the Inchcape Rock was seen, A darker speck on the ocean green; Sir Ralph, the Rover, walked his deck, And he fixed his eye on the darker speck. He felt the cheering power of spring, It made him whistle, it made him sing; His heart was mirthful to excess; But the Rover's mirth was wickedness. His eye was on the Inchcape float; Quoth he, "My men, put out the boat; And row me to the Inchcape Rock, And I'll plague the Abbot of Aberbrothok. " The boat is lowered, the boatmen row, And to the Inchcape Rock they go; Sir Ralph bent over from the boat, And cut the Bell from the Inchcape float. Down sank the Bell with a gurgling sound; The bubbles rose, and burst around. Quoth Sir Ralph, "The next who comes to the Rock Will not bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok. " Sir Ralph, the Rover, sailed away, He scoured the seas for many a day; And now, grown rich with plundered store, He steers his course for Scotland's shore. So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky They cannot see the Sun on high; The wind hath blown a gale all day; At evening it hath died away. On the deck the Rover takes his stand; So dark it is they see no land. Quoth Sir Ralph, "It will be lighter soon, For there is the dawn of the rising Moon. " "Canst hear, " said one, "the breakers roar? For yonder, methinks, should be the shore. Now where we are I cannot tell, But I wish we could hear the Inchcape Bell. " They hear no sound; the swell is strong; Though the wind hath fallen, they drift along, Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock, -- "O Christ! it is the Inchcape Rock. " Sir Ralph, the Rover, tore his hair; He cursed himself in his despair. The waves rush in on every side; The ship is sinking beneath the tide. But even in his dying fear, One dreadful sound he seemed to hear, -- A sound as if, with the Inchcape Bell, The Devil below was ringing his knell. The Shakespeare passages which follow are from the fairy play "A Midsummer Night's Dream. " A teacher well acquainted with that play would find it possible to delight children with it. The fairy and rustic scenes could be given almost in their entirety, the other scenes could be summarized. 361 OVER HILL, OVER DALE WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire, I do wander everywhere, Swifter than the moon's sphere; And I serve the fairy queen, To dew her orbs upon the green. The cowslips tall her pensioners be: In their gold coats spots you see; Those be rubies, fairy favours, In those freckles live their savours: I must go seek some dewdrops here, And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. 362 A FAIRY SCENE IN A WOOD WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE FAIRY QUEEN TITANIA (_calls to her_ FAIRIES _following her_) Come, now a roundel and a fairy song; Then, for the third part of a minute, hence; Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds, Some war with rere-mice for their leathern wings, To make my small elves coats, and some keep back The clamorous owl that nightly hoots and wonders At our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep; Then to your offices and let me rest. _She lies down to sleep, and the_ FAIRIES _sing as follows_: You spotted snakes with double tongue, Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen; Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong, Come not near our fairy queen. Philomel, with melody Sing in our sweet lullaby; Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby: Never harm, Nor spell nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh: So good-night, with lullaby. Weaving spiders, come not here; Hence, you long-legged spinners, hence. Beetles black, approach not near; Worm nor snail, do no offence. Philomel, with melody Sing in our sweet lullaby; Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby: Never harm, Nor spell nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh; So, good-night, with lullaby. A FAIRY Hence, away! now all is well: One aloof stand sentinel. 363 Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882) is America's greatest spiritual teacher. His essays, such as "Self-Reliance" and "The American Scholar, " are his chief claim to fame. The two brief poems given here are well known. "Fable" should be studied along with No. 236, since they emphasize the same lesson that size is after all a purely relative matter. "Concord Hymn" is a splendidly dignified expression of the debt of gratitude we owe to the memory of those who made our country possible. Of course no reader will fail to notice the famous last two lines of the first stanza. FABLE RALPH WALDO EMERSON The mountain and the squirrel Had a quarrel, And the former called the latter "Little Prig"; Bun replied, "You are doubtless very big; But all sorts of things and weather Must be taken in together To make up a year And a sphere. And I think it no disgrace To occupy my place. If I'm not so large as you, You are not so small as I, And not half so spry. I'll not deny you make A very pretty squirrel track; Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; If I cannot carry forests on my back, Neither can you crack a nut!" 364 CONCORD HYMN RALPH WALDO EMERSON By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood, And fired the shot heard round the world. The foe long since in silence slept; Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; And Time the ruined bridge has swept Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. On this green bank, by this soft stream, We set to-day a votive stone; That memory may their deed redeem, When, like our sires, our sons are gone. Spirit, that made those heroes dare To die, and leave their children free, Bid Time and Nature gently spare The shaft we raise to them and thee. 365 Almost any of the works of Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832), whether in prose or verse, is within the range of children in the grades. Especially the fine ballads, such as "Lochinvar" and "Allen-a-Dale, " are sure to interest them. Children should be encouraged to read one of the long story-poems, "The Lady of the Lake" or "The Lay of the Last Minstrel. " The famous expression of patriotism quoted below is from the latter poem. BREATHES THERE THE MAN SIR WALTER SCOTT Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned From wandering on a foreign strand! If such there be, go, mark him well; For him no minstrel raptures swell; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim; Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentered all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored, and unsung. 366 When Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809-1894) was twenty-one years old, he read that the Navy Department had decided to destroy the old, unseaworthy frigate "Constitution, " which had become famous in the War of 1812. In one evening he wrote the poem "Old Ironsides. " This not only made Holmes immediately famous as a poet, but so aroused the American people that the Navy Department changed its plans and rebuilt the ship. OLD IRONSIDES OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES Ay, tear her tattered ensign down! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky; Beneath it rung the battle shout, And burst the cannon's roar:-- The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more. Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, Where knelt the vanquished foe, When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, And waves were white below, No more shall feel the victor's tread, Or know the conquered knee;-- The harpies of the shore shall pluck The eagle of the sea! Oh, better that her shattered hulk Should sink beneath the wave; Her thunders shook the mighty deep, And there should be her grave; Nail to the mast her holy flag, Set every threadbare sail, And give her to the god of storms, The lightning and the gale! 367 William Collins (1721-1759), English poet, wrote only a few poems, but among them is this short dirge which keeps his name alive in popular memory. It was probably in honor of his countrymen who fell at Fontenoy in 1745, the year before its composition. Its austere brevity, its well-known personifications, its freedom from fulsome expressions, place it very high among patriotic utterances. HOW SLEEP THE BRAVE WILLIAM COLLINS How sleep the brave, who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge is sung; There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there! 368 The anonymous ballad dealing with the familiar story of Nathan Hale, of Revolutionary times, is the nearest approach to the old folk ballad in our history. Its repetitions help it in catching something of the breathless suspense accompanying his daring effort, betrayal, and execution. The pathos of the closing incidents of Hale's career has attracted the tributes of poets and dramatists. Francis Miles Finch, author of "The Blue and the Gray, " wrote a well-known poetic account of Hale, while Clyde Fitch's drama of _Nathan Hale_ had a great popular success. THE BALLAD OF NATHAN HALE The breezes went steadily through the tall pines, A-saying "Oh! hu-ush!" a-saying "Oh! hu-ush!" As stilly stole by a bold legion of horse, For Hale in the bush; for Hale in the bush. "Keep still!" said the thrush as she nestled her young, In a nest by the road; in a nest by the road. "For the tyrants are near, and with them appear What bodes us no good; what bodes us no good. " The brave captain heard it, and thought of his home In a cot by the brook; in a cot by the brook; With mother and sister and memories dear, He so gayly forsook; he so gayly forsook. Cooling shades of the night were coming apace, The tattoo had beat; the tattoo had beat. The noble one sprang from his dark lurking-place, To make his retreat; to make his retreat. He warily trod on the dry rustling leaves, As he passed through the wood; as he passed through the wood; And silently gained his rude launch on the shore, As she played with the flood; as she played with the flood. The guards of the camp, on that dark, dreary night, Had a murderous will; had a murderous will. They took him and bore him afar from the shore, To a hut on the hill; to a hut on the hill. No mother was there, nor a friend who could cheer, In that little stone cell; in that little stone cell. But he trusted in love, from his Father above. In his heart, all was well; in his heart, all was well. An ominous owl, with his solemn bass voice, Sat moaning hard by; sat moaning hard by; "The tyrant's proud minions most gladly rejoice, For he must soon die; for he must soon die. " The brave fellow told them, no thing he restrained, -- The cruel general! the cruel general!-- His errand from camp, of the ends to be gained, And said that was all; and said that was all. They took him and bound him and bore him away, Down the hill's grassy side; down the hill's grassy side. 'Twas there the base hirelings, in royal array, His cause did deride; his cause did deride. Five minutes were given, short moments, no more, For him to repent; for him to repent. He prayed for his mother, he asked not another, To Heaven he went; to Heaven he went. The faith of a martyr the tragedy showed, As he trod the last stage; as he trod the last stage. And Britons will shudder at gallant Hale's blood, As his words do presage; as his words do presage: "Thou pale King of terrors, thou life's gloomy foe, Go frighten the slave; go frighten the slave; Tell tyrants, to you their allegiance they owe. No fears for the brave; no fears for the brave. " 369 That men of great courage are certain to recognize and pay tribute to courage in others, even if those others are their enemies, is the theme of "The Red Thread of Honor. " Sir Francis Hastings Doyle (1810-1888) wrote two other stirring poems of action, "The Loss of the Birkenhead" and "The Private of the Buffs. " THE RED THREAD OF HONOR FRANCIS HASTINGS DOYLE Eleven men of England A breastwork charged in vain; Eleven men of England Lie stripp'd, and gash'd, and slain. Slain; but of foes that guarded Their rock-built fortress well, Some twenty had been mastered, When the last soldier fell. The robber-chief mused deeply, Above those daring dead; "Bring here, " at length he shouted, "Bring quick, the battle thread. Let Eblis blast forever Their souls, if Allah will: But we must keep unbroken The old rules of the Hill. "Before the Ghiznee tiger Leapt forth to burn and slay; Before the holy Prophet Taught our grim tribes to pray; Before Secunder's lances Pierced through each Indian glen; The mountain laws of honor Were framed for fearless men. "Still, when a chief dies bravely, We bind with green one wrist-- Green for the brave, for heroes One crimson thread we twist. Say ye, oh gallant Hillmen, For these, whose life has fled, Which is the fitting color, The green one, or the red?" "Our brethren, laid in honor'd graves, may wear Their green reward, " each noble savage said; "To these, whom hawks and hungry wolves shall tear, Who dares deny the red?" Thus conquering hate, and steadfast to the right, Fresh from the heart that haughty verdict came; Beneath a waning moon, each spectral height Rolled back its loud acclaim. Once more the chief gazed keenly Down on those daring dead; From his good sword their heart's blood Crept to that crimson thread. Once more he cried, "The judgment, Good friends, is wise and true, But though the red be given, Have we not more to do? "These were not stirred by anger, Nor yet by lust made bold; Renown they thought above them, Nor did they look for gold. To them their leader's signal Was as the voice of God: Unmoved, and uncomplaining, The path it showed they trod. "As, without sound or struggle, The stars unhurrying march, Where Allah's finger guides them, Through yonder purple arch, These Franks, sublimely silent, Without a quickened breath, Went, in the strength of duty, Straight to their goal of death. "If I were now to ask you, To name our bravest man, Ye all at once would answer, They call'd him Mehrab Khan. He sleeps among his fathers, Dear to our native land, With the bright mark he bled for Firm round his faithful hand. "The songs they sing of Roostum Fill all the past with light; If truth be in their music, He was a noble knight. But were those heroes living, And strong for battle still, Would Mehrab Khan or Roostum Have climbed, like these, the Hill?" And they replied, "Though Mehrab Khan was brave, As chief, he chose himself what risks to run; Prince Roostum lied, his forfeit life to save, Which these had never done. " "Enough!" he shouted fiercely; "Doomed though they be to hell, Bind fast the crimson trophy Round BOTH wrists--bind it well. Who knows but that great Allah May grudge such matchless men, With none so decked in heaven, To the fiend's flaming den?" Then all those gallant robbers Shouted a stern "Amen!" They raised the slaughter'd sergeant, They raised his mangled ten. And when we found their bodies Left bleaching in the wind, Around BOTH wrists in glory That crimson thread was twined. 370 In the year 1897 a great diamond jubilee was held in England in honor of the completion of sixty years of rule by Queen Victoria. Many poems were written for the occasion, most of which praised the greatness of Britain, the extent of her dominion, the strength of her army and navy, and the abundance of her wealth. The "Recessional" was written for the occasion by Rudyard Kipling (1865--). It is in the form of a prayer, but its purpose was to tell the British that they were forgetting the "God of our fathers" and putting their trust in wealth and navies and the "reeking tube and iron shard" of the cannon. The poem rang through England like a bugle call and stirred the British people more deeply than any other poem of recent times. RECESSIONAL RUDYARD KIPLING God of our fathers, known of old-- Lord of our far flung battle-line-- Beneath whose awful hand we hold Dominion over palm and pine-- Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget! The tumult and the shouting dies-- The captains and the kings depart-- Still stands Thine ancient Sacrifice, A humble and a contrite heart. Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget! Far-called our navies sink away-- On dune and headland sinks the fire Lo, all our pomp of yesterday Is one with Nineveh and Tyre! Judge of the Nations, spare us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget! If, drunk with sight of power, we loose Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe-- Such boasting as the Gentiles use Or lesser breeds without the law-- Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget! For heathen heart that puts her trust In reeking tube and iron shard-- All valiant dust that builds on dust, And guarding calls not Thee to guard-- For frantic boast and foolish word, Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord! 371 William Ernest Henley (1849-1903) was an English critic and journalist of great force and a poet whose verse is full of manliness and tenderness. His life was a constant and courageous struggle against disease. The spirit in which he faced conditions that would have conquered a weaker man breathes through the famous poem quoted below. Such a spirit is not confined to any particular stage of maturity as represented by years, and many young people will find themselves buoyed up in the face of difficulties by coming into touch with the unconquered and unconquerable voice in this poem. The last two lines in particular are often quoted. INVICTUS WILLIAM E. HENLEY Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud: Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds and shall find me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul. 372 James Russell Lowell (1819-1891) is a poet of such high idealisms that many of his poems seem to form the natural heritage of youth. Among such are "The Vision of Sir Launfal, " "The Present Crisis, " "The Fatherland, " and "Aladdin. " "The Falcon" is not so well known as any of these, but its fine image for the seeker after truth should appeal to most children of upper grades. "The Shepherd of King Admetus" is a very attractive poetizing of an old myth (see No. 261) and lets us see something of how the public looks upon its poets and other artistic folk. THE FALCON JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL I know a falcon swift and peerless As e'er was cradled in the pine; No bird had ever eye so fearless, Or wing so strong as this of mine. The winds not better love to pilot A cloud with molten gold o'errun, Than him, a little burning islet, A star above the coming sun. For with a lark's heart he doth tower, By a glorious upward instinct drawn; No bee nestles deeper in the flower Than he in the bursting rose of dawn. No harmless dove, no bird that singeth, Shudders to see him overhead; The rush of his fierce swooping bringeth To innocent hearts no thrill of dread. Let fraud and wrong and baseness shiver, For still between them and the sky The falcon Truth hangs poised forever And marks them with his vengeful eye. 373 THE SHEPHERD OF KING ADMETUS JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL There came a youth upon the earth, Some thousand years ago, Whose slender hands were nothing worth, Whether to plough, or reap, or sow. Upon an empty tortoise-shell He stretched some chords, and drew Music that made men's bosoms swell Fearless, or brimmed their eyes with dew. Then King Admetus, one who had Pure taste by right divine, Decreed his singing not too bad To hear between the cups of wine: And so, well pleased with being soothed Into a sweet half-sleep, Three times his kingly beard he smoothed, And made him viceroy o'er his sheep. His words were simple words enough, And yet he used them so, That what in other mouths was rough In his seemed musical and low. Men called him but a shiftless youth, In whom no good they saw; And yet, unwittingly, in truth, They made his careless words their law. They knew not how he learned at all, For idly, hour by hour, He sat and watched the dead leaves fall, Or mused upon a common flower. It seemed the loveliness of things Did teach him all their use, For, in mere weeds, and stones, and springs, He found a healing power profuse. Men granted that his speech was wise, But, when a glance they caught Of his slim grace and woman's eyes, They laughed, and called him good-for-naught. Yet after he was dead and gone, And e'en his memory dim, Earth seemed more sweet to live upon, More full of love, because of him. And day by day more holy grew Each spot where he had trod, Till after-poets only knew Their first-born brother as a god. 374 Sir William S. Gilbert (1837-1911), an English dramatist, is known to us as the librettist of the popular Gilbert and Sullivan operas, _The Mikado_, _Pinafore_, etc. In his earlier days he wrote a book of humorous poetry called _The Bab Ballads_. Many of these still please readers who like a little nonsense now and then of a supremely ridiculous type. "The Yarn of the Nancy Bell" is a splendid take-off on "travelers' tales, " and is not likely to deceive anyone. However, Gilbert said that when he sent the poem to _Punch_, the editor made objection to its extremely cannibalistic nature! THE YARN OF THE NANCY BELL WILLIAM S. GILBERT 'Twas on the shores that round our coast From Deal to Ramsgate span, That I found alone on a piece of stone An elderly naval man. His hair was weedy, his beard was long, And weedy and long was he, And I heard this wight on the shore recite, In a singular minor key: "Oh, I am a cook and a captain bold, And the mate of the Nancy brig, And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig. " And he shook his fists and he tore his hair, Till I really felt afraid, For I couldn't help thinking the man had been drinking, And so I simply said: "Oh, elderly man, it's little I know Of the duties of men of the sea, And I'll eat my hand if I understand However you can be "At once a cook, and a captain bold, And the mate of the Nancy brig, And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig. " Then he gave a hitch to his trousers, which Is a trick all seamen larn, And having got rid of a thumping quid, He spun this painful yarn: "'Twas in the good ship Nancy Bell That we sailed to the Indian Sea, And there on a reef we come to grief, Which has often occurred to me. "And pretty nigh all the crew was drowned (There was seventy-seven o' soul), And only ten of the Nancy's men Said 'Here!' to the muster-roll. "There was me and the cook and the captain bold, And the mate of the Nancy brig, And the bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig. "For a month we'd neither wittles nor drink, Till a-hungry we did feel, So we drawed a lot, and accordin' shot The captain for our meal. "The next lot fell to the Nancy's mate, And a delicate dish he made; Then our appetite with the midshipmite We seven survivors stayed. "And then we murdered the bo'sun tight, And he much resembled pig; Then we wittled free, did the cook and me, On the crew of the captain's gig. "Then only the cook and me was left, And the delicate question, 'Which Of us two goes to the kettle?' arose, And we argued it out as sich. "For I loved that cook as a brother, I did, And the cook he worshipped me; But we'd both be blowed if we'd either be stowed In the other chap's hold, you see. "'I'll be eat if you dines off me, ' says Tom; 'Yes, that, ' says I, 'you'll be, '-- 'I'm boiled if I die, my friend, ' quoth I; And 'Exactly so, ' quoth he. "Says he, 'Dear James, to murder me Were a foolish thing to do; For don't you see that you can't cook me, While I can--and will--cook _you_!' "So he boils the water, and takes the salt And the pepper in portions true (Which he never forgot), and some chopped shalot, And some sage and parsley, too. "'Come here, ' says he, with a proper pride, Which his smiling features tell, ''T will soothing be if I let you see How extremely nice you'll smell. ' "And he stirred it round and round and round And he sniffed at the foaming froth; When I ups with his heels and smothers his squeals In the scum of the boiling broth. "And I eat that cook in a week or less, And--as I eating be The last of his chops, why, I almost drops, For a wessel in sight I see! * * * * * "'And I never larf, and never smile, And I never lark nor play, But sit and croak, and a single joke I have--which is to say: "'Oh, I am a cook and a captain bold, And the mate of the Nancy brig, And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig!'" 375 John T. Trowbridge (1827-1916) is one of the important figures in modern literature for young folks. He wrote a popular series of books for them beginning with _Cudjo's Cave_, and many poems, the most famous of which are "The Vagabonds" and the one given below. Trowbridge's autobiography will interest children with its story of a literary life devoted to the problems of their entertainment. "Darius Green and His Flying Machine" first appeared in _Our Young Folks_ in 1867. It is to be read for its fun--fun of dialect, fun of character, and fun of incident. If it has any lesson, it must be that dreamers may come to grief unless they have some plain practical common sense to balance their enthusiasm! DARIUS GREEN AND HIS FLYING MACHINE JOHN TOWNSEND TROWBRIDGE If ever there lived a Yankee lad, Wise or otherwise, good or bad, Who, seeing the birds fly, didn't jump With flapping arms from stake or stump, Or, spreading the tail of his coat for a sail, Take a soaring leap from post or rail, And wonder why he couldn't fly, And flap and flutter and wish and try, -- If ever you knew a country dunce Who didn't try that as often as once, All I can say is, that's a sign He never would do for a hero of mine. An aspiring genius was D. Green; The son of a farmer, --age fourteen; His body was long and lank and lean, -- Just right for flying, as will be seen; He had two eyes as bright as a bean, And a freckled nose that grew between, A little awry;--for I must mention That he had riveted his attention Upon his wonderful invention, Twisting his tongue as he twisted the strings, And working his face as he worked the wings, And with every turn of gimlet and screw Turning and screwing his mouth round too, Till his nose seemed bent to catch the scent, Around some corner, of new-baked pies, And his wrinkled cheek and his squinting eyes Grew puckered into a queer grimace, That made him look very droll in the face, And also very wise. And wise he must have been, to do more Than ever a genius did before, Excepting Daedalus of yore And his son Icarus, who wore Upon their backs those wings of wax He had read of in the old almanacs. Darius was clearly of the opinion, That the air was also man's dominion, And that with paddle or fin or pinion, We soon or late should navigate The azure as now we sail the sea. The thing looks simple enough to me; And, if you doubt it, Hear how Darius reasoned about it: "The birds can fly, an' why can't I? Must we give in, " says he with a grin, "'T the bluebird an' phoebe are smarter'n we be? Jest fold our hands, an' see the swaller An' blackbird an' catbird beat us holler? Does the leetle chatterin', sassy wren, No bigger'n my thumb, know more than men? Jest show me that! er prove 't bat Hez got more brains than's in my hat, An' I'll back down, an' not till then!" He argued further: "Ner I can't see What's the use o' wings to a bumble-bee, Fer to git a livin' with, more'n to me;-- Ain't my business importanter'n his'n is? That Icarus was a silly cuss, -- Him an' his daddy Daedalus; They might 'a' knowed wings made o' wax Wouldn't stan' sun-heat an' hard whacks: I'll make mine o' luther, er suthin' er other. " And he said to himself, as he tinkered and planned: "But I ain't goin' to show my hand To nummies that never can understand The fust idee that's big an' grand. They'd 'a' laft an' made fun O' Creation itself afore it was done!" So he kept his secret from all the rest, Safely buttoned within his vest; And in the loft above the shed Himself he locks, with thimble and thread And wax and hammer and buckles and screws, And all such things as geniuses use;-- Two bats for patterns, curious fellows! A charcoal-pot and a pair of bellows; An old hoop-skirt or two, as well as Some wire, and several old umbrellas; A carriage-cover, for tail and wings; A piece of harness; and straps and strings; And a big strong box, in which he locks These and a hundred other things. His grinning brothers, Reuben and Burke And Nathan and Jotham and Solomon, lurk Around the corner to see him work, -- Sitting cross-leggèd, like a Turk, Drawing the waxed-end through with a jerk, And boring the holes with a comical quirk Of his wise old head, and a knowing smirk. But vainly they mounted each other's backs, And poked through knot-holes and pried through cracks; With wood from the pile and straw from the stacks He plugged the knot-holes and calked the cracks; And a bucket of water, which one would think He had brought up into the loft to drink When he chanced to be dry, Stood always nigh, for Darius was sly! And, whenever at work he happened to spy, At chink or crevice a blinking eye, He let a dipper of water fly: "Take that! an', ef ever ye git a peep, Guess ye'll ketch a weasel asleep!" And he sings as he locks his big strong box; "The weasel's head is small an' trim, An' he is leetle an' long an' slim, An' quick of motion an' nimble of limb, An', ef yeou'll be advised by me, Keep wide awake when ye're ketching him!" So day after day He stitched and tinkered and hammered away, Till at last 'twas done, -- The greatest invention under the sun. "An' now, " says Darius, "hooray fer some fun!" 'Twas the Fourth of July, and the weather was dry, And not a cloud was on all the sky, Save a few light fleeces, which here and there, Half mist, half air, Like foam on the ocean went floating by, Just as lovely a morning as ever was seen For a nice little trip in a flying-machine. Thought cunning Darius, "Now I shan't go Along 'ith the fellers to see the show: I'll say I've got sich a terrible cough! An' then, when the folks have all gone off, I'll hev full swing fer to try the thing, An' practyse a little on the wing. " "Ain't goin' to see the celebration?" Says brother Nate. "No; botheration! I've got sich a cold--a toothache--I-- My gracious! feel's though I should fly!" Said Jotham, "Sho! guess ye better go. " But Darius said, "No! Shouldn't wonder 'f yeou might see me, though, 'Long 'bout noon, ef I git red O' this jumpin', thumpin' pain in my head. " For all the while to himself he said, -- "I tell ye what! I'll fly a few times around the lot, To see how 't seems; then soon's I've got The hang o' the thing, ez likely's not, I'll astonish the nation, an' all creation, By flying over the celebration! Over their heads I'll sail like an eagle; I'll balance myself on my wings like a sea-gull; I'll dance on the chimbleys; I'll stan' on the steeple; I'll flop up to winders an' scare the people! I'll light on the libbe'ty-pole, an' crow; An' I'll say to the gawpin' fools below, 'What world's this here that I've come near?' Fer I'll make 'em b'lieve I'm a chap f'm the moon; An' I'll try a race 'ith their ol' balloon!" He crept from his bed; And, seeing the others were gone, he said, "I'm a-gittin' over the cold 'n my head. " And away he sped, To open the wonderful box in the shed. His brothers had walked but a little way, When Jotham to Nathan chanced to say, "What on airth is he up to, hey?" "Don'o', --the's suthin' er other to pay, Er he wouldn't 'a' stayed to hum to-day. " Says Burke, "His toothache's all'n his eye! He never'd miss a Fo'th-o'-July, Ef he hadn't got some machine to try. " Then Sol, the little one, spoke: "By darn! Le's hurry back, an' hide'n the barn, An' pay him fer tellin' us that yarn!" "Agreed!" Through the orchard they creep back, Along by the fences, behind the stack, And one by one, through a hole in the wall, In under the dusty barn they crawl, Dressed in their Sunday garments all; And a very astonishing sight was that, When each in his cobwebbed coat and hat Came up through the floor like an ancient rat. And there they hid; and Reuben slid The fastenings back, and the door undid. "Keep dark, " said he, "While I squint an' see what the' is to see. " As knights of old put on their mail, -- From head to foot in an iron suit, Iron jacket and iron boot, Iron breeches, and on the head No hat, but an iron pot instead, And under the chin the bail, -- (I believe they call the thing a helm, --) And, thus accoutred, they took the field, Sallying forth to overwhelm The dragons and pagans that plagued the realm; So this modern knight prepared for flight, Put on his wings and strapped them tight-- Jointed and jaunty, strong and light, -- Buckled them fast to shoulder and hip, -- Ten feet they measured from tip to tip! And a helm he had, but that he wore, Not on his head, like those of yore, But more like the helm of a ship. "Hush!" Reuben said, "he's up in the shed! He's opened the winder, --I see his head! He stretches it out, an' pokes it about Lookin' to see 'f the coast is clear, An' nobody near;-- Guess he don'o' who's hid in here! He's riggin' a spring-board over the sill! Stop laffin', Solomon! Burke, keep still! He's climbin' out now--Of all the things! What's he got on? I vum, it's wings! An' that t'other thing? I vum, it's a tail! And there he sets like a hawk on a rail! Steppin' careful, he travels the length Of his spring-board, and teeters to try its strength, Now he stretches his wings, like a monstrous bat; Peeks over his shoulder, this way an' that, Fer to see 'f the's anyone passin' by; But the's o'ny a ca'f an' a goslin' nigh. They turn up at him a wonderin' eye, To see--The dragon! he's goin' to fly! Away he goes! Jimminy! what a jump! Flop--flop--an' plump to the ground with a thump! Flutt'rin' an' flound'rin', all'n a lump!" As a demon is hurled by an angel's spear, Heels over head, to his proper sphere, -- Heels over head, and head over heels, Dizzily down the abyss he wheels, -- So fell Darius. Upon his crown, In the midst of the barnyard, he came down, In a wonderful whirl of tangled strings, Broken braces and broken springs, Broken tail and broken wings, Shooting stars, and various things, -- Barnyard litter of straw and chaff, And much that wasn't so sweet by half. Away with a bellow flew the calf, And what was that? Did the gosling laugh? 'Tis a merry roar from the old barn-door, And he hears the voice of Jotham crying; "Say, D'rius! how de yeou like flyin'?" Slowly, ruefully, where he lay, Darius just turned and looked that way, As he stanched his sorrowful nose with his cuff, "Wal, I like flyin' well enough, " He said, "but the' ain't sich a thunderin' sight O' fun in't when ye come to light. " I just have room for the MORAL here: And this is the moral, --Stick to your sphere; Or, if you insist, as you have the right, On spreading your wings for a loftier flight, The moral is, --Take care how you light. 376 The poem of "Beth Gêlert" (Grave of Gêlert) is really a verse version of an old folk story that has localized itself in many places over the world. In Wales they can show you where Gêlert is buried, which illustrates how such a favorite story takes hold of the popular mind. The poem by William Robert Spencer (1769-1834) has so much of the spirit of the old ballads which it imitates that it was believed at first to be a genuine example of one. BETH GÊLERT WILLIAM ROBERT SPENCER The spearmen heard the bugle sound, And cheerly smiled the morn; And many a brach, and many a hound, Obeyed Llewellyn's horn. And still he blew a louder blast, And gave a lustier cheer, "Come, Gêlert, come, wert never last Llewellyn's horn to hear. "Oh, where does faithful Gêlert roam. The flow'r of all his race, So true, so brave, --a lamb at home, A lion in the chase?" 'Twas only at Llewellyn's board The faithful Gêlert fed; He watched, he served, he cheered his lord, And sentineled his bed. In sooth he was a peerless hound, The gift of royal John; But now no Gêlert could be found, And all the chase rode on. And now, as o'er the rocks and dells The gallant chidings rise, All Snowdon's craggy chaos yells The many-mingled cries! That day Llewellyn little loved The chase of hart and hare; And scant and small the booty proved, For Gêlert was not there. Unpleased Llewellyn homeward hied, When, near the portal seat, His truant Gêlert he espied, Bounding his lord to greet. But, when he gained his castle door, Aghast the chieftain stood; The hound all o'er was smeared with gore; His lips, his fangs, ran blood. Llewellyn gazed with fierce surprise; Unused such looks to meet, His favorite checked his joyful guise, And crouched, and licked his feet. Onward, in haste, Llewellyn passed, And on went Gêlert too; And still, where'er his eyes he cast, Fresh blood-gouts shocked his view. O'erturned his infant's bed he found, The blood-stained covert rent; And all around the walls and ground With recent blood besprent. He called his child, --no voice replied-- He searched with terror wild; Blood, blood he found on every side, But nowhere found his child. "Hell-hound! my child's by thee devoured, " The frantic father cried; And to the hilt his vengeful sword He plunged in Gêlert's side. His suppliant looks, as prone he fell, No pity could impart; But still his Gêlert's dying yell Passed heavy o'er his heart. Aroused by Gêlert's dying yell, Some slumberer wakened nigh: What words the parent's joy could tell, To hear his infant's cry! Concealed beneath a tumbled heap His hurried search had missed, All glowing from his rosy sleep, His cherub boy he kissed. Nor scathe had he, nor harm, nor dread, But, the same couch beneath, Lay a gaunt wolf, all torn and dead, Tremendous still in death. Ah! what was then Llewellyn's pain! For now the truth was clear; His gallant hound the wolf had slain To save Llewellyn's heir: Vain, vain was all Llewellyn's woe; "Best of thy kind, adieu! The frantic blow which laid thee low This heart shall ever rue. " And now a gallant tomb they raise, With costly sculpture decked; And marbles storied with his praise Poor Gêlert's bones protect. There, never could the spearman pass, Or forester, unmoved; There, oft the tear-besprinkled grass Llewellyn's sorrow proved. And there he hung his horn and spear, And there, as evening fell, In fancy's ear he oft would hear Poor Gêlert's dying yell. And, till great Snowdon's rocks grow old, And cease the storm to brave, The consecrated spot shall hold The name of "Gêlert's Grave. " 377 This old ballad is one of the best of the humorous type. Many old stories turn upon some such riddling series of questions, generally three in number, to which unexpected answers come from an unexpected quarter. Of course the questions are intended to be unanswerable. As a matter of fact they are, but a clever person may discover a riddling answer to a riddling question. King John bows, not to a master in knowledge, but to a master in cleverness. KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTERBURY An ancient story I'll tell you anon Of a notable prince, that was called King John; And he ruled England with maine and with might, For he did great wrong and maintein'd little right. And I'll tell you a story, a story so merrye, Concerning the Abbot of Canterburye; How for his house-keeping and high renowne, They rode poste for him to fair London towne. An hundred men, the king did heare say, The abbot kept in his house every day; And fifty golde chaynes, without any doubt, In velvet coates waited the abbot about. "How now, father abbot, I heare it of thee, Thou keepest a farre better house than mee, And for thy house-keeping and high renowne, I fear thou work'st treason against my crown. " "My liege, " quo' the abbot, "I would it were knowne, I never spend nothing but what is my owne; And I trust your grace will do me no deere For spending of my owne true-gotten geere. " "Yes, yes, father abbot, thy fault it is highe, And now for the same thou needest must dye; For except thou canst answer me questions three, Thy head shall be smitten from thy bodie. "And first, " quo' the king, "when I'm in this stead, With my crown of golde so faire on my head, Among all my liege-men so noble of birthe, Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worthe. "Secondlye tell me, without any doubt, How soone I may ride the whole worlde about. And at the third question thou must not shrinke, But tell me here truly what I do thinke. " "O, these are hard questions for my shallow witt, Nor I cannot answer your grace as yet; But if you will give me but three weekes space, I'll do my endeavour to answer your grace. " "Now three weekes space to thee will I give, And that is the longest thou hast to live; For if thou dost not answer my questions three, Thy lands and thy living are forfeit to mee. " Away rode the abbot all sad at that word, And he rode to Cambridge, and Oxenford; But never a doctor there was so wise, That could with his learning an answer devise. Then home rode the abbot of comfort so cold, And he mett his shephard a-going to fold: "How now, my lord abbot, you are welcome home; What newes do you bring us from good King John?" "Sad newes, sad newes, shephard, I must give; That I have but three days more to live: For if I do not answer him questions three, My head will be smitten from my bodie. "The first is to tell him there in that stead, With his crowne of golde so faire on his head, Among all his liege-men so noble of birthe, To within one penny of what he is worthe. "The seconde, to tell him without any doubt, How soone he may ride this whole worlde about: And at the third question I must not shrinke, But tell him there truly what he does thinke. " "Now cheare up, sire abbot, did you never hear yet That a fool he may learn a wise man witt? Lend me horse, and serving-men, and your apparel, And I'll ride to London to answere your quarrel. "Nay, frowne not, if it hath bin told unto mee, I am like your lordship, as ever may bee; And if you will but lend me your gowne, There is none shall knowe us at fair London towne. " "Now horses and serving-men thou shalt have, With sumptuous array most gallant and brave; With crozier, and miter, and rochet, and cope, Fit to appeare 'fore our fader the pope. " "Now welcome, sire abbot, " the king he did say, "'Tis well thou'rt come back to keepe thy day: For and if thou canst answer my questions three, Thy life and thy living both saved shall bee. "And, first, when thou see'st me here in this stead, With my crown of golde so fair on my head, Among all my liege-men so noble of birthe, Tell me to one penny what I am worthe. " "For thirty pence our Saviour was sold Among the false Jewes, as I have bin told: And twenty-nine is the worth of thee, For I thinke, thou art one penny worser than Hee. " The king he laugh'd, and swore by St. Bittel, "I did not think I had been worth so littel! --Now secondly, tell me, without any doubt, How soone I may ride this whole world about. " "You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same, Until the next morning he riseth againe; And then your grace need not make any doubt, But in twenty-four hours you'll ride it about. " The king he laugh'd, and swore by St. Jone, "I did not think it could be done so soone! --Now from the third question you must not shrinke, But tell me here truly what I do thinke. " "Yes, that shall I do and make your grace merry: You thinke I'm the Abbot of Canterburye; But I'm his poor shephard, as plain you may see, That am come to beg pardon for him and for mee. " The king he laughed, and swore by the masse, "I'll make thee lord abbot this day in his place!" "Now nay, my liege, be not in such speede, For alacke I can neither write, ne reade. " "Four nobles a weeke, then, I will give thee, For this merry jest thou hast showne unto me; And tell the old abbot, when thou comest home, Thou hast brought him a pardon from good King John. " SECTION VIII REALISTIC STORIES BIBLIOGRAPHY ARRANGED CHRONOLOGICALLY AS A BASIS FOR TRACING THE DEVELOPMENT OF THEREALISTIC STORY FOR YOUNG PEOPLE Most of the authors in the following list wrote other books of a realistic nature, in some cases greater books than the one mentioned. The book named is usually the first important one in this field by its author and has, therefore, unusual historical value. 1765. Goldsmith, Oliver, _The History of Little Goody Two-Shoes_. 1783-1789. Day, Thomas, _The History of Sandford and Merton_. 1792-1796. Aikin, Dr. John, and Barbauld, Mrs. L. E. , _Evenings at Home_. [?]-1795. More, Hannah, _The Shepherd of Salisbury Plain_. 1796-1800. Edgeworth, Maria, _The Parent's Assistant, or Stories for Children_. 1808. Lamb, Mary and Charles, _Mrs. Leicester's School_. 1818. Sherwood, Mrs. M. M. , _The History of the Fairchild Family_. 1840. Dana, Richard Henry, _Two Years Before the Mast_. 1841. Martineau, Harriet, _The Crofton Boys_. 1856. Yonge, Charlotte M. , _The Daisy Chain_. 1857. Hughes, Thomas, _Tom Brown's School Days_. 1863. Whitney, Mrs. A. D. T. , _Faith Gartney's Girlhood_. 1864. Trowbridge, J. T. , _Cudjo's Cave_. 1865. Dodge, Mary Mapes, _Hans Brinker, or the Silver Skates_. 1867. Kaler, James Otis, _Toby Tyler, or Ten Weeks with a Circus_. 1868. Alcott, Louisa May, _Little Women_. 1868. Hale, Edward Everett, _The Man without a Country_. 1871. Eggleston, Edward, _The Hoosier Schoolmaster_. 1876. Twain, Mark, _Adventures of Tom Sawyer_. 1878. Jackson, Helen Hunt, _Nelly's Silver Mine_. 1879. Ewing, Juliana Horatia, _Jackanapes_. 1882. Hale, Lucretia P. , _Peterkin Papers_. 1883. Stevenson, Robert Louis, _Treasure Island_. 1887. Wiggin, Kate Douglas, _The Birds' Christmas Carol_. 1890. Jewett, Sarah Orne, _Betty Leicester_. 1895. Bennett, John, _Master Skylark_. 1897. Kipling, Rudyard, _Captains Courageous_. 1899. Garland, Hamlin, _Boy Life on the Prairie_. 1906. Stein, Evaleen, _Gabriel and the Hour-Book_. 1908. Montgomery, L. M. , _Anne of Green Gables_. 1912. Masefield, John, _Jim Davis_. 1917. Crownfield, Gertrude, _The Little Taylor of the Winding Way_. 1920. Latham, Harold S. , _Jimmy Quigg, Office Boy_. SECTION VIII. REALISTIC STORIES INTRODUCTORY _Origin. _ The history of realistic stories for children may well beginwith the interest in juvenile education awakened by the great Frenchteacher and author Rousseau (1712-1778). He taught that formal methodsshould be discarded in juvenile education and that children should betaught to know the things about them. The new method of education isillustrated, probably unintentionally, in _The Renowned History ofLittle Goody Two-Shoes_, the first selection in this section. Rousseaudirectly influenced the thought of such writers as Thomas Day, MariaEdgeworth, Dr. Aiken, and Mrs. Barbauld. The stories produced by theseauthors in the last quarter of the eighteenth century are among thefirst written primarily for the purpose of entertaining children. Tothese writers we are indebted for the creation of types of children'sliterature that modern authors have developed into the fascinatingstories of child life, the thrilling stories of adventure, and theinteresting accounts of nature that now abound in libraries and bookstores. _The didactic period. _ When we read these first stories written for theentertainment of children, we can hardly fail to observe that each onepresents a lesson, either moral or practical. The didactic purpose is soprominent that the term "Didactic Period" may be applied to the periodfrom 1765 (the publication of _Goody Two-Shoes_) to 1825, or even later. The small amount of writing for children before this period waspractically all for the purpose of moral or religious instruction; henceit was but natural for these first writers of juvenile entertainmentstories to feel it their duty to present moral and practical lessons. Itwould be a mistake, however, to assume that these quaint old storieswould not be interesting to children today, for they deal withfundamental truths, which are new and interesting to children of allages. In addition to the writers already mentioned, and represented byselections in the following pages, there were several others whose booksare yet accessible and now and then read for their historical interestif not for any intrinsic literary value they may possess. One of thesewas Mrs. Sarah K. Trimmer (1741-1810), who, associated with the earlydays of the Sunday-school movement, wrote many books full of theoverwrought piety which was supposed to be necessary for children ofthat earlier time. One of her books, _The History of the Robins_, standsout from the mass for its strong appeal of simple incident, and is stillwidely popular with very young readers. Hannah More (1745-1833) occupieda prominent place in the thought of her day as a teacher of religiousand social ideas among the poorer classes. Her _Repository Tracts_, manyof them in the form of stories, were devoted to making the poorcontented with their lot through the consolations of a pious life. "TheShepherd of Salisbury Plain" was the most famous of these story-tracts, and there are still many people living whose childhood was fed upon thisand like stories. Mrs. Sherwood's _History of the Fairchild Family_ hasnever been out of print since the date of its first publication (1818), and in recent years has had two or three sumptuous revivals at the handsof editors and publishers. The almost innumerable books of Jacob Abbottand S. G. Goodrich ("Peter Parley") in America belong to this didacticmovement. They were, however, more devoted to the process of instillinga knowledge of all the wonders of this great world round about us, andwere considerably less pietistic than their English neighbors. _TheRollo Books_ (24 vols. ) are typical of this school. _The modern period. _ Charles Lamb apparently was one of the first to getthe modern thought that literature for children should be just asartistic, just as dignified in its presentation of truth, and just asworthy of literary recognition, as literature for adults. In the hundredyears since Lamb advanced his theory, students have gradually come torecognize the fact that good literature for children is also goodliterature for adults because art is art, whatever its form. In thisconnection, Lamb's feeling about the necessity for making children'sbooks more vital found expression in a famous and much-quoted passage ina letter to Coleridge: "_Goody Two-Shoes_ is almost out of print. Mrs. Barbauld's stuff has banished all the old classics of the nursery; and the shopman at Newbery's hardly deigned to reach them off an old exploded corner of a shelf, when Mary asked for them. Mrs. B. 's and Mrs. Trimmer's nonsense lay in piles about. Knowledge insignificant and vapid as Mrs. Barbauld's books convey, it seems must come to a child in the _shape of knowledge_, and his empty noodle must be turned with conceit of his own powers when he has learnt that a horse is an animal, and Billy is better than a horse, and such like; instead of that beautiful interest in wild tales, which made the child a man, while all the while he suspected himself to be no bigger than a child. Science has succeeded to poetry no less in the little walks of children than with men. Is there no possibility of averting this sore evil? Think what you would have been now, if, instead of being fed with tales and old wives' fables in childhood, you had been crammed with geography and natural history!" The danger Lamb saw was averted. The bibliography on a preceding pageindicates that about the middle of the nineteenth century many writersof first-rate literary ability began to write for young people. Amongthe number were Harriet Martineau, Captain Marryat, Charlotte M. Yonge, Thomas Hughes, and others. As we pass toward the end of that century andthe beginning of the twentieth, the great names associated with juvenileclassics are very noticeable, and with Miss Alcott, Mrs. Ewing, "MarkTwain, " Stevenson, Kipling, Masefield, and a kindred host, childhood hascome into its own. SUGGESTIONS FOR READING For tracing the stages in the development of writing for children consult the books named in the General Bibliography (p. 17, II, "Historical Development. ") 378 Among those authors of the past whom the present still regards affectionately, Oliver Goldsmith (1728-1774) holds a high place. At least five of his works--a novel, a poem, a play, a book of essays, a nursery story--rank as classics. He had many faults; he was vain, improvident almost beyond belief, certainly dissipated throughout a part of his life. But with all these faults he had the saving grace of humor, a kind heart that led him to share even his last penny with one in need, a genius for friendships that united him with such men as Burke and Johnson and Reynolds. Always "hard up, " he wrote much as a publisher's "hack" in order merely to live. It was in this capacity that he probably wrote the famous story that follows--a story that stands at the beginning of the long and constantly broadening current of modern literature for children. While it has generally been attributed to Goldsmith, no positive evidence of his authorship has been discovered. It was published at a time when he was in the employ of John Newbery, the London publisher, who issued many books for children. We know that Goldsmith helped with the _Mother Goose's Melody_ and other projects of Newbery, and there are many reasons for supposing that the general attribution of _Goody Two-Shoes_ to him may be correct. Charles Welsh, who edited the best recent edition for schools, says it "will always deserve a place among the classics of childhood for its literary merit, the purity and loftiness of its tone, and its sound sense, while the whimsical, confidential, affectionate style which the author employs, makes it attractive even to children who have long since passed the spelling-book stage. " The version that follows has been shortened by the omission of passages that have less importance for the modern child than they may have had for that of the eighteenth century. The story is thus rendered more compact, and contains nothing to draw attention away from the fine qualities mentioned above. The quaint phrasing of the title, in itself one of the proofs of Goldsmith's authorship, furnishes a good comment on the meaning of the story: "The history of little Goody Two-Shoes/otherwise called Mrs. Margery Two-Shoes/the means by which she acquired her learning and wisdom, and in consequence thereof her estate; set forth at large for the benefit of those/ Who from a state of Rags and Care, And having Shoes but half a Pair; Their Fortune and their fame would fix, And gallop in a Coach and Six. " [For the benefit of those who may overlook the point, it may be explained that "Mrs. " was formerly used as a term of dignified courtesy applied to both married and unmarried women. ] THE RENOWNED HISTORY OF LITTLE GOODY TWO-SHOES ASCRIBED TO OLIVER GOLDSMITH All the world must allow that Two-Shoes was not her real name. No; herfather's name was Meanwell, and he was for many years a considerablefarmer in the parish where Margery was born; but by the misfortuneswhich he met with in business, and the wicked persecutions of SirTimothy Gripe, and an overgrown farmer called Graspall, he waseffectually ruined. These men turned the farmer, his wife, LittleMargery, and her brother out of doors, without any of the necessaries oflife to support them. Care and discontent shortened the days of Little Margery's father. Hewas seized with a violent fever, and died miserably. Margery's poormother survived the loss of her husband but a few days, and died of abroken heart, leaving Margery and her little brother to the wide world. It would have excited your pity and done your heart good to have seenhow fond these two little ones were of each other, and how, hand inhand, they trotted about. They were both very ragged, and Tommy had no shoes, and Margery had butone. They had nothing, poor things, to support them but what they pickedfrom the hedges or got from the poor people, and they lay every night ina barn. Their relatives took no notice of them; no, they were rich, andashamed to own such a poor little ragged girl as Margery and such adirty little curl-pated boy as Tommy. But such wicked folks, who lovenothing but money and are proud and despise the poor, never come to anygood in the end, as we shall see by and by. Mr. Smith was a very worthy clergyman who lived in the parish whereLittle Margery and Tommy were born; and having a relative come to seehim, he sent for these children. The gentleman ordered Little Margery anew pair of shoes, gave Mr. Smith some money to buy her clothes, andsaid he would take Tommy and make him a little sailor. The parting between these two little children was very affecting. Tommycried, and Margery cried, and they kissed each other an hundred times. At last Tommy wiped off her tears with the end of his jacket, and bidher cry no more, for he would come to her again when he returned fromsea. As soon as Little Margery got up the next morning, which was very early, she ran all round the village, crying for her brother; and after sometime returned greatly distressed. However, at this instant, theshoemaker came in with the new shoes, for which she had been measured bythe gentleman's order. Nothing could have supported Little Margery under the affliction she wasin for the loss of her brother but the pleasure she took in her twoshoes. She ran out to Mrs. Smith as soon as they were put on, and, stroking down her ragged apron, cried out, "Two shoes, mamma, see, twoshoes!" And she so behaved to all the people she met, and by that means obtainedthe name of Goody Two-Shoes, though her playmates called her Old GoodyTwo-Shoes. Little Margery was very happy in being with Mr. And Mrs. Smith, who werevery charitable and good to her, and had agreed to breed her up withtheir family. But at last they were obliged to send her away, for thepeople who had ruined her father commanded them to do this, and could atany time have ruined them. Little Margery saw how good and how wise Mr. Smith was, and concludedthat this was owing to his great learning; therefore she wanted, of allthings, to learn to read. For this purpose she used to meet the littleboys and girls as they came from school, borrow their books, and sitdown and read till they returned. By this means she soon got morelearning than any of her playmates, and laid the following scheme forinstructing those who were more ignorant than herself. She found thatonly the following letters were required to spell all the words in theworld; but as some of these letters are large and some small, she withher knife cut out of several pieces of wood ten sets of each of these: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z And six sets of these: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z And having got an old spelling-book, she made her companions set up allthe words they wanted to spell, and after that she taught them tocompose sentences. You know what a sentence is, my dear. _I will begood_, is a sentence; and is made up, as you see, of several words. Every morning she used to go round to teach the children, with theserattletraps in a basket. I once went her rounds with her. It was aboutseven o'clock in the morning when we set out on this important business, and the first house we came to was Farmer Wilson's. Here Margerystopped, and ran up to the door, tap, tap, tap. "Who's there?" "Only little Goody Two-Shoes, " answered Margery, "come to teach Billy. " "Oh! little Goody, " said Mrs. Wilson, with pleasure in her face, "I amglad to see you. Billy wants you sadly, for he has learned all hislesson. " Then out came the little boy. "How do, Doody Two-Shoes, " said he, notable to speak plain. Yet this little boy had learned all his letters;for she threw down this alphabet mixed together thus: b d f h k m o q s u w y z a c e g i l n p r t v x j and he picked them up, called them by their right names, and put themall in order thus: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z. The next place we came to was Farmer Simpson's. "Bow, bow, bow, " saidthe dog at the door. "Sirrah, " said his mistress, "why do you bark at Little Two-Shoes? Comein, Madge; here, Sally wants you sadly; she has learned all her lesson. " Then out came the little one. "So, Madge!" says she. "So, Sally!" answered the other. "Have you learned your lesson?" "Yes, that's what I have, " replied the little one in the country manner;and immediately taking the letters she set up these syllables: ba be bi bo bu, ca ce ci co cu, da de di do du, fa fe fi fo fu, and gave them their exact sounds as she composed them. After this, Little Two-Shoes taught her to spell words of one syllable, and she soon set up pear, plum, top, ball, pin, puss, dog, hog, fawn, buck, doe, lamb, sheep, ram, cow, bull, cock, hen, and many more. The next place we came to was Gaffer Cook's cottage. Here a number ofpoor children were met to learn. They all came round Little Margery atonce; and, having pulled out her letters, she asked the little boy nexther what he had for dinner. He answered, "Bread. " (The poor children inmany places live very hard. ) "Well, then, " said she, "set the firstletter. " He put up the letter _B_, to which the next added _r_, and the next _e_, the next _a_, the next _d_ and it stood thus, "_Bread_". "And what had you, Polly Comb, for your dinner?" "Apple-pie, " answeredthe little girl: upon which the next in turn set up a great _A_, the twonext a _p_ each, and so on until the two words _Apple_ and _pie_ wereunited and stood thus, "_Apple-pie_. " The next had Potatoes, the next Beef and Turnips, which were spelt, withmany others, until the game of spelling was finished. She then set themanother task, and we went on. The next place we came to was Farmer Thompson's, where there were agreat many little ones waiting for her. "So, little Mrs. Goody Two-Shoes, " said one of them. "Where have youbeen so long?" "I have been teaching, " says she, "longer than I intended, and am afraidI am come too soon for you now. " "No, but indeed you are not, " replied the other, "for I have got mylesson, and so has Sally Dawson, and so has Harry Wilson, and so have weall"; and they capered about as if they were overjoyed to see her. "Why, then, " says she, "you are all very good, and God Almighty willlove you; so let us begin our lesson. " They all huddled round her, and though at the other place they wereemployed about words and syllables, here we had people of much greaterunderstanding, who dealt only in sentences. _The Lord have mercy upon me, and grant I may always be good, and say myprayers, and love the Lord my God with all my heart, and with all mysoul, and with all my strength; and honor government and all good men inauthority. _ Little Margery then set them to compose the following: LESSON FOR THE CONDUCT OF LIFE He that will thrive Must rise by five. He that hath thriv'n May lie till seven. Truth may be blamed, But cannot be shamed. Tell me with whom you go, And I'll tell what you do. A friend in your need Is a friend indeed. They ne'er can be wise Who good counsel despise. As we were returning home, we saw a gentleman, who was very ill, sittingunder a shady tree at the corner of his rookery. Though ill, he began tojoke with Little Margery, and said laughing, "So, Goody Two-Shoes! Theytell me you are a cunning little baggage; pray, can you tell me what Ishall do to get well?" "Yes, " said she, "go to bed when your rooks do and get up with them inthe morning; earn, as they do, every day what you eat, and eat and drinkno more than you earn, and you will get health and keep it. " The gentleman, laughing, gave Margery sixpence, and told her she was asensible hussy. Mrs. Williams, who kept a college for instructing little gentlemen andladies in the science of A, B, C, was at this time very old and infirm, and wanted to decline that important trust. This being told to SirWilliam Dove, who lived in the parish, he sent for Mrs. Williams, anddesired she would examine Little Two-Shoes and see whether she wasqualified for the office. This was done, and Mrs. Williams made the following report in her favor;namely, that Little Margery was the best scholar, and had the best headand the best heart of any one she had examined. All the country had agreat opinion of Mrs. Williams, and her words gave them also a greatopinion of Mrs. Margery, for so we must now call her. No sooner was Mrs. Margery settled in this office than she laid everypossible scheme to promote the welfare and happiness of all herneighbors, and especially of the little ones, in whom she took greatdelight; and all those whose parents could not afford to pay for theireducation, she taught for nothing but the pleasure she had in theircompany; for you are to observe that they were very good, or were soonmade so by her good management. The school where she taught was that which was before kept by Mrs. Williams. The room was large, and as she knew that nature intendedchildren should be always in action, she placed her different letters, or alphabets, all round the school, so that every one was obliged to getup to fetch a letter or spell a word when it came to his turn; which notonly kept them in health but fixed the letters and points firmly intheir minds. She had the following assistants to help her, and I will tell you howshe came by them. One day as she was going through the next village shemet with some wicked boys who had got a young raven, which they weregoing to throw at; she wanted to get the poor creature out of theircruel hands, and therefore gave them a penny for him, and brought himhome. She called his name Ralph, and a fine bird he was. Some days after she had met with the raven, as she was walking in thefields she saw some naughty boys who had taken a pigeon and tied astring to its leg, in order to let it fly and draw it back again whenthey pleased; and by this means they tortured the poor animal with thehopes of liberty and repeated disappointment. This pigeon she alsobought. He was a very pretty fellow, and she called him Tom. Some time after this a poor lamb had lost its dam, and the farmer beingabout to kill it, she bought it of him and brought it home with her toplay with the children and teach them when to go to bed: for it was arule with the wise men of that age (and a very good one, let me tellyou) to _Rise with the lark and lie down with the lamb. _ This lamb she called Will, and a pretty fellow he was. Soon after this a present was made to Mrs. Margery of a little dog, Jumper, and a pretty dog he was. Jumper, Jumper, Jumper! He was alwaysin good humor and playing and jumping about, and therefore he was calledJumper. The place assigned for Jumper was that of keeping the door, sothat he may be called the porter of the college, for he would let nobodygo out or any one come in without the leave of his mistress. But one day a dreadful accident happened in the school. It was on aThursday morning, I very well remember, when the children having learnedtheir lessons soon, she had given them leave to play, and they were allrunning about the school and diverting themselves with the birds and thelamb. At this time the dog, all of a sudden, laid hold of his mistress'sapron and endeavored to pull her out of the school. She was at firstsurprised; however, she followed him to see what he intended. No sooner had he led her into the garden than he ran back and pulled outone of the children in the same manner; upon which she ordered them allto leave the school immediately; and they had not been out five minutesbefore the top of the house fell in. What a miraculous deliverance washere! How gracious! How good was God Almighty, to save all thesechildren from destruction, and to make use of such an instrument as alittle sagacious animal to accomplish His divine will! I should haveobserved that as soon as they were all in the garden, the dog cameleaping round them to express his joy, and when the house had fallen, laid himself down quietly by his mistress. Some of the neighbors, who saw the school fall and who were in greatpain for Margery and the little ones, soon spread the news through thevillage, and all the parents, terrified for their children, camecrowding in abundance; they had, however, the satisfaction to find themall safe, and upon their knees, with their mistress, giving God thanksfor their happy deliverance. You are not to wonder, my dear reader, that this little dog should havemore sense than you, or your father, or your grandfather. Though God Almighty has made man the lord of creation, and endowed himwith reason, yet in many respects He has been altogether as bountiful toother creatures of His forming. Some of the senses of other animals aremore acute than ours, as we find by daily experience. The downfall of the school was a great misfortune to Mrs. Margery; forshe not only lost all her books, but was destitute of a place to teachin. Sir William Dove, being informed of this, ordered the house to bebuilt at his own expense, and till that could be done, Farmer Grove wasso kind as to let her have his large hall to teach in. While at Mr. Grove's, which was in the heart of the village, she notonly taught the children in the daytime, but the farmer's servants, andall the neighbors, to read and write in the evening. This gave not onlyMr. Grove but all the neighbors a high opinion of her good sense andprudent behavior; and she was so much esteemed that most of thedifferences in the parish were left to her decision. One gentleman in particular, I mean Sir Charles Jones, had conceivedsuch a high opinion of her that he offered her a considerable sum totake care of his family and the education of his daughter, which, however, she refused. But this gentleman, sending for her afterwardswhen he had a dangerous fit of illness, she went and behaved soprudently in the family and so tenderly to him and his daughter that hewould not permit her to leave his house, but soon after made herproposals of marriage. She was truly sensible of the honor he intendedher, but, though poor, she would not consent to be made a lady until hehad effectually provided for his daughter. All things being settled and the day fixed, the neighbors came in crowdsto see the wedding; for they were all glad that one who had been such agood little girl, and was become such a virtuous and good woman, wasgoing to be made a lady. But just as the clergyman had opened his book, a gentleman richly dressed, ran into the church, and cried, "Stop!stop!" This greatly alarmed the congregation, particularly the intended brideand bridegroom, whom he first accosted and desired to speak with themapart. After they had been talking some little time, the people weregreatly surprised to see Sir Charles stand motionless and his bride cryand faint away in the stranger's arms. This seeming grief, however, wasonly a prelude to a flood of joy which immediately succeeded; for youmust know, gentle reader, that this gentleman, so richly dressed andbedizened with lace, was that identical little boy whom you before sawin the sailor's habit; in short, it was little Tom Two-Shoes, Mrs. Margery's brother, who had just come from beyond sea, where he had madea large fortune. Hearing, as soon as he landed, of his sister's intendedwedding, he had ridden in haste to see that a proper settlement was madeon her; which he thought she was now entitled to, as he himself was bothable and willing to give her an ample fortune. They soon returned totheir places and were married in tears, but they were tears of joy. 379 _Evenings at Home_, one of the important books in the history of the development of literature for children, was published in six small volumes, from 1792 to 1796. It was a result of a newly awakened interest in the real world round about us and represented the profound reaction against the "fantastic visions" and "sweetmeats" of popular literature. The main purpose was to give instruction by showing things as they really are. The plan of the book is very simple. The Fairbornes, with a large "progeny of children, boys and girls, " kept a sort of open house for friends and relatives. Many of these visitors, accustomed to writing, would frequently produce a fable, a story, or a dialogue, adapted to the age and understanding of the young people. These papers were dropped into a box until the children should all be assembled at holidays. Then one of the youngest was sent to "rummage the budget, " which meant to reach into the box and take the paper that he happened to touch. It was brought in and read and considered; then the process was repeated. "Eyes, and No Eyes" was drawn out on the twentieth evening. _Evenings at Home_ was written by Dr. John Aikin (1747-1822) and his sister Mrs. Anna Letitia Barbauld (1743-1825). Dr. Aikin seems to have written the larger number of the hundred papers composing the book. Mrs. Barbauld's share is placed at fifteen papers by authority of the _Dictionary of National Biography_. Some of the children in these stories may perceive more closely than normal children do, but this defect may add a charm if the reader keeps in mind that this is one of the earliest nature books for children. Stories of this kind require the presence of some omniscient or "encyclopedic" character to whom all the things requiring an answer may be referred. Mr. Andrews in "Eyes, and No Eyes, " Mr. Barlow in Day's _Sandford and Merton_, and Mr. Gresham in Miss Edgeworth's "Waste Not, Want Not" are good illustrations of this type. EYES, AND NO EYES OR THE ART OF SEEING DR. AIKIN AND MRS. BARBAULD "Well, Robert, whither have you been walking this afternoon?" said Mr. Andrews to one of his pupils at the close of a holiday. R. I have been, sir, to Broom-heath, and so round by the windmill uponCamp-mount, and home through the meadows by the river side. Mr. A. Well, that's a pleasant round. R. I thought it very dull, sir; I scarcely met with a single person. Ihad rather by half have gone along the turnpike-road. Mr. A. Why, if seeing men and horses were your object, you would, indeed, have been better entertained on the high-road. But did you seeWilliam? R. We set out together, but he lagged behind in the lane, so I walked onand left him. Mr. A. That was a pity. He would have been company for you. R. Oh, he is so tedious, always stopping to look at this thing and that!I had rather walk alone. I dare say he has not got home yet. Mr. A. Here he comes. Well, William, where have you been? W. Oh, sir, the pleasantest walk! I went all over Broom-heath, and so upto the mill at the top of the hill, and then down among the greenmeadows, by the side of the river. Mr. A. Why, that is just the round Robert has been taking, and hecomplains of its dullness, and prefers the high-road. W. I wonder at that. I am sure I hardly took a step that did not delightme, and I have brought home my handkerchief full of curiosities. Mr. A. Suppose, then, you give us some account of what amused you somuch. I fancy it will be as new to Robert as to me. W. I will, sir. The lane leading to the heath, you know, is close andsandy; so I did not mind it much, but made the best of my way. However, I spied a curious thing enough in the hedge. It was an old crab-tree, out of which grew a great bunch of something green, quite different fromthe tree itself. Here is a branch of it. Mr. A. Ah! this is mistletoe, a plant of great fame for the use made ofit by the Druids of old in their religious rites and incantations. Itbears a very slimy white berry, of which birdlime may be made, whenceits Latin name of Viscus. It is one of those plants which do not grow inthe ground by a root of their own, but fix themselves upon other plants;whence they have been humorously styled _parasitical_, as beinghangers-on, or dependents. It was the mistletoe of the oak that theDruids particularly honored. W. A little further on, I saw a green woodpecker fly to a tree, and runup the trunk like a cat. Mr. A. That was to seek for insects in the bark, on which they live. They bore holes with their strong bills for that purpose, and do muchdamage to the trees by it. W. What beautiful birds they are! Mr. A. Yes; the woodpecker has been called, from its color and size, theEnglish parrot. W. When I got upon the open heath, how charming it was! The air seemedso fresh, and the prospect on every side so free and unbounded! Then itwas all covered with gay flowers, many of which I had never observedbefore. There were, at least, three kinds of heath (I have got them inmy handkerchief here), and gorse, and broom, and bell-flower, and manyothers of all colors that I will beg you presently to tell me the namesof. Mr. A. That I will, readily. W. I saw, too, several birds that were new to me. There was a prettygreyish one, of the size of a lark, that was hopping about some greatstones; and when he flew, he showed a great deal of white about histail. Mr. A. That was a wheat-ear. They are reckoned very delicious birds toeat, and frequent the open downs in Sussex, and some other counties, ingreat numbers. W. There was a flock of lapwings upon a marshy part of the heath, thatamused me much. As I came near them, some of them kept flying round andround, just over my head, and crying _pewet_, so distinctly, one mightalmost fancy they spoke. I thought I should have caught one of them, forhe flew as though one of his wings was broken, and often tumbled closeto the ground; but as I came near, he always made a shift to get away. Mr. A. Ha, ha! you were finely taken in then! This was all an artificeof the bird's, to entice you away from its nest; for they build upon thebare ground, and their nests would easily be observed, did they not drawoff the attention of intruders by their loud cries and counterfeitlameness. W. I wish I had known that, for he led me a long chase, often over-shoesin water. However, it was the cause of my falling in with an old man anda boy who were cutting and piling up turf for fuel, and I had a gooddeal of talk with them about the manner of preparing the turf, and theprice it sells at. They gave me, too, a creature I never saw before--ayoung viper, which they had just killed, together with its dam. I haveseen several common snakes, but this is thicker in proportion, and of adarker color than they are. Mr. A. True. Vipers frequent those turfy, boggy grounds pretty much; andI have known several turf-cutters bitten by them. W. They are very venomous, are they not? Mr. A. Enough so to make their wounds painful and dangerous, though theyseldom prove fatal. W. Well--I then took my course up to the windmill, on the mount. Iclimbed up the steps of the mill, in order to get a better view of thecountry around. What an extensive prospect! I counted fifteenchurch-steeples; and I saw several gentlemen's houses peeping out fromthe midst of green woods and plantations; and I could trace the windingsof the river all along the low grounds, till it was lost behind a ridgeof hills. But I'll tell you what I mean to do, sir, if you will give meleave. Mr. A. What is that? W. I will go again, and take with me the county map, by which I shallprobably be able to make out most of the places. Mr. A. You shall have it, and I will go with you, and take my pocketspying-glass. W. I shall be very glad of that. Well--a thought struck me, that as thehill is called Camp-mount, there might probably be some remains ofditches and mounds, with which I have read that camps were surrounded. And I really believe I discovered something of that sort running roundone side of the mound. Mr. A. Very likely you might. I know antiquaries have described suchremains as existing there, which some suppose to be Roman, othersDanish. We will examine them further, when we go. W. From the hill, I went straight down to the meadows below, and walkedon the side of a brook that runs into the river. It was all borderedwith reeds and flags, and tall flowering plants, quite different fromthose I had seen on the heath. As I was getting down the bank, to reachone of them, I heard something plunge into the water near me. It was alarge water-rat, and I saw it swim over to the other side, and go intoits hole. There were a great many large dragonflies all about thestream. I caught one of the finest, and have got him here in a leaf. Buthow I longed to catch a bird that I saw hovering over the water, andthat every now and then darted down into it! It was all over a mixtureof the most beautiful green and blue, with some orange-color. It wassomewhat less than a thrush, and had a large head and bill, and a shorttail. Mr. A. I can tell you what that bird was--a kingfisher, the celebratedhalcyon of the ancients, about which so many tales are told. It lives onfish, which it catches in the manner you saw. It builds in holes in thebanks, and is a shy, retired bird, never to be seen far from the streamwhich it inhabits. W. I must try to get another sight of him, for I never saw a bird thatpleased me so much. Well--I followed this little brook till it enteredthe river, and then took the path that runs along the bank. On theopposite side, I observed several little birds running along the shore, and making a piping noise. They were brown and white, and about as bigas a snipe. Mr. A. I suppose they were sandpipers, one of the numerous family ofbirds that get their living by wading among the shallows, and picking upworms and insects. W. There were a great many swallows, too, sporting upon the surface ofthe water, that entertained me with their motions. Sometimes they dashedinto the stream; sometimes they pursued one another so quickly that theeye could scarcely follow them. In one place, where a high, steepsand-bank rose directly above the river, I observed many of them go inand out of holes, with which the bank was bored full. Mr. A. Those were sand-martins, the smallest of our species of swallows. They are of a mouse-color above, and white beneath. They make theirnests and bring up their young in these holes, which run a great depth, and by their situation are secure from all plunderers. W. A little further, I saw a man in a boat, who was catching eels in anodd way. He had a long pole with broad iron prongs at the end, just likeNeptune's trident, only there were five, instead of three. This hepushed straight down among the mud, in the deepest parts of the river, and fetched up the eels sticking between the prongs. Mr. A. I have seen this method. It is called spearing of eels. W. While I was looking at him, a heron came flying over my head, withhis large, flagging wings. He alighted at the next turn of the river, and I crept softly behind the bank to watch his motions. He had wadedinto the water as far as his long legs would carry him, and was standingwith his neck drawn in, looking intently on the stream. Presently, hedarted his long bill, as quick as lightning, into the water, and drewout a fish, which he swallowed. I saw him catch another in the samemanner. He then took alarm at some noise I made, and flew away slowly toa wood at some distance, where he settled. Mr. A. Probably his nest was there, for herons build upon the loftiesttrees they can find, and sometimes in society together, like rooks. Formerly, when these birds were valued for the amusement of hawking, many gentlemen had their _heronries_, and a few are still remaining. W. I think they are the largest wild birds we have. Mr. A. They are of great length and spread of wing, but their bodies arecomparatively small. W. I then turned homeward, across the meadows, where I stopped awhile tolook at a large flock of starlings, which kept flying about at no greatdistance. I could not tell at first what to make of them; for theyarose all together from the ground as thick as a swarm of bees, andformed themselves into a sort of black cloud, hovering over the field. After taking a short round, they settled again, and presently aroseagain in the same manner. I dare say there were hundreds of them. Mr. A. Perhaps so; for in the fenny countries their flocks are sonumerous as to break down whole acres of reeds by settling on them. Thisdisposition of starlings to fly in close swarms was remarked even byHomer, who compares the foe flying from one of his heroes, to a _cloud_of _stares_ retiring dismayed at the approach of the hawk. W. After I had left the meadows, I crossed the corn-fields in the wayto our house, and passed close by a deep marlpit. Looking into it, I sawin one of the sides a cluster of what I took to be shells; and, upongoing down, I picked up a clod of marl, which was quite full of them;but how sea-shells could get there, I cannot imagine. Mr. A. I do not wonder at your surprise, since many philosophers havebeen much perplexed to account for the same appearance. It is notuncommon to find great quantities of shells and relics of marine animalseven in the bowels of high mountains, very remote from the sea. They arecertainly proofs that the earth was once in a very different state fromwhat it is at present; but in what manner, and how long ago thesechanges took place, can only be guessed at. W. I got to the high field next our house just as the sun was setting, and I stood looking at it till it was quite lost. What a glorious sight!The clouds were tinged purple and crimson and yellow of all shades andhues, and the clear sky varied from blue to a fine green at the horizon. But how large the sun appears just as it sets! I think it seems twice asbig as when it is overhead. Mr. A. It does so; and you may probably have observed the same apparentenlargement of the moon at its rising? W. I have; but, pray, what is the reason of this? Mr. A. It is an optical deception, depending upon principles which Icannot well explain to you till you know more of that branch of science. But what a number of new ideas this afternoon's walk has afforded you! Ido not wonder that you found it amusing; it has been very instructive, too. Did _you_ see nothing of all these sights, Robert? R. I saw some of them, but I did not take particular notice of them. Mr. A. Why not? R. I don't know. I did not care about them, and I made the best of myway home. Mr. A. That would have been right if you had been sent with a message;but as you walked only for amusement, it would have been wiser to havesought out as many sources of it as possible. But so it is--one manwalks through the world with his eyes open, and another with them shut;and upon this difference depends all the superiority of knowledge theone acquires above the other. I have known sailors who had been in allthe quarters of the world, and could tell you nothing but the signs ofthe tippling-houses they frequented in different ports, and the priceand quality of the liquor. On the other hand, a Franklin could not crossthe Channel without making some observations useful to mankind. Whilemany a vacant, thoughtless youth is whirled throughout Europe withoutgaining a single idea worth crossing a street for, the observing eye andinquiring mind find matter of improvement and delight in every ramble intown or country. Do _you_, then, William, continue to make use of youreyes; and _you_, Robert, learn that eyes were given you to use. 380 Thomas Day's _History of Sandford and Merton_ was published in three volumes, 1783-1789. Day died in the latter year at the early age of forty-one. He was a "benevolent eccentric. " Since he was well to do he could devote himself to the attempt to carry out the schemes of social reform which he had at heart. Influenced by Rousseau and the doctrines of the French Revolution, he believed human nature could be made over by an educational scheme. _Sandford and Merton_ is an elaborate setting forth of the concrete workings of this process. The inculcation of greater sympathy for the lower classes and for animals, and a return to the natural, commonplace virtues as opposed to the artificial organization of society formed the main burden of the book. Tommy Merton, six-year-old spoiled darling of an over-indulgent gentleman of great fortune, and Harry Sandford, wonderfully perfect son of a "plain, honest farmer, " are placed under the tuition of a minister-philosopher, named Barlow. This philosopher is evidently Mr. Day's fictitious portrayal of himself. The story given below is one of a number by means of which the "encyclopedic" Barlow educates Tommy and Harry. Another story from this group, "Androcles and the Lion, " may be found in the fables (No. 214). _Sandford and Merton_ is still, according to Sir Leslie Stephen, "among the best children's books in the language, in spite of its quaint didacticism, because it succeeds in forcibly expressing his [Day's] high sense of manliness, independence, and sterling qualities of character. " THE GOOD-NATURED LITTLE BOY THOMAS DAY A little Boy went out, one morning, to walk to a village about fivemiles from the place where he lived, and carried with him, in a basket, the provision that was to serve him the whole day. As he was walkingalong, a poor little half-starved dog came up to him, wagging his tail, and seeming to entreat him to take compassion on him. The little Boy atfirst took no notice of him, but at length, remarking how lean andfamished the creature seemed to be, he said, "This animal is certainlyin very great necessity: if I give him part of my provision, I shall beobliged to go home hungry myself; however, as he seems to want it morethan I do, he shall partake with me. " Saying this, he gave the dog partof what he had in the basket, who ate as if he had not tasted victualsfor a fortnight. The little Boy then went on a little farther, his dog still followinghim, and fawning upon him with the greatest gratitude and affection;when he saw a poor old horse lying upon the ground, and groaning as ifhe was very ill, he went up to him, and saw that he was almost starved, and so weak that he was unable to rise. "I am very much afraid, " saidthe little Boy, "if I stay to assist this horse, that it will be darkbefore I can return; and I have heard that there are several thieves inthe neighborhood; however, I will try; it is doing a good action toattempt to relieve him; and God Almighty will take care of me. " He thenwent and gathered some grass, which he brought to the horse's mouth, whoimmediately began to eat with as much relish as if his chief disease washunger. He then fetched some water in his hat, which the animal drankup, and seemed immediately to be so much refreshed, that, after a fewtrials, he got up, and began grazing. The little Boy then went on a little farther, and saw a man wading aboutin a pond of water, without being able to get out of it, in spite of allhis endeavors. "What is the matter, good man, " said the little Boy tohim; "can't you find your way out of this pond?" "No, God bless you, myworthy master, or miss, " said the man; "for such I take you to be byyour voice: I have fallen into this pond, and know not how to get outagain, as I am quite blind, and I am almost afraid to move for fear ofbeing drowned. " "Well, " said the little Boy, "though I shall be wettedto the skin, if you will throw me your stick, I will try to help you outof it. " The blind man then threw the stick to that side on which heheard the voice; the little Boy caught it, and went into the water, feeling very carefully before him, lest he should unguardedly go beyondhis depth; at length he reached the blind man, took him very carefullyby the hand, and led him out. The blind man then gave him a thousandblessings, and told him he could grope out his way home; and the littleBoy ran on as hard as he could, to prevent being benighted. But he had not proceeded far, before he saw a poor Sailor who had lostboth his legs in an engagement by sea, hopping along upon crutches. "Godbless you, my little master!" said the Sailor; "I have fought many abattle with the French, to defend poor old England: but now I amcrippled, as you see, and have neither victuals nor money, although I amalmost famished. " The little Boy could not resist his inclination torelieve him; so he gave him all his remaining victuals, and said, "Godhelp you, poor man! This is all I have, otherwise you should have more. "He then ran along, and presently arrived at the town he was going to, did his business, and returned towards his own home with all theexpedition he was able. But he had not gone much more than half way, before the night shut inextremely dark, without either moon or stars to light him. The poorlittle Boy used his utmost endeavors to find his way, but unfortunatelymissed it in turning down a lane which brought him into a wood, where hewandered about a great while without being able to find any path to leadhim out. Tired out at last, and hungry, he felt himself so feeble thathe could go no farther, but set himself down upon the ground, cryingmost bitterly. In this situation he remained for some time, till at lastthe little dog, who had never forsaken him, came up to him, wagging histail, and holding something in his mouth. The little Boy took it fromhim, and saw it was a handkerchief nicely pinned together, whichsomebody had dropped and the dog had picked up; and on opening it, hefound several slices of bread and meat, which the little Boy ate withgreat satisfaction, and, felt himself extremely refreshed with his meal. "So, " said the little Boy, "I see that if I have given you a breakfast, you have given me a supper; and a good turn is never lost, done even toa dog. " He then once more attempted to escape from the wood; but it was to nopurpose; he only scratched his legs with briars, and slipped down in thedirt, without being able to find his way out. He was just going to giveup all farther attempts in despair, when he happened to see a horsefeeding before him, and, going up to him, saw by the light of the moon, which just then began to shine a little, that it was the very same hehad fed in the morning. "Perhaps, " said the little Boy, "this creature, as I have been so good to him, will let me get upon his back, and he maybring me out of the wood, as he is accustomed to feed in thisneighborhood. " The little Boy then went up to the horse, speaking to himand stroking him, and the horse let him mount his back withoutopposition; and then proceeded slowly through the wood, grazing as hewent, till he brought him to an opening which led to the high road. Thelittle Boy was much rejoiced at this, and said, "If I had not saved thiscreature's life in the morning, I should have been obliged to have staidhere all night; I see by this that a good turn is never lost. " But the poor little Boy had yet a greater danger to undergo; for, as hewas going along a solitary lane, two men rushed out upon him, laid holdof him, and were going to strip him of his clothes; but, just as theywere beginning to do it, the little dog bit the leg of one of the menwith so much violence that he left the little Boy and pursued the dog, that ran howling and barking away. In this instant a voice was heardthat cried out, "There the rascals are; let us knock them down!" whichfrightened the remaining man so much that he ran away, and his companionfollowed him. The little Boy then looked up, and saw that it was theSailor, whom he had relieved in the morning, carried upon the shouldersof the blind man whom he had helped out of the pond. "There, my littledear, " said the Sailor, "God be thanked! We have come in time to do youa service, in return for what you did us in the morning. As I lay undera hedge I heard these villains talk of robbing a little Boy, who, fromthe description, I concluded must be you: but I was so lame that Ishould not have been able to come time enough to help you, if I had notmet this honest blind man, who took me upon his back while I showed himthe way. " The little Boy thanked him very sincerely for thus defending him; andthey went all together to his father's house, which was not far off;where they were all kindly entertained with a supper and a bed. Thelittle Boy took care of his faithful dog as long as he lived, and neverforgot the importance and necessity of doing good to others, if we wishthem to do the same to us. 381 It has been no unusual thing for critics and others following in their wake to sneer at Maria Edgeworth (1767-1849) and her school as hopelessly utilitarian. But to find fault with her on that score is to blame her for having achieved the very end she set out to reach. Sir Walter Scott, who certainly knew what good story-telling was, had the highest opinion of her abilities, and it is difficult to see how any reader with a fair amount of catholicity in his nature can fail to be impressed with her power to build up a story in skillful dramatic fashion, to portray various types of character in most convincing manner, and to emphasize in unforgettable ways the old and basic verities of life. Of course fashions change in outward matters, and we must not quarrel with a taste that prefers the newest in literature any more than with one that prefers the newest in dress. Miss Edgeworth helped her eccentric father present in _Practical Education_ an extended discussion for the layman of the whole question of the ways and means of educating people. That was one of the very first modern treatments of that much-discussed subject, and its ideas are not all obsolete yet by any means. _Castle Rackrent_ belongs in the list of classic fiction. However, her chief interest for this collection rests in the most important of her books for children, _The Parent's Assistant or, Stories for Children_ (1796-1800). The forbidding primary title was something the publisher was mainly responsible for, and has been relegated to second place in modern reprints. In these stories, according to the preface, "only such situations are described as children can easily imagine, and which may consequently interest their feelings. Such examples of virtue are painted as are not above their conceptions of excellence, and their powers of sympathy and emulation. " Miss Edgeworth knew children thoroughly. She was surrounded by a crowd of brothers and sisters for whom she had to invent means of entertainment as well as instruction. They really collaborated in the making of the stories. As the stories were written out on a slate, the sections were read to eager listeners, and the author had the advantage of their honest expressions of approval or dissent. "Waste Not, Want Not" first appeared in the final form given to _The Parent's Assistant_, the third edition published in six volumes in 1800. It is perhaps the best to represent Miss Edgeworth's work, though "Simple Susan, " "Lazy Lawrence, " and others have their admirers. In judging her work the student should keep in mind (1) that she wrote at a time when, unlike the present, the best authors thought it beneath their dignity to write for children, (2) that the too repressive and dogmatic attitude towards children which one now and then feels in her stories was due to a conscious effort to offset the undisciplined enthusiasms and sentimentalisms of her day, and (3) that she has been a living influence in the lives of countless men and women for over a century. She was a real pioneer. WASTE NOT, WANT NOT OR TWO STRINGS TO YOUR BOW MARIA EDGEWORTH Mr. Gresham, a Bristol merchant, who had by honorable industry andeconomy accumulated a considerable fortune, retired from business to anew house which he had built upon the Downs, near Clifton. Mr. Gresham, however, did not imagine that a new house alone could make him happy: hedid not purpose to live in idleness and extravagance, for such a lifewould have been equally incompatible with his habits and his principles. He was fond of children, and as he had no sons, he determined to adoptone of his relations. He had two nephews, and he invited both of them tohis house, that he might have an opportunity of judging of theirdispositions, and of the habits which they had acquired. Hal and Benjamin, Mr. Gresham's nephews, were about ten years old; theyhad been educated very differently. Hal was the son of the elder branchof the family; his father was a gentleman, who spent rather more than hecould afford; and Hal, from the example of the servants in his father'sfamily, with whom he had passed the first years of his childhood, learned to waste more of everything than he used. He had been told that"gentlemen should be above being careful and saving"; and he hadunfortunately imbibed a notion that extravagance is the sign of agenerous, and economy of an avaricious disposition. Benjamin, on the contrary, had been taught habits of care and foresight:his father had but a very small fortune, and was anxious that his sonshould early learn that economy insures independence, and sometimes putsit in the power of those who are not very rich, to be very generous. The morning after these two boys arrived at their uncle's, they wereeager to see all the rooms in the house. Mr. Gresham accompanied them, and attended to their remarks, and exclamations. "Oh! what an excellent motto!" exclaimed Ben, when he read the followingwords which were written in large characters over the chimneypiece, inhis uncle's spacious kitchen: WASTE NOT, WANT NOT "Waste not, want not!" repeated his cousin Hal, in rather a contemptuoustone; "I think it looks stingy to servants; and no gentleman's servants, cooks especially, would like to have such a mean motto always staringthem in the face. " Ben, who was not so conversant as his cousin in the ways of cooks andgentleman's servants, made no reply to these observations. Mr. Gresham was called away while his nephews were looking at the otherrooms in the house. Some time afterwards, he heard their voices in thehall. "Boys, " said he, "what are you doing there?" "Nothing, Sir, " said Hal; "you were called away from us, and we did notknow which way to go. " "And have you nothing to do?" said Mr. Gresham. "No, Sir, nothing, " answered Hal, in a careless tone, like one who waswell content with the state of habitual idleness. "No, Sir, nothing!" replied Ben, in a voice of lamentation. "Come, " said Mr. Gresham, "if you have nothing to do, lads, will youunpack these two parcels for me?" The two parcels were exactly alike, both of them well tied up with goodwhipcord. Ben took his parcel to a table, and, after breaking off thesealing wax, began carefully to examine the knot, and then to untie it. Hal stood still exactly in the spot where the parcel was put into hishands, and tried first at one corner, and then at another, to pull thestring off by force: "I wish these people wouldn't tie up their parcelsso tight, as if they were never to be undone, " cried he, as he tugged atthe cord; and he pulled the knot closer instead of loosening it. "Ben! why how did you get yours undone, man? What's in your parcel? Iwonder what is in mine! I wish I could get this string off--I must cutit. " "Oh, no, " said Ben, who now had undone the last knot of his parcel, andwho drew out the length of string with exultation, "don't cut it, Hal--look what a nice cord this is, and yours is the same; it's a pityto cut it; '_Waste not, want not!_' you know. " "Pooh!" said Hal, "what signifies a bit of pack-thread?" "It is whipcord, " said Ben. "Well, whipcord! What signifies a bit of whipcord! You can get a bit ofwhipcord twice as long as that for twopence; and who cares for twopence!Not I, for one! So here it goes, " cried Hal, drawing out his knife; andhe cut the cord, precipitately, in sundry places. "Lads! Have you undone the parcels for me?" said Mr. Gresham, openingthe parlor door as he spoke. "Yes, Sir, " cried Hal; and he dragged off his half-cut, half-entangledstring--"here's the parcel. " "And here's my parcel, Uncle; and here's the string, " said Ben. "You may keep the string for your pains, " said Mr. Gresham. "Thank you, Sir, " said Ben: "what an excellent whipcord it is!" "And you, Hal, " continued Mr. Gresham, "you may keep your string too, ifit will be of any use to you. " "It will be of no use to me, thank you, Sir, " said Hal. "No, I am afraid not, if this be it, " said his uncle taking up thejagged, knotted remains of Hal's cord. A few days after this, Mr. Gresham gave to each of his nephews a newtop. "But how's this?" said Hal; "these tops have no strings; what shall wedo for strings?" "I have a string that will do very well for mine, " said Ben; and hepulled out of his pocket the fine long smooth string which had tied upthe parcel. With this he soon set up his top, which spun admirably well. "Oh, how I wish that I had but a string!" said Hal: "what shall I do fora string? I'll tell you what: I can use the string that goes round myhat. " "But then, " said Ben, "what will you do for a hatband?" "I'll manage to do without one, " said Hal and he took the string off hishat for his top. It soon was worn through; and he split his top bydriving the peg too tightly into it. His cousin Ben let him set up histhe next day; but Hal was not more fortunate or more careful when hemeddled with other people's things than when he managed his own. He hadscarcely played half an hour before he split it, by driving in the pegtoo violently. Ben bore this misfortune with good humor. "Come, " said he, "it can't behelped! But give me the string, because _that_ may still be of use forsomething else. " It happened some time afterwards, that a lady who had been intimatelyacquainted with Hal's mother at Bath, that is to say, who had frequentlymet her at the card table during the winter, now arrived at Clifton. Shewas informed by his mother that Hal was at Mr. Gresham's: and her sons, who were _friends_ of his, came to see him, and invited him to spend thenext day with them. Hal joyfully accepted the invitation. He was always glad to go out todine, because it gave him something to do, something to think of, or, atleast, something to say. Besides this, he had been educated to think itwas a fine thing to visit fine people; and Lady Diana Sweepstakes (forthat was the name of his mother's acquaintance) was a very fine lady;and her two sons intended to be very _great_ gentlemen. He was in a prodigious hurry when these young gentlemen knocked at hisuncle's door the next day; but just as he got to the hall door, littlePatty called to him from the top of the stairs, and told him that hehad dropped his pocket-handkerchief. "Pick it up, then, and bring it to me, quick, can't you, child, " criedHal, "for Lady Di. 's sons are waiting for me?" Little Patty did not know anything about Lady Di. 's sons; but as she wasvery good-natured, and saw that her cousin Hal was, for some reason orother, in a desperate hurry, she ran down stairs as fast as she possiblycould towards the landing-place, where the handkerchief lay:--but alas!Before she reached the handkerchief she fell, rolling down a wholeflight of stairs; and, when her fall was at last stopped by thelanding-place, she did not cry, but she writhed as if she was in greatpain. "Where are you hurt, my love?" said Mr. Gresham, who came instantly, onhearing the noise of some one falling down stairs. "Where are you hurt, my dear?" "Here, Papa, " said the little girl, touching her ankle, which she haddecently covered with her gown: "I believe I am hurt here, but notmuch, " added she, trying to rise; "only it hurts me when I move. " "I'll carry you, don't move then, " said her father; and he took her upin his arms. "My shoe, I've lost one of my shoes, " said she. Ben looked for it uponthe stairs, and he found it sticking in a loop of whipcord, which wasentangled round one of the balusters. When this cord was drawn forth, itappeared that it was the very same jagged, entangled piece which Hal hadpulled off his parcel. He had diverted himself with running up and downstairs, whipping the balusters with it, as he thought he could convertit to no better use; and with his usual carelessness, he at last left ithanging just where he happened to throw it, when the dinner-bell rang. Poor little Patty's ankle was terribly sprained, and Hal reproachedhimself for his folly, and would have reproached himself longer, perhaps, if Lady Di. Sweepstakes' sons had not hurried him away. In the evening, Patty could not run about as she used to do; but she satupon the sofa, and she said that "she did not feel the pain of her ankleso _much_ whilst Ben was so good as to play at _jack-straws_ with her. " "That's right, Ben; never be ashamed of being good-natured to those whoare younger and weaker than yourself, " said his uncle, smiling at seeinghim produce his whipcord, to indulge his little cousin with a game ather favorite cat's-cradle. "I shall not think you one bit less manly, because I see you playing at cat's-cradle with a child six years old. " Hal, however, was not precisely of his uncle's opinion; for when hereturned in the evening and saw Ben playing with his little cousin, hecould not help smiling contemptuously, and asked if he had been playingat cat's-cradle all night. In a heedless manner he made some inquiriesafter Patty's sprained ankle, and then he ran on to tell all the news hehad heard at Lady Diana Sweepstakes'--news which he thought would makehim appear a person of vast importance. "Do you know, Uncle--Do you know, Ben, " said he--"there's to be the most_famous_ doings that ever were heard of, upon the Downs here, the firstday of next month, which will be in a fortnight, thank my stars! I wishthe fortnight were over; I shall think of nothing else I know, till thathappy day comes. " Mr. Gresham inquired why the first of September was to be so muchhappier than any other day in the year. "Why, " replied Hal, "Lady Diana Sweepstakes, you know, is a _famous_rider, and archer, and _all that_--" "Very likely, " said Mr. Gresham, soberly--"but what then?" "Dear Uncle!" cried Hal, "but you shall hear. There's to be a race uponthe Downs the first of September, and, after the race, there's to be anarchery meeting for the ladies, and Lady Diana Sweepstakes is to be oneof _them_. And after the ladies have done shooting--now, Ben, comes thebest part of it! we boys are to have our turn, and Lady Di. Is to give aprize to the best marksman amongst us, of a very handsome bow and arrow!Do you know I've been practising already, and I'll show you tomorrow, assoon as it comes home, the _famous_ bow and arrow that Lady Diana hasgiven me: but, perhaps, " added he, with a scornful laugh, "you like acat's-cradle better than a bow and arrow. " Ben made no reply to this taunt at the moment; but the next day, whenHal's new bow and arrow came home, he convinced him that he knew how touse it very well. "Ben, " said his uncle, "you seem to be a good marksman, though you havenot boasted of yourself. I'll give you a bow and arrow; and perhaps, ifyou practise, you may make yourself an archer before the first ofSeptember; and, in the meantime, you will not wish the fortnight to beover, for you will have something to do. " "Oh, Sir, " interrupted Hal, "but if you mean that Ben should put in forthe prize, he must have a uniform. " "Why _must_ he?" said Mr. Gresham. "Why, Sir, because everybody has--I mean everybody that's anybody;--andLady Diana was talking about the uniform all dinner-time, and it'ssettled all about it except the buttons; the young Sweepstakes are toget theirs made first for patterns; they are to be white, faced withgreen; and they'll look very handsome, I'm sure; and I shall write toMamma to-night, as Lady Diana bid me, about mine; and I shall tell herto be sure to answer my letter, without fail, by return of the post; andthen, if Mamma makes no objection, which I know she won't, because shenever thinks much about expense, and _all that_--then I shall bespeak myuniform, and get it made by the same tailor that makes for Lady Dianaand the young Sweepstakes. " "Mercy upon us!" said Mr. Gresham, who was almost stunned by the rapidvociferation with which this long speech about a uniform was pronounced. "I don't pretend to understand these things, " added he, with an air ofsimplicity, "but we will inquire, Ben, into the necessity of the case, and if it is necessary--or if you think it necessary--that you shouldhave a uniform, why--I'll give you one. " "_You_, Uncle!--Will you, _indeed_?" exclaimed Hal, with amazementpainted in his countenance. "Well, that's the last thing in the world Ishould have expected!--You are not at all the sort of person I shouldhave thought would care about a uniform; and I should have supposedyou'd have thought it extravagant to have a coat on purpose only for oneday; and I'm sure Lady Diana Sweepstakes thought as I do: for when Itold her that motto over your kitchen chimney, WASTE NOT, WANT NOT, shelaughed, and said that I had better not talk to you about uniforms, andthat my mother was the proper person to write to about my uniform; butI'll tell Lady Diana, Uncle, how good you are, and how much she wasmistaken. " "Take care how you do that, " said Mr. Gresham; "for, perhaps, the ladywas not mistaken. " "Nay, did not you say, just now, you would give poor Ben a uniform?" "I said I would, if he thought it necessary to have one. " "Oh, I'll answer for it, he'll think it necessary, " said Hal, laughing, "because it is necessary. " "Allow him, at least, to judge for himself, " said Mr. Gresham. "My dear Uncle, but I assure you, " said Hal, earnestly, "there's nojudging about the matter, because really, upon my word, Lady Diana saiddistinctly that her sons were to have uniforms, white faced with green, and a green and white cockade in their hats. " "May be so, " said Mr. Gresham, still with the same look of calmsimplicity; "put on your hats, boys, and come with me. I know agentleman whose sons are to be at this archery meeting, and we willinquire into all the particulars from him. Then, after we have seen him(it is not eleven o'clock yet), we shall have time enough to walk on toBristol and choose the cloth for Ben's uniform, if it be necessary. " "I cannot tell what to make of all he says, " whispered Hal, as hereached down his hat; "do you think, Ben, he means to give you thisuniform, or not?" "I think, " said Ben, "that he means to give me one, if it be necessary;or, as he said, if I think it is necessary. " "And that, to be sure, you will; won't you? or else you'll be a greatfool, I know, after all I've told you. How can any one in the world knowso much about the matter as I, who have dined with Lady DianaSweepstakes but yesterday; and heard all about it, from beginning toend? And as for this gentleman that we are going to, I'm sure, if heknows anything about the matter, he'll say exactly the same as I do. " "We shall hear, " said Ben, with a degree of composure, which Hal couldby no means comprehend, when a uniform was in question. The gentleman upon whom Mr. Gresham called had three sons, who were allto be at this archery meeting, and they unanimously assured him, in thepresence of Hal and Ben, that they had never thought of buying uniformsfor this grand occasion; and that amongst the number of theiracquaintance, they knew of but three boys whose friends intended to beat such _an unnecessary_ expense. Hal stood amazed--"Such are thevarieties of opinion upon all the grand affairs of life, " said Mr. Gresham, looking at his nephews--"what amongst one set of people youhear asserted to be absolutely necessary, you will hear from another setof people is quite unnecessary. All that can be done, my dear boys, inthese difficult cases, is to judge for yourselves, which opinions, andwhich people, are the most reasonable. " Hal, who had been more accustomed to think of what was fashionable thanof what was reasonable, without at all considering the good sense ofwhat his uncle said to him, replied with childish petulance, "Indeed, sir, I don't know what other people think; I only know what Lady DianaSweepstakes said. " The name of Lady Diana Sweepstakes, Hal thought, must impress allpresent with respect: he was highly astonished, when, as he lookedround, he saw a smile of contempt upon every one's countenance; and hewas yet further bewildered when he heard her spoken of as a very silly, extravagant, ridiculous woman, whose opinion no prudent person would askupon any subject, and whose example was to be shunned, instead of beingimitated. "Ay, my dear Hal, " said his uncle, smiling at his look of amazement, "these are some of the things that young people must learn fromexperience. All the world do not agree in opinion about characters: youwill hear the same person admired in one company, and blamed in another;so that we must still come round to the same point, _Judge foryourself_. " Hal's thoughts were, however, at present, too full of the uniform toallow his judgment to act with perfect impartiality. As soon as theirvisit was over, and all the time they walked down the hill fromPrince's-buildings, towards Bristol, he continued to repeat nearly thesame arguments which he had formerly used; respecting necessity, theuniform, and Lady Diana Sweepstakes. To all this Mr. Gresham made no reply; and longer had the younggentleman expatiated upon the subject, which had so strongly seized uponhis imagination, had not his senses been forcibly assailed at thisinstant by the delicious odors and tempting sight of certain cakes andjellies in a pastry-cook's shop. "Oh, Uncle, " said he, as his uncle was going to turn the corner topursue the road to Bristol, "look at those jellies!" pointing to aconfectioner's shop; "I must buy some of those good things; for I havegot some half-pence in my pocket. " "Your having half-pence in your pocket is an excellent reason foreating, " said Mr. Gresham, smiling. "But I really am hungry, " said Hal; "you know, Uncle, it is a good whilesince breakfast. " His uncle, who was desirous to see his nephews act without restraint, that he might judge of their characters, bid them do as they pleased. "Come, then, Ben, if you've any half-pence in your pocket. " "I'm not hungry, " said Ben. "I suppose _that_ means that you've no half-pence, " said Hal, laughing, with the look of superiority which he had been taught to think _therich_ might assume towards those who were convicted either of poverty oreconomy. "Waste not, want not, " said Ben to himself. Contrary to his cousin'ssurmise, he happened to have two pennyworth of half-pence actually inhis pocket. At the very moment Hal stepped into the pastry-cook's shop, a poorindustrious man, with a wooden leg, who usually sweeps the dirty cornerof the walk which turns at this spot to the Wells, held his hat to Ben, who, after glancing his eye at the petitioner's well-worn broom, instantly produced his two-pence. "I wish I had more half-pence for you, my good man, " said he; "but I've only two-pence. " Hal came out of Mr. Millar's, the confectioner's shop, with a hatful ofcakes in his hand. Mr. Millar's dog was sitting on the flags before the door; and he lookedup, with a wistful, begging eye, at Hal, who was eating a queen-cake. Hal, who was wasteful even in his good nature, threw a whole queen-caketo the dog, who swallowed it for a single mouthful. "There go two-pence in the form of a queen-cake, " said Mr. Gresham. Hal next offered some of his cakes to his uncle and cousin; but theythanked him, and refused to eat any, because, they said, they were nothungry; so he ate and ate, as he walked along, till at last he stopped, and said, "This bun tastes so bad after the queen-cakes, I can't bearit!" and he was going to fling it from him into the river. "Oh, it is a pity to waste that good bun; we may be glad of it yet, "said Ben; "give it to me, rather than throw it away. " "Why, I thought you said you were not hungry, " said Hal. "True, I am not hungry now; but that is no reason why I should never behungry again. " "Well, there is the cake for you; take it, for it has made me sick; andI don't care what becomes of it. " Ben folded the refuse bit of his cousin's bun in a piece of paper, andput it into his pocket. "I'm beginning to be exceedingly tired, or sick, or something, " saidHal, "and as there is a stand of coaches somewhere hereabouts, had wenot better take a coach, instead of walking all the way to Bristol?" "For a stout archer, " said Mr. Gresham, "you are more easily tired thanone might have expected. However, with all my heart; let us take acoach; for Ben asked me to show him the cathedral yesterday, and Ibelieve I should find it rather too much for me to walk so far, though Iam not sick with eating good things. " "_The cathedral!_" said Hal, after he had been seated in the coach abouta quarter of an hour, and had somewhat recovered from his sickness. "Thecathedral! Why, are we only going to Bristol to see the cathedral? Ithought we came out to see about a uniform. " There was a dullness and melancholy kind of stupidity in Hal'scountenance, as he pronounced these words, like one wakening from adream, which made both his uncle and cousin burst out a laughing. "Why, " said Hal, who was now piqued, "I'm sure you _did_ say, Uncle, youwould go to Mr. ----'s, to choose the cloth for the uniform. " "Very true: and so I will, " said Mr. Gresham; "but we need not make awhole morning's work, need we, of looking at a piece of cloth? Cannot wesee a uniform and a cathedral both in one morning?" They went first to the cathedral. Hal's head was too full of the uniformto take any notice of the painted window, which immediately caught Ben'sunembarrassed attention. He looked at the large stained figures on theGothic window; and he observed their colored shadows on the floor andwalls. Mr. Gresham, who perceived that he was eager on all subjects to gaininformation, took this opportunity of telling him several things aboutthe lost art of painting on glass, Gothic arches, etc. , which Halthought extremely tiresome. "Come! come! we shall be late, indeed, " said Hal; "surely you've lookedlong enough, Ben, at this blue and red window. " "I'm only thinking about these colored shadows, " said Ben. "I can show you, when we go home, Ben, " said his uncle, "an entertainingpaper on such shadows. " "Hark!" cried Ben, "did you hear that noise?" They all listened, and heard a bird singing in the cathedral. "It's our old robin, sir, " said the lad who had opened the cathedraldoor for them. "Yes, " said Mr. Gresham, "there he is, boys--look--perched upon theorgan; he often sits there, and sings whilst the organ is playing. ""And, " continued the lad who showed the cathedral, "he has lived herethis many winters; they say he is fifteen years old; and he is so tame, poor fellow, that if I had a bit of bread he'd come down and feed in myhand. " "I've a bit of bun here, " cried Ben, joyfully, producing the remains ofthe bun which Hal, but an hour before, would have thrown away. "Pray letus see the poor robin eat out of your hand. " The lad crumbled the bun, and called to the robin, who fluttered andchirped, and seemed rejoiced at the sight of the bread; but yet he didnot come down from his pinnacle on the organ. "He is afraid of _us_, " said Ben; "he is not used to eat beforestrangers, I suppose. " "Ah, no, Sir, " said the young man, with a deep sigh, "that is not thething: he is used enough to eat afore company; time was, he'd have comedown for me, before ever so many fine folks, and have ate his crumbs outof my hand, at my first call; but, poor fellow, it's not his fault now;he does not know me now, Sir, since my accident, because of this greatblack patch. " The young man put his hand to his right eye, which was covered with ahuge black patch. Ben asked what _accident_ he meant; and the lad told him that, a fewweeks ago, he had lost the sight of his eye by the stroke of a stone, which reached him as he was passing under the rocks of Clifton, unluckily, when the workmen were blasting. "I don't mind so much for myself, Sir, " said the lad; "but I can't workso well now, as I used to do before my accident, for my old mother, whohas had a stroke of the palsy; and I've a many little brothers andsisters, not well able yet to get their own livelihood, though they beas willing, as willing can be. " "Where does your mother live?" said Mr. Gresham. "Hard by, Sir, just close to the church here: it was _her_ that alwayshad the showing of it to strangers, till she lost the use of her poorlimbs. " "Shall we, may we, go that way?--This is the house: is it not?" saidBen, when they went out of the cathedral. They went into the house: it was rather a hovel than a house; but, pooras it was, it was as neat as misery could make it. The old woman was sitting up in her wretched bed, winding worsted; fourmeager, ill-clothed, pale children were all busy, some of them stickingpins in paper for the pin-maker, and others sorting rags for thepaper-maker. "What a horrid place it is!" said Hal, sighing; "I did not know therewere such shocking places in the world. I've often seenterrible-looking, tumble-down places, as we drove through the town inMamma's carriage; but then I did not know who lived in them; and I neversaw the inside of any of them. It is very dreadful, indeed, to thinkthat people are forced to live in this way. I wish Mamma would send mesome more pocket-money, that I might do something for them. I hadhalf-a-crown; but, " continued he, feeling in his pockets, "I'm afraid Ispent the last shilling of it this morning, upon those cakes that mademe sick. I wish I had my shilling now, I'd give it to _these poorpeople_. " Ben, though he was all this time silent, was as sorry as his talkativecousin, for all these poor people. But there was some difference betweenthe sorrow of these two boys. Hal, after he was again seated in the hackney-coach, and had rattledthrough the busy streets of Bristol for a few minutes, quite forgot thespectacle of misery which he had seen; and the gay shops in Wine-street, and the idea of his green and white uniform, wholly occupied hisimagination. "Now for our uniforms!" cried he, as he jumped eagerly out of the coach, when his uncle stopped at the woolen-draper's door. "Uncle, " said Ben, stopping Mr. Gresham before he got out of thecarriage, "I don't think a uniform is at all necessary for me. I'm verymuch obliged to you, but I would rather not have one. I have a very goodcoat--and I think it would be waste. " "Well, let me out of the carriage and we will see about it, " said Mr. Gresham "perhaps the sight of the beautiful green and white cloth, andthe epaulettes (have you ever considered the epaulettes?) may tempt youto change your mind. " "Oh, no, " said Ben, laughing; "I shall not change my mind. " The green cloth, and the white cloth, and the epaulettes, were produced, to Hal's infinite satisfaction. His uncle took up a pen, and calculatedfor a few minutes; then, showing the back of the letter, upon which hewas writing, to his nephews, "Cast up these sums, boys, " said he, "andtell me whether I am right. " "Ben, do you do it, " said Hal, a little embarrassed; "I am not quick atfigures. " Ben _was_, and he went over his uncle's calculation very expeditiously. "It is right, is it?" said Mr. Gresham. "Yes, Sir, quite right. " "Then by this calculation, I find I could for less than half the moneyyour uniforms would cost, purchase for each of you boys a warmgreat-coat, which you will want, I have a notion, this winter upon theDowns. " "Oh, Sir, " said Hal, with an alarmed look; "but it is not winter _yet_;it is not cold weather yet. We sha'n't want great-coats _yet_. " "Don't you remember how cold we were, Hal, the day before yesterday, inthat sharp wind, when we were flying our kite upon the Downs?--andwinter will come, though it is not come yet; I am sure, I should like tohave a good warm great-coat very much, " said Ben. Mr. Gresham took six guineas out of his purse; and he placed three ofthem before Hal, and three before Ben. "Young gentlemen, " said he, "I believe your uniforms would come to aboutthree guineas apiece. Now I will lay out this money for you just as youplease: Hal, what say you?" "Why, Sir, " said Hal, "a great-coat is a good thing, to be sure; andthen, after the great-coat, as you said it would only cost half as muchas the uniform, there would be some money to spare, would not there?" "Yes, my dear, about five-and-twenty shillings. " "Five-and-twenty shillings! I could buy and do a great many things, tobe sure, with five-and-twenty shillings; but then, _the thing is_, Imust go without the uniform, if I have the great-coat. " "Certainly, " said his uncle. "Ah!" said Hal, sighing as he looked at the epaulettes, "Uncle, if youwould not be displeased if I choose the uniform--" "I shall not be displeased at your choosing whatever you like best, "said Mr. Gresham. "Well, then, thank you, Sir, I think I had better have the uniform, because if I have not the uniform now directly it will be of no use tome, as the archery meeting is the week after next, you know; and as tothe great-coat, perhaps, between this time and the _very_ cold weather, which, perhaps, won't be till Christmas, Papa will buy a great-coat forme; and I'll ask Mamma to give me some pocket-money to give away, andshe will perhaps. " To all this conclusive conditional reasoning, which depended upon_perhaps_, three times repeated, Mr. Gresham made no reply; but heimmediately bought the uniform for Hal, and desired that it should besent to Lady Diana Sweepstakes' sons' tailor, to be made up. The measureof Hal's happiness was now complete. "And how am I to lay out the three guineas for you, Ben?" said Mr. Gresham. "Speak, what do you wish for first?" "A great-coat, Uncle, if you please. " Mr. Gresham bought the coat; and after it was paid for, five-and-twentyshillings of Ben's three guineas remained. "What's next, my boy?" said his uncle. "Arrows, Uncle, if you please: three arrows. " "My dear, I promised you a bow and arrows. " "No, Uncle, you only said a bow. " "Well, I meant a bow and arrows. I'm glad you are so exact, however. Itis better to claim less than more than what is promised. The threearrows you shall have. But go on: how shall I dispose of thesefive-and-twenty shillings for you?" "In clothes, if you will be so good, Uncle, for that poor boy, who hasthe great black patch on his eye. " "I always believed, " said Mr. Gresham, shaking hands with Ben, "thateconomy and generosity were the best friends, instead of being enemies, as some silly, extravagant people would have us think them. Choose thepoor blind boy's coat, my dear nephew, and pay for it. There's nooccasion for my praising you about the matter; your best reward is inyour own mind, child; and you want no other, or I'm mistaken. Now jumpinto the coach, boys, and let's be off. We shall be late, I'm afraid, "continued he, as the coach drove on; "but I must let you stop, Ben, withyour goods, at the poor boy's door. " When they came to the house, Mr. Gresham opened the coach door, and Benjumped out with his parcel under his arm. "Stay, stay! you must take me with you, " said his pleased uncle; "I liketo see people made happy as well as you do. " "And so do I too!" said Hal; "let me come with you. I almost wish myuniform was not gone to the tailor's, so I do. " And when he saw the look of delight and gratitude with which the poorboy received the clothes which Ben gave him; and when he heard themother and children thank him, Hal sighed, and said, "Well, I hope Mammawill give me some more pocket-money soon. " Upon his return home, however, the sight of the _famous_ bow and arrowwhich Lady Diana Sweepstakes had sent him, recalled to his imaginationall the joys of his green and white uniform; and he no longer wishedthat it had not been sent to the tailor's. "But I don't understand, cousin Hal, " said little Patty, "why you callthis bow a _famous_ bow; you say _famous_ very often; and I don't knowexactly what it means--a _famous_ uniform--_famous_ doings--I rememberyou said there are to be _famous_ doings the first of September upon theDowns--What does _famous_ mean?" "Oh, why _famous_ means--Now don't you know what _famous_ means? Itmeans--it is a word that people say--It is the fashion to say it. Itmeans--it means _famous_. " Patty laughed, and said, "_This_ does not explain it to me. " "No, " said Hal, "nor can it be explained: if you don't understand it, that's not my fault: everybody but little children, I suppose, understands it; but there's no explaining _those sorts_ of words, if youdon't _take them_ at once. There's to be _famous_ doings upon the Downsthe first of September; that is, grand, fine. In short, what does itsignify talking any longer, Patty, about the matter? Give me my bow; forI must go upon the Downs, and practise. " Ben accompanied him with the bow and the three arrows which his unclehad now given to him; and every day these two boys went out upon theDowns, and practised shooting with indefatigable perseverance. Whereequal pains are taken, success is usually found to be pretty nearlyequal. Our two archers, by constant practice, became expert marksmen;and before the day of trial they were so exactly matched in point ofdexterity, that it was scarcely possible to decide which was superior. The long-expected first of September at length arrived. "What sort of a day is it?" was the first question that was asked by Haland Ben, the moment that they awakened. The sun shone bright; but there was a sharp and high wind. "Ha!" said Ben, "I shall be glad of my good great-coat to-day; for I'vea notion it will be rather cold upon the Downs, especially when we arestanding still, as we must, while all the people are shooting. " "Oh, never mind! I don't think I shall feel it cold at all, " said Hal, as he dressed himself in his new white and green uniform: and he viewedhimself with much complacency. "Good morning to you, Uncle; how do you do?" said he, in a voice ofexultation, when he entered the breakfast-room. How do you do? seemed rather to mean, How do you like me in my uniform? And his uncle's cool, "Very well, I thank you, Hal, " disappointed him, as it seemed only to say, "Your uniform makes no difference in myopinion of you. " Even little Patty went on eating her breakfast much as usual, and talkedof the pleasure of walking with her father to the Downs, and of all thelittle things which interested her; so that Hal's epaulettes were notthe principal object in any one's imagination but his own. "Papa, " said Patty, "as we go up the hill where there is so much redmud, I must take care to pick my way nicely; and I must hold up myfrock, as you desired me; and perhaps you will be so good, if I am nottroublesome, to lift me over the very bad place where there are nostepping-stones. My ankle is entirely well, and I'm glad of that, orelse I should not be able to walk so far as the Downs. How good you wereto me, Ben, when I was in pain, the day I sprained my ankle! You playedat jack-straws, and at cat's-cradle with me. Oh, that puts me inmind--Here are your gloves, which I asked you that night to let me mend. I've been a great while about them, but are not they very neatly mended, Papa? Look at the sewing. " "I am not a very good judge of sewing, my dear little girl, " said Mr. Gresham, examining the work with a close and scrupulous eye; "but in myopinion, here is one stitch that is rather too long; the white teeth arenot quite even. " "O Papa, I'll take out that long tooth in a minute, " said Pattylaughing; "I did not think that you would have observed it so soon. " "I would not have you trust to my blindness, " said her father, strokingher head fondly: "I observe everything. I observe, for instance, thatyou are a grateful little girl, and that you are glad to be of use tothose who have been kind to you; and for this I forgive you the longstitch. " "But it's out, it's out, Papa, " said Patty; "and the next time yourgloves want mending, Ben, I'll mend them better. " "They are very nice, I think, " said Ben, drawing them on; "and I am muchobliged to you. I was just wishing I had a pair of gloves to keep myfingers warm to-day, for I never can shoot well when my hands arenumbed. Look, Hal--you know how ragged these gloves were; you said theywere good for nothing but to throw away; now look, there's not a hole inthem, " said he, spreading his fingers. "Now, is it not very extraordinary, " said Hal to himself, "that theyshould go on so long talking about an old pair of gloves, withoutscarcely saying a word about my new uniform? Well, the young Sweepstakesand Lady Diana will talk enough about it; that's one comfort. " "Is not it time to think of setting out, Sir?" said Hal to his uncle;"the company, you know, are to meet at the Ostrich at twelve, and therace to begin at one, and Lady Diana's horses, I know, were ordered tobe at the door at ten. " Mr. Stephen, the butler, here interrupted the hurrying young gentlemanin his calculations. "There's a poor lad, Sir, below, with a great blackpatch on his right eye, who is come from Bristol, and wants to speak aword with the young gentlemen, if you please. I told him they were justgoing out with you, but he says he won't detain them above half aminute. " "Show him up, show him up, " said Mr. Gresham. "But I suppose, " said Hal, with a sigh, "that Stephen mistook, when hesaid the young _gentlemen_; he only wants to see Ben, I dare say; I'msure he has no reason to want to see me. " "Here he comes--O Ben, he is dressed in the new coat you gave him, "whispered Hal, who was really a good-natured boy, though extravagant. "How much better he looks than he did in the ragged coat! Ah! he lookedat you first, Ben; and well he may!" The boy bowed without any cringing servility, but with an open, decentfreedom in his manner, which expressed that he had been obliged, butthat he knew his young benefactor was not thinking of the obligation. Hemade as little distinction as possible between his bows to the twocousins. "As I was sent with a message, by the clerk of our parish, to RedlandChapel, out on the Downs, to-day, Sir, " said he to Mr. Gresham, "knowingyour house lay in my way, my mother, Sir, bid me call, and make bold tooffer the young gentlemen two little worsted balls that she had workedfor them, " continued the lad, pulling out of his pocket two worstedballs worked in green and orange colored stripes: "they are but poorthings, Sir, she bid me say, to look at; but considering she had but onehand to work with, and _that_ her left hand, you'll not despise 'em, wehopes. " He held the balls to Ben and Hal. "They are both alike, gentlemen, " saidhe; "if you'll be pleased to take 'em, they are better than they look, for they bound higher than your head; I cut the cork round for theinside myself, which was all I could do. " "They are nice balls, indeed; we are much obliged to you, " said theboys, as they received them, and they proved them immediately. The ballsstruck the floor with a delightful sound, and rebounded higher than Mr. Gresham's head. Little Patty clapped her hands joyfully; but now athundering double rap at the door was heard. "The Master Sweepstakes, Sir, " said Stephen, "are come for Master Hal;they say that all the young gentlemen who have archery uniforms are towalk together in a body, I think they say, Sir; and they are to paradealong the Well-Walk, they desired me to say, Sir, with a drum and fife, and so up the hill, by Prince's Place, and all to go upon the Downstogether, to the place of meeting. I am not sure I'm right, Sir, forboth the young gentlemen spoke at once, and the wind is very high at thestreet door, so that I could not well make out all they said; but Ibelieve this is the sense of it. " "Yes, yes, " said Hal, eagerly, "it's all right; I know that is just whatwas settled the day I dined at Lady Diana's; and Lady Diana and a greatparty of gentlemen are to ride--" "Well, that is nothing to the purpose, " interrupted Mr. Gresham. "Don'tkeep the Master Sweepstakes waiting; decide--do you choose to go withthem, or with us?" "Sir--Uncle--Sir, you know, since all the _uniforms_ agreed to gotogether--" "Off with you then, Mr. Uniform, if you mean to go, " said Mr. Gresham. Hal ran downstairs in such a hurry that he forgot his bow and arrows. Ben discovered this when he went to fetch his own; and the lad fromBristol, who had been ordered by Mr. Gresham to eat his breakfast beforehe proceeded to Redland Chapel, heard Ben talking about his cousin's bowand arrows. "I know, " said Ben, "he will be sorry not to have his bow with him, because here are the green knots tied to it, to match his cockade; andhe said that the boys were all to carry their bows as part of theshow. " "If you'll give me leave, sir, " said the poor Bristol lad, "I shall haveplenty of time; and I'll run down to the Well-Walk after the younggentleman, and take him his bow and arrows. " "Will you? I shall be much obliged to you, " said Ben; and away went theboy with the bow that was ornamented with green ribands. The public walk leading to the Wells was full of company. The windows ofall the houses in St. Vincent's parade were crowded with well-dressedladies, who were looking out in expectation of the archery procession. Parties of gentlemen and ladies, and a motley crowd of spectators, wereseen moving backwards and forwards under the rocks, on the opposite sideof the water. A barge, with colored streamers flying, was waiting totake up a party, who were going upon the water. The bargemen rested upontheir oars, and gazed with broad faces of curiosity on the busy scenethat appeared upon the public walk. The archers and archeresses were now drawn up on the flags under thesemi-circular piazza just before Mrs. Yearsley's library. A little bandof children, who had been mustered by Lady Diana Sweepstakes' _spiritedexertions_, closed the procession. They were now all in readiness. Thedrummer only waited for her ladyship's signal; and the archers' corpsonly waited for her ladyship's word of command to march. "Where are your bow and arrows, my little man?" said her ladyship toHal, as she reviewed her Lilliputian regiment. "You can't march, man, without your arms!" Hal had dispatched a messenger for his forgotten bow, but the messengerreturned not; he looked from side to side in great distress. "Oh, there's my bow coming, I declare!" cried he; "look, I see the bow andthe ribands; look now, between the trees, Charles Sweepstakes, on theHot-well Walk; it is coming. " "But you've kept us all waiting a confounded time, " said his impatientfriend. "It is that good-natured poor fellow from Bristol, I protest, that hasbrought it to me; I'm sure I don't deserve it from him, " said Hal tohimself, when he saw the lad with the black patch on his eye runningquite out of breath towards him with his bow and arrows. "Fall back, my good friend, fall back, " said the military lady, as soonas he had delivered the bow to Hal: "I mean stand out of the way, foryour great patch cuts no figure amongst us. Don't follow so close, now, as if you belonged to us, pray. " The poor boy had no ambition to partake the triumph; he _fell back_ assoon as he understood the meaning of the lady's words. The drum beat, the fife played, the archers marched, the spectators admired. Halstepped proudly, and felt as if the eyes of the whole universe were uponhis epaulettes, or upon the facings of his uniform; whilst all the timehe was considered only as part of a show. The walk appeared much shorterthan usual; and he was extremely sorry that Lady Diana, when they werehalf way up the hill leading to Prince's Place, mounted her horse, because the road was dirty, and all the gentlemen and ladies whoaccompanied her, followed her example. "We can leave the children towalk, you know, " said she to the gentleman who helped her to mount herhorse. "I must call to some of them, though, and leave orders where theyare to _join_. " She beckoned: and Hal, who was foremost, and proud to show his alacrity, ran on to receive her ladyship's orders. Now, as we have beforeobserved, it was a sharp and windy day; and though Lady DianaSweepstakes was actually speaking to him, and looking at him, he couldnot prevent his nose from wanting to be blown; he pulled out hishandkerchief, and out rolled the new ball, which had been given to himjust before he left home, and which, according to his usual carelesshabits, he had stuffed into his pocket in a hurry. "Oh, my new ball!"cried he, as he ran after it. As he stooped to pick it up, he let go hishat, which he had hitherto held on with anxious care; for the hat, though it had a fine green and white cockade, had no band or stringround it. The string, as we may recollect, our wasteful hero had used inspinning his top. The hat was too large for his head without this band;a sudden gust of wind blew it off--Lady Diana's horse started andreared. She was a _famous_ horse-woman, and sat him to the admiration ofall beholders; but there was a puddle of red clay and water in thisspot, and her ladyship's uniform-habit was a sufferer by the accident. "Careless brat!" said she. "Why can't he keep his hat upon his head?" In the meantime, the wind blew the hat down the hill, and Hal ran afterit, amidst the laughter of his kind friends, the young Sweepstakes, andthe rest of the little regiment. The hat was lodged at length, upon abank. Hal pursued it: he thought this bank was hard. But, alas! themoment he set his foot upon it, the foot sank. He tried to draw it back, his other foot slipped, and he fell prostrate, in his green and whiteuniform, into the treacherous bed of red mud. His companions, who hadhalted upon the top of the hill, stood laughing spectators of hismisfortune. It happened that the poor boy with the black patch upon his eye, who hadbeen ordered by Lady Diana to "_fall back_" and to "_keep at adistance_, " was now coming up the hill; and the moment he saw our fallenhero, he hastened to his assistance. He dragged poor Hal, who was adeplorable spectacle, out of the red mud; the obliging mistress of alodging-house, as soon as she understood that the young gentleman wasnephew to Mr. Gresham, to whom she had formerly let her house, receivedHal, covered as he was with dirt. The poor Bristol lad hastened to Mr. Gresham's for clean stockings andshoes for Hal. He was unwilling to give up his uniform; it was rubbedand rubbed, and a spot here and there was washed out; and he keptcontinually repeating, "When it's dry it will all brush off; when it'sdry it will all brush off, won't it?" But soon the fear of being toolate at the archery meeting began to balance the dread of appearing inhis stained habiliments; and he now as anxiously repeated, while thewoman held the wet coat to the fire, "Oh, I shall be too late; indeed Ishall be too late; make haste; it will never dry: hold it nearer--nearerto the fire. I shall lose my turn to shoot. Oh, give me the coat; Idon't mind how it is, if I can but get it on. " Holding it nearer and nearer to the fire dried it quickly, to be sure, but it shrank it also, so that it was no easy matter to get the coat onagain. However, Hal, who did not see the red splashes, which, in spite of allthe operations, were too visible upon his shoulders and upon the skirtsof his white coat behind, was pretty well satisfied to observe thatthere was not one spot upon the facings. "Nobody, " said he, "will takenotice of my coat behind, I dare say. I think it looks as smart almostas ever!" and under this persuasion our young archer resumed hisbow--his bow with green ribands now no more! And he pursued his way tothe Downs. All his companions were far out of sight. "I suppose, " said he to hisfriend with the black patch, "I suppose my uncle and Ben had left homebefore you went for the shoes and stockings for me?" "Oh, yes, Sir; the butler said they had been gone to the Downs a matterof a good half hour or more. " Hal trudged on as fast as he possibly could. When he got on the Downs, he saw numbers of carriages, and crowds of people, all going towards theplace of meeting, at the Ostrich. He pressed forwards; he was at firstso much afraid of being late, that he did not take notice of the mirthhis motley appearance excited in all beholders. At length he reached theappointed spot. There was a great crowd of people. In the midst, heheard Lady Diana's loud voice betting upon some one who was just goingto shoot at the mark. "So then, the shooting is begun, is it?" said Hal. "Oh, let me in; praylet me into the circle! I'm one of the archers--I am, indeed; don't yousee my green and white uniform?" "Your red and white uniform, you mean, " said the man to whom headdressed himself: and the people, as they opened a passage for him, could not refrain from laughing at the mixture of dirt and finery whichit exhibited. In vain, when he got into the midst of the formidablecircle, he looked to his friends, the young Sweepstakes, for theircountenance and support: they were amongst the most unmerciful of thelaughers. Lady Diana also seemed more to enjoy than to pity hisconfusion. "Why could you not keep your hat upon your head, man?" said she, in hermasculine tone. "You have been almost the ruin of my poor uniform-habit;but I've escaped rather better than you have. Don't stand there in themiddle of the circle, or you'll have an arrow in your eye presently, I've a notion. " Hal looked round in search of better friends. "Oh, where's myuncle?--where's Ben, " said he. He was in such confusion, that, amongstthe number of faces, he could scarcely distinguish one from another; buthe felt somebody at this moment pull his elbow, and, to his greatrelief, he heard the friendly voice, and saw the good-natured face, ofhis cousin Ben. "Come back; come behind these people, " said Ben, "and put on mygreat-coat; here it is for you. " Right glad was Hal to cover his disgraced uniform with the roughgreat-coat, which he had formerly despised. He pulled the stained, drooping cockade out of his unfortunate hat; and he was now sufficientlyrecovered from his vexation to give an intelligible account of hisaccident to his uncle and Patty, who anxiously inquired what haddetained him so long, and what had been the matter. In the midst of thehistory of his disaster, he was just proving to Patty that his takingthe hat-band to spin his top had nothing to do with his misfortune; andhe was at the same time endeavoring to refute his uncle's opinion, thatthe waste of the whipcord that tied the parcel, was the original causeof all his evils, when he was summoned to try his skill with his_famous_ bow. "My hands are numbed; I can scarcely feel, " said he, rubbing them, andblowing upon the ends of his fingers. "Come, come, " cried young Sweepstakes, "I'm within one inch of the mark;who'll go nearer, I should like to see. Shoot away, Hal; but first, understand our laws: we settled them before you came on the green. Youare to have three shots, with your own bow and your own arrows; andnobody's to borrow or lend under pretence of other bows being better orworse, or under any pretence. Do you hear, Hal?" This young gentleman had good reasons for being so strict in these laws, as he had observed that none of his companions had such an excellent bowas he had provided for himself. Some of the boys had forgotten to bringmore than one arrow with them, and by his cunning regulation, that eachperson should shoot with his own arrows, many had lost one or two oftheir shots. "You are a lucky fellow; you have your three arrows, " said youngSweepstakes. "Come, we can't wait whilst you rub your fingers, man--shoot away. " Hal was rather surprised at the asperity with which his friend spoke. Helittle knew how easily acquaintances, who call themselves friends, canchange, when their interest comes, in the slightest degree, incompetition with their friendship. Hurried by his impatient rival, andwith his hand so much benumbed that he could scarcely feel how to fixthe arrow in the string, he drew the bow. The arrow was within a quarterof an inch of Master Sweepstakes' mark, which was the nearest that hadyet been hit. Hal seized his second arrow. "If I have any luck, " said hebut just as he pronounced the word _luck_ and as he bent his bow, thestring broke in two, and the bow fell from his hands. "There, it's all over with you, " cried Master Sweepstakes, with atriumphant laugh. "Here's my bow for him and welcome, " said Ben. "No, no, Sir; that is not fair; that's against the regulation. You mayshoot with your own bow, if you choose it, or you may not, just as youthink proper but you must not lend it, Sir. " It was now Ben's turn to make his trial. His first arrow was notsuccessful. His second was exactly as near as Hal's first. "You have but one more, " said Master Sweepstakes: "now for it!" Ben, before he ventured his last arrow prudently examined the string ofhis bow; and as he pulled it to try its strength, it cracked. Master Sweepstakes clapped his hands with loud exultations, andinsulting laughter. But his laughter ceased when our provident herocalmly drew from his pocket an excellent piece of whipcord. "The everlasting whipcord, I declare!" exclaimed Hal, when he saw thatit was the very same that had tied up the parcel. "Yes, " said Ben, as he fastened it to his bow, "I put it into my pocketto-day, on purpose, because I thought I might happen to want it. " He drew his bow the third and last time. "O Papa, " cried little Patty, as his arrow hit the mark, "it's thenearest, is not it the nearest?" Master Sweepstakes, with anxiety, examined the hit. There could be nodoubt. Ben was victorious! The bow, the prize bow, was now delivered tohim; and Hal, as he looked at the whipcord, exclaimed, "How _lucky_ thiswhipcord has been to you, Ben!" "It is _lucky_ perhaps you mean, that he took care of it, " said Mr. Gresham. "Ay, " said Hal, "very true; he might well say, 'Waste not, want not'; itis a good thing to have two strings to one's bow. " 382 Only a few of those who have written immediately for children have produced work distinguished by the same high artistic qualities found in the work of writers for readers of mature minds. Of these few one is Mrs. Juliana Horatia Ewing (1841-1885). Edmund Gosse has said that of the numerous English authors who have written successfully on or for children only two "have shown a clear recollection of the mind of healthy childhood itself. . . . Mrs. Ewing in prose and Mr. Stevenson in verse have sat down with them without disturbing their fancies, and have looked into the world of 'make-believe' with the children's own eyes. " They might lead, he thinks, "a long romp in the attic when nurse was out shopping, and not a child in the house should know that a grown-up person had been there. " This is very high praise indeed and it suggests the reason for the immense popularity of "Jackanapes, " "The Story of a Short Life, " "Daddy Darwin's Dovecot, " "Lob-Lie-by-the-Fire, " "Mrs. Overtheway's Remembrances, " and many another of the stories that delighted young readers when they first appeared in the pages of _Aunt Judy's Magazine_. The preëminence of "Jackanapes" among these many splendid stories may at least partly be accounted for by the fact that it grew out of the heat of a great conviction about life. Early in 1879 the news reached England of the death of the Prince Imperial of France, who fell while serving with the English forces in South Africa during the war with the Zulus. Perhaps the present-day reader needs to be reminded that the Prince Imperial was the only son of the ex-Empress Eugenie, who, with her husband Napoleon III had taken refuge in England after the loss of the French throne at the close of the Franco-Prussian War in 1871. Napoleon's death shortly after made the young prince a central figure in all considerations of the possible recouping of the fortunes of the Napoleonic dynasty. Full of the spirit of adventure and courage, he had joined the English forces to learn something of the soldier's profession. Unexpectedly ambushed, the prince was killed while the young officer who had been assigned to look after him escaped unhurt. There immediately ensued a wide discussion of the action of this young officer in saving himself and, apparently, leaving the Prince to his fate. Now, Mrs. Ewing was a soldier's wife and believed in the standard of honor which would naturally be reflected in military circles on such an incident. But hearing the rule of "each man for himself" so often emphasized in other circles, she was moved to write the protest against such a view which forms the central motive in "Jackanapes. " There is no argument, however, no undue moralizing. With the finest art she embodies that central doctrine in a great faith that the saving of a man's life lies in his readiness to lose it. It was Satan who said, "Skin for skin, yea, all that a man hath will he give for his life. " The pathos in the story is naturally inherent in the situation and is never emphasized for its own sake. Mrs. Ewing was always a thoroughly conscientious artist. She believed that the laws of artistic composition laid down by Ruskin in his _Elements of Drawing_ applied with equal force to literature. "For example, " says her brother in an article on her methods, "in the story of 'Jackanapes' the law of Principality is very clearly demonstrated. Jackanapes is the one important figure. The doting aunt, the weak-kneed but faithful Tony Johnson, the irascible general, the punctilious postman, the loyal boy-trumpeter, the silent major, and the ever-dear, faithful, loving Lollo, --all and each of them conspire with one consent to reflect forth the glory and beauty of the noble, generous, recklessly brave, and gently tender spirit of the hero 'Jackanapes. '" As to the laws of repetition and contrast: "Again and again is the village green introduced to the imagination. It is a picture of eternal peace and quietness, amid the tragedies of our ever-changing life which are enacted around it. " JACKANAPES JULIANA HORATIA EWING CHAPTER I Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal sound of strife, The morn the marshaling in arms--the day Battle's magnificently stern array! The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent The earth is covered thick with other clay, Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, Rider and horse, --friend, foe, --in one red burial blent. Their praise is hymn'd by loftier harps than mine: Yet one would I select from that proud throng. * * * * * To thee, to thousands, of whom each And one and all a ghastly gap did make In his own kind and kindred, whom to teach Forgetfulness were mercy for their sake; The Archangel's trump, not glory's, must awake Those whom they thirst for. --BYRON Two Donkeys and the Geese lived on the Green, and all other residents ofany social standing lived in houses round it. The houses had no names. Everybody's address was "The Green, " but the Postman and the people ofthe place knew where each family lived. As to the rest of the world, what has one to do with the rest of the world when he is safe at home onhis own Goose Green? Moreover, if a stranger did come on any lawfulbusiness, he might ask his way at the shop. Most of the inhabitants werelong-lived, early deaths (like that of the little Miss Jessamine) beingexceptional; and most of the old people were proud of their age, especially the sexton, who would be ninety-nine come Martinmas, andwhose father remembered a man who had carried arrows, as a boy, for thebattle of Flodden Field. The Gray Goose and the big Miss Jessamine werethe only elderly persons who kept their ages secret. Indeed, MissJessamine never mentioned any one's age, or recalled the exact year inwhich anything had happened. She said that she had been taught that itwas bad manners to do so "in a mixed assembly. " The Gray Goose alsoavoided dates; but this was partly because her brain, thoughintelligent, was not mathematical, and computation was beyond her. Shenever got farther than "last Michaelmas, " "the Michaelmas before that, "and "the Michaelmas before the Michaelmas before that. " After this herhead, which was small, became confused, and she said, "Ga, ga!" andchanged the subject. But she remembered the little Miss Jessamine, the Miss Jessamine withthe "conspicuous hair. " Her aunt, the big Miss Jessamine, said it washer only fault. The hair was clean, was abundant, was glossy; but dowhat you would with it, it never looked quite like other people's. Andat church, after Saturday night's wash, it shone like the best brassfender after a spring cleaning. In short, it was conspicuous, which doesnot become a young woman, especially in church. Those were worrying times altogether, and the Green was used for strangepurposes. A political meeting was held on it with the village Cobbler inthe chair, and a speaker who came by stage-coach from the town, wherethey had wrecked the bakers' shops, and discussed the price of bread. Hecame a second time by stage; but the people had heard something abouthim in the meanwhile, and they did not keep him on the Green. They tookhim to the pond and tried to make him swim, which he could not do, andthe whole affair was very disturbing to all quiet and peaceable fowls. After which another man came, and preached sermons on the Green, and agreat many people went to hear him; for those were "trying times, " andfolk ran hither and thither for comfort. And then what did they do butdrill the ploughboys on the Green, to get them ready to fight theFrench, and teach them the goose-step! However, that came to an end atlast; for Bony was sent to St. Helena, and the ploughboys were sent backto the plough. Everybody lived in fear of Bony in those days, especially the naughtychildren, who were kept in order during the day by threats of "Bonyshall have you, " and who had nightmares about him in the dark. Theythought he was an Ogre in a cocked hat. The Gray Goose thought he was aFox, and that all the men of England were going out in red coats to hunthim. It was no use to argue the point; for she had a very small head, and when one idea got into it there was no room for another. Besides, the Gray Goose never saw Bony, nor did the children, whichrather spoilt the terror of him, so that the Black Captain became moreeffective as a Bogy with hardened offenders. The Gray Goose remembered_his_ coming to the place perfectly. What he came for she did notpretend to know. It was all part and parcel of the war and bad times. Hewas called the Black Captain, partly because of himself and partlybecause of his wonderful black mare. Strange stories were afloat of howfar and how fast that mare could go when her master's hand was on hermane and he whispered in her ear. Indeed, some people thought we mightreckon ourselves very lucky if we were not out of the frying-pan intothe fire, and had not got a certain well-known Gentleman of the Road toprotect us against the French. But that, of course, made him none theless useful to the Johnsons' Nurse when the little Miss Johnsons werenaughty. "You leave off crying this minnit, Miss Jane, or I'll give you rightaway to that horrid wicked officer. Jemima! just look out o' the windy, if you please, and see if the Black Cap'n's a-coming with his horse tocarry away Miss Jane. " And there, sure enough, the Black Captain strode by, with his swordclattering as if it did not know whose head to cut off first. But he didnot call for Miss Jane that time. He went on to the Green, where he cameso suddenly upon the eldest Master Johnson, sitting in a puddle onpurpose, in his new nankeen skeleton suit, that the young gentlemanthought judgment had overtaken him at last, and abandoned himself to thehowlings of despair. His howls were redoubled when he was clutched frombehind and swung over the Black Captain's shoulder; but in five minuteshis tears were stanched, and he was playing with the officer'saccoutrements. All of which the Gray Goose saw with her own eyes, andheard afterwards that that bad boy had been whining to go back to theBlack Captain ever since, which showed how hardened he was, and thatnobody but Bonaparte himself could be expected to do him any good. But those were "trying times. " It was bad enough when the pickle of alarge and respectable family cried for the Black Captain; when it cameto the little Miss Jessamine crying for him, one felt that the soonerthe French landed and had done with it, the better. The big Miss Jessamine's objection to him was that he was a soldier; andthis prejudice was shared by all the Green. "A soldier, " as the speakerfrom the town had observed, "is a bloodthirsty, unsettled sort of arascal, that the peaceable, home-loving, bread-winning citizen can neverconscientiously look on as a brother till he has beaten his sword into aploughshare and his spear into a pruning-hook. " On the other hand, there was some truth in what the Postman (an oldsoldier) said in reply, --that the sword has to cut a way for us out ofmany a scrape into which our bread-winners get us when they drive theirploughshares into fallows that don't belong to them. Indeed, whilst ourmost peaceful citizens were prosperous chiefly by means of cotton, ofsugar, and of the rise and fall of the money-market (not to speak ofsuch salable matters as opium, firearms, and "black ivory"), disturbances were apt to arise in India, Africa, and other outlandishparts, where the fathers of our domestic race were making fortunes fortheir families. And for that matter, even on the Green, we did not wishthe military to leave us in the lurch, so long as there was any fearthat the French were coming. [3] To let the Black Captain have little Miss Jessamine, however, wasanother matter. Her aunt would not hear of it; and then, to crown all, it appeared that the Captain's father did not think the young lady goodenough for his son. Never was any affair more clearly brought to aconclusion. But those were "trying times"; and one moonlight night, when the GrayGoose was sound asleep upon one leg, the Green was rudely shaken underher by the thud of a horse's feet. "Ga, ga!" said she, putting down theother leg and running away. By the time she returned to her place not a thing was to be seen orheard. The horse had passed like a shot. But next day there was hurryingand scurrying and cackling at a very early hour, all about the whitehouse with the black beams, where Miss Jessamine lived. And when the sunwas so low and the shadows so long on the grass that the Gray Goose feltready to run away at the sight of her own neck, little Miss Jane Johnsonand her "particular friend" Clarinda sat under the big oak tree on theGreen, and Jane pinched Clarinda's little finger till she found that shecould keep a secret, and then she told her in confidence that she hadheard from Nurse and Jemima that Miss Jessamine's niece had been a verynaughty girl, and that that horrid wicked officer had come for her onhis black horse and carried her right away. "Will she never come back?" asked Clarinda. "Oh, no!" said Jane, decidedly. "Bony never brings people back. " "Not never no more?" sobbed Clarinda, for she was weak-minded, and couldnot bear to think that Bony never, never let naughty people go homeagain. Next day Jane had heard more. "He has taken her to a Green. " "A Goose Green?" asked Clarinda. "No. A Gretna Green. Don't ask so many questions, child, " said Jane, who, having no more to tell, gave herself airs. Jane was wrong on one point. Miss Jessamine's niece did come back, andshe and her husband were forgiven. The Gray Goose remembered it well; itwas Michaelmas-tide, the Michaelmas before the Michaelmas before theMichaelmas--but, ga, ga! What does the date matter? It was autumn, harvest-time, and everybody was so busy prophesying and praying aboutthe crops, that the young couple wandered through the lanes, and gotblackberries for Miss Jessamine's celebrated crab and blackberry jam, and made guys of themselves with bryony wreaths, and not a soul troubledhis head about them, except the children and the Postman. The childrendogged the Black Captain's footsteps (his bubble reputation as an Ogrehaving burst) clamoring for a ride on the black mare. And the Postmanwould go somewhat out of his postal way to catch the Captain's dark eye, and show that he had not forgotten how to salute an officer. But they were "trying times. " One afternoon the black mare was steppinggently up and down the grass, with her head at her master's shoulder, and as many children crowded on to her silky back as if she had been anelephant in a menagerie; and the next afternoon she carried him away, sword and _sabre-tache_ clattering war music at her side, and the oldPostman waiting for them, rigid with salutation, at the fourcross-roads. War and bad times! It was a hard winter; and the big Miss Jessamine andthe little Miss Jessamine (but she was Mrs. Black-Captain now) livedvery economically, that they might help their poorer neighbors. Theyneither entertained nor went into company; but the young lady alwayswent up the village as far as the _George and Dragon_, for air andexercise when the London Mail[4] came in. One day (it was a day in the following June) it came in earlier thanusual, and the young lady was not there to meet it. But a crowd soon gathered round the _George and Dragon_, gaping to seethe Mail Coach dressed with flowers and oak-leaves, and the guardwearing a laurel wreath over and above his royal livery. The ribbonsthat decked the horses were stained and flecked with the warmth and foamof the pace at which they had come, for they had pressed on with thenews of Victory. Miss Jessamine was sitting with her niece under the oak tree on theGreen, when the Postman put a newspaper silently into her hand. Herniece turned quickly, -- "Is there news?" "Don't agitate yourself, my dear, " said her aunt. "I will read it aloud, and then we can enjoy it together; a far more comfortable method, mylove, than when you go up the village, and come home out of breath, having snatched half the news as you run. " "I am all attention, dear aunt, " said the little lady, clasping herhands tightly on her lap. Then Miss Jessamine read aloud, --she was proud of her reading, --and theold soldier stood at attention behind her, with such a blending of prideand pity on his face as it was strange to see:-- "Downing Street _June_ 22, 1815, 1 A. M. " "That's one in the morning, " gasped the Postman; "beg your pardon, mum. " But though he apologized, he could not refrain from echoing here andthere a weighty word: "Glorious victory, "--"Two hundred pieces ofartillery, "--"Immense quantity of ammunition, "--and so forth. "The loss of the British Army upon this occasion has unfortunately been most severe. It had not been possible to make out a return of the killed and wounded when Major Percy left headquarters. The names of the officers killed and wounded, as far as they can be collected, are annexed. I have the honor--" "The list, aunt! Read the list!" "My love--my darling--let us go in and--" "No. Now! now!" To one thing the supremely afflicted are entitled in their sorrow, --tobe obeyed; and yet it is the last kindness that people commonly will dothem. But Miss Jessamine did. Steadying her voice, as best she might, she read on; and the old soldier stood bareheaded to hear that firstRoll of the Dead at Waterloo, which began with the Duke of Brunswick andended with Ensign Brown. [5] Five-and-thirty British Captains fell asleepthat day on the Bed of Honor, and the Black Captain slept among them. * * * * * There are killed and wounded by war of whom no returns reach DowningStreet. Three days later, the Captain's wife had joined him, and Miss Jessaminewas kneeling by the cradle of their orphan son, a purple-red morsel ofhumanity with conspicuously golden hair. "Will he live, Doctor?" "Live? God bless my soul, ma'am. Look at him! The young Jackanapes!" CHAPTER II And he wandered away and away With Nature, the dear old Nurse. --LONGFELLOW The Gray Goose remembered quite well the year that Jackanapes began towalk, for it was the year that the speckled hen for the first time inall her motherly life got out of patience when she was sitting. She hadbeen rather proud of the eggs, --they were unusually large, --but shenever felt quite comfortable on them, and whether it was because sheused to get cramp and go off the nest, or because the season was bad, orwhat, she never could tell; but every egg was addled but one, and theone that did hatch gave her more trouble than any chick she had everreared. It was a fine, downy, bright yellow little thing, but it had a monstrousbig nose and feet, and such an ungainly walk as she knew no otherinstance of in her well-bred and high-stepping family. And as tobehavior, it was not that it was either quarrelsome or moping, butsimply unlike the rest. When the other chicks hopped and cheeped on theGreen about their mother's feet, this solitary yellow brat went waddlingoff on its own responsibility, and do or cluck what the speckled henwould, it went to play in the pond. It was off one day as usual, and the hen was fussing and fuming afterit, when the Postman, going to deliver a letter at Miss Jessamine'sdoor, was nearly knocked over by the good lady herself, who, burstingout of the house with her cap just off and her bonnet just not on, fellinto his arms, crying, -- "Baby! Baby! Jackanapes! Jackanapes!" If the Postman loved anything on earth, he loved the Captain'syellow-haired child; so, propping Miss Jessamine against her owndoor-post, he followed the direction of her trembling fingers and madefor the Green. Jackanapes had had the start of the Postman by nearly ten minutes. Theworld--the round green world with an oak tree on it--was just becomingvery interesting to him. He had tried, vigorously but ineffectually, tomount a passing pig the last time he was taken out walking; but then hewas encumbered with a nurse. Now he was his own master, and might, bycourage and energy, become the master of that delightful downy, dumpy, yellow thing that was bobbing along over the green grass in front ofhim. Forward! Charge! He aimed well, and grabbed it, but only to feelthe delicious downiness and dumpiness slipping through his fingers as hefell upon his face. "Quawk!" said the yellow thing, and wabbled offsideways. It was this oblique movement that enabled Jackanapes to comeup with it, for it was bound for the Pond, and therefore obliged to comeback into line. He failed again from top-heaviness, and his prey escapedsideways as before, and, as before, lost ground in getting back to thedirect road to the Pond. And at the Pond the Postman found them both, --one yellow thing rockingsafely on the ripples that lie beyond duckweed, and the other washinghis draggled frock with tears because he too had tried to sit upon thePond and it wouldn't hold him. CHAPTER III If studious, copie fair what time hath blurred, Redeem truth from his jawes: if souldier, Chase brave employments with a naked sword Throughout the world. Fool not; for all may have, If they dare try, a glorious life, or grave. * * * * * In brief, acquit thee bravely; play the man. Look not on pleasures as they come, but go. Defer not the least vertue: life's poore span Make not an ell, by trifling in thy woe. If thou do ill, the joy fades, not the pains. If well: the pain doth fade, the joy remains. --GEORGE HERBERT Young Mrs. Johnson, who was a mother of many, hardly knew which to pitymore, --Miss Jessamine for having her little ways and her antimacassarsrumpled by a young Jackanapes, or the boy himself for being brought upby an old maid. Oddly enough, she would probably have pitied neither, had Jackanapesbeen a girl. (One is so apt to think that what works smoothest, works tothe highest ends, having no patience for the results of friction. ) Thatfather in God who bade the young men to be pure and the maidens brave, greatly disturbed a member of his congregation, who thought that thegreat preacher had made a slip of the tongue. "That the girls should have purity, and the boys courage, is what youwould say, good father?" "Nature has done that, " was the reply; "I meant what I said. " In good sooth, a young maid is all the better for learning some robustervirtues than maidenliness and not to move the antimacassars; and therobuster virtues require some fresh air and freedom. As, on the otherhand, Jackanapes (who had a boy's full share of the little beast and theyoung monkey in his natural composition) was none the worse, at histender years, for learning some maidenliness, --so far as maidenlinessmeans decency, pity, unselfishness, and pretty behavior. And it is due to him to say that he was an obedient boy, and a boy whoseword could be depended on, long before his grandfather the General cameto live at the Green. He was obedient; that is, he did what his great-aunt told him. But--oh, dear! oh, dear!--the pranks he played, which it had never entered intoher head to forbid! It was when he had just been put into skeletons (frocks never suitedhim) that he became very friendly with Master Tony Johnson, a youngerbrother of the young gentleman who sat in the puddle on purpose. Tonywas not enterprising, and Jackanapes led him by the nose. One summer'sevening they were out late, and Miss Jessamine was becoming anxious, when Jackanapes presented himself with a ghastly face all besmirchedwith tears. He was unusually subdued. "I'm afraid, " he sobbed, --"if you please, I'm very much afraid that TonyJohnson's dying in the churchyard. " Miss Jessamine was just beginning to be distracted, when she smeltJackanapes. "You naughty, naughty boys! Do you mean to tell me that you've beensmoking?" "Not pipes, " urged Jackanapes; "upon my honor, aunty, not pipes. Onlycigars like Mr. Johnson's! and only made of brown paper with a very, very little tobacco from the shop inside them. " Whereupon Miss Jessamine sent a servant to the churchyard, who foundTony Johnson lying on a tombstone, very sick, and having ceased toentertain any hopes of his own recovery. If it could be possible that any "unpleasantness" could arise betweentwo such amiable neighbors as Miss Jessamine and Mrs. Johnson, and ifthe still more incredible paradox can be that ladies may differ over apoint on which they are agreed, that point was the admitted fact thatTony Johnson was "delicate"; and the difference lay chiefly in this:Mrs. Johnson said that Tony was delicate, --meaning that he was morefinely strung, more sensitive, a properer subject for pampering andpetting, than Jackanapes, and that, consequently, Jackanapes was toblame for leading Tony into scrapes which resulted in his being chilled, frightened, or (most frequently) sick. But when Miss Jessamine said thatTony Johnson was delicate, she meant that he was more puling, lessmanly, and less healthily brought up than Jackanapes, who, when they gotinto mischief together, was certainly not to blame because his friendcould not get wet, sit a kicking donkey, ride in the giddy-go-round, bear the noise of a cracker, or smoke brown paper with impunity, as hecould. Not that there was ever the slightest quarrel between the ladies. Itnever even came near it, except the day after Tony had been so verysick with riding Bucephalus on the giddy-go-round. Mrs. Johnson hadexplained to Miss Jessamine that the reason Tony was so easily upset wasthe unusual sensitiveness (as a doctor had explained it to her) of thenervous centers in her family--"Fiddlestick!" So Mrs. Johnson understoodMiss Jessamine to say; but it appeared that she only said"Treaclestick!" which is quite another thing, and of which Tony wasundoubtedly fond. It was at the Fair that Tony was made ill by riding on Bucephalus. Oncea year the Goose Green became the scene of a carnival. First of all, carts and caravans were rumbling up all along, day and night. Jackanapescould hear them as he lay in bed, and could hardly sleep for speculatingwhat booths and whirligigs he should find fairly established when he andhis dog Spitfire went out after breakfast. As a matter of fact, heseldom had to wait so long for news of the Fair. The Postman knew thewindow out of which Jackanapes's yellow head would come, and was readywith his report. "Royal Theayter, Master Jackanapes, in the old place, but be careful o'them seats, sir; they're rickettier than ever. Two sweets and a gingerbeer under the Oak tree, and the Flying Boats is just a-coming along theroad. " No doubt it was partly because he had already suffered severely in theFlying Boats that Tony collapsed so quickly in the giddy-go-round. Heonly mounted Bucephalus (who was spotted, and had no tail) becauseJackanapes urged him, and held out the ingenious hope that theround-and-round feeling would very likely cure the up-and-downsensation. It did not, however, and Tony tumbled off during the firstrevolution. Jackanapes was not absolutely free from qualms; but having once mountedthe Black Prince, he stuck to him as a horseman should. During the firstround he waved his hat, and observed with some concern that the BlackPrince had lost an ear since last Fair; at the second, he looked alittle pale, but sat upright, though somewhat unnecessarily rigid; atthe third round he shut his eyes. During the fourth his hat fell off, and he clasped his horse's neck. By the fifth he had laid his yellowhead against the Black Prince's mane, and so clung anyhow till thehobby-horses stopped, when the proprietor assisted him to alight, and hesat down rather suddenly and said he had enjoyed it very much. The Gray Goose always ran away at the first approach of the caravans, and never came back to the Green till there was nothing left of the Fairbut footmarks and oyster-shells. Running away was her pet principle; theonly system, she maintained, by which you can live long and easily andlose nothing. If you run away when you see danger, you can come backwhen all is safe. Run quickly, return slowly, hold your head high, andgabble as loud as you can, and you'll preserve the respect of the GooseGreen to a peaceful old age. Why should you struggle and get hurt, ifyou can lower your head and swerve, and not lose a feather?! Why in theworld should any one spoil the pleasure of life, or risk his skin, if hecan help it? "'What's the use?' Said the Goose. " Before answering which one might have to consider what world, whichlife, and whether his skin were a goose-skin; but the Gray Goose's headwould never have held all that. Grass soon grows over footprints, and the village children took theoyster-shells to trim their gardens with; but the year after Tony rodeBucephalus there lingered another relic of Fair-time in which Jackanapeswas deeply interested. "The Green" proper was originally only part of astraggling common, which in its turn merged into some wilder waste landwhere gypsies sometimes squatted if the authorities would allow them, especially after the annual Fair. And it was after the Fair thatJackanapes, out rambling by himself, was knocked over by the Gypsy's sonriding the Gypsy's red-haired pony at breakneck pace across the common. Jackanapes got up and shook himself, none the worse except for beingheels over head in love with the red-haired pony. What a rate he wentat! How he spurned the ground with his nimble feet! How his red coatshone in the sunshine! And what bright eyes peeped out of his darkforelock as it was blown by the wind! The Gypsy boy had had a fright, and he was willing enough to rewardJackanapes for not having been hurt, by consenting to let him have aride. "Do you mean to kill the little fine gentleman, and swing us all on thegibbet, you rascal?" screamed the Gypsy mother, who came up just asJackanapes and the pony set off. "He would get on, " replied her son. "It'll not kill him. He'll fall onhis yellow head, and it's as tough as a cocoanut. " But Jackanapes did not fall. He stuck to the red-haired pony as he hadstuck to the hobby-horse; but, oh, how different the delight of thiswild gallop with flesh and blood! Just as his legs were beginning tofeel as if he did not feel them, the Gypsy boy cried, "Lollo!" Roundwent the pony so unceremoniously that with as little ceremony Jackanapesclung to his neck; and he did not properly recover himself before Lollostopped with a jerk at the place where they had started. "Is his name Lollo?" asked Jackanapes, his hand lingering in the wirymane. "Yes. " "What does Lollo mean?" "Red. " "Is Lollo your pony?" "No. My father's. " And the Gypsy boy led Lollo away. At the first opportunity Jackanapes stole away again to the common. Thistime he saw the Gypsy father, smoking a dirty pipe. "Lollo is your pony, isn't he?" said Jackanapes. "Yes. " "He's a very nice one. " "He's a racer. " "You don't want to sell him, do you?" "Fifteen pounds, " said the Gypsy father; and Jackanapes sighed and wenthome again. That very afternoon he and Tony rode the two donkeys; andTony managed to get thrown, and even Jackanapes's donkey kicked. But itwas jolting, clumsy work after the elastic swiftness and the daintymischief of the red-haired pony. A few days later, Miss Jessamine spoke very seriously to Jackanapes. Shewas a good deal agitated as she told him that his grandfather theGeneral was coming to the Green, and that he must be on his very bestbehavior during the visit. If it had been feasible to leave off callinghim Jackanapes and to get used to his baptismal name of Theodore beforethe day after to-morrow (when the General was due), it would have beensatisfactory. But Miss Jessamine feared it would be impossible inpractice, and she had scruples about it on principle. It would not seemquite truthful, although she had always most fully intended that heshould be called Theodore when he had outgrown the ridiculousappropriateness of his nickname. The fact was that he had not outgrownit, but he must take care to remember who was meant when his grandfathersaid Theodore. Indeed, for that matter, he must take care all along. "You are apt to be giddy, Jackanapes, " said Miss Jessamine. "Yes, aunt, " said Jackanapes, thinking of the hobby-horses. "You are a good boy, Jackanapes. Thank God, I can tell your grandfatherthat. An obedient boy, an honorable boy, and a kind-hearted boy. But youare--in short, you _are_ a Boy, Jackanapes. And I hope, " added MissJessamine, desperate with the results of experience, "that the Generalknows that Boys will be Boys. " What mischief could be foreseen, Jackanapes promised to guard against. He was to keep his clothes and his hands clean, to look over hiscatechism, not to put sticky things in his pockets, to keep that hair ofhis smooth ("It's the wind that blows it, aunty, " said Jackanapes--"I'llsend by the coach for some bear's-grease, " said Miss Jessamine, tying aknot in her pocket-handkerchief), not to burst in at the parlor door, not to talk at the top of his voice, not to crumple his Sunday frill, and to sit quite quiet during the sermon, to be sure to say "sir" to theGeneral, to be careful about rubbing his shoes on the door-mat, and tobring his lesson-books to his aunt at once that she might iron down thedogs'-ears. The General arrived; and for the first day all went well, except that Jackanapes's hair was as wild as usual, for the hair-dresserhad no bear's-grease left. He began to feel more at ease with hisgrandfather, and disposed to talk confidentially with him, as he didwith the Postman. All that the General felt, it would take too long totell; but the result was the same. He was disposed to talkconfidentially with Jackanapes. "Mons'ous pretty place this, " he said, looking out of the lattice on tothe Green, where the grass was vivid with sunset and the shadows werelong and peaceful. "You should see it in Fair-week, sir, " said Jackanapes, shaking hisyellow mop, and leaning back in his one of the two Chippendalearm-chairs in which they sat. "A fine time that, eh?" said the General, with a twinkle in his left eye(the other was glass). Jackanapes shook his hair once more. "I enjoyed this last one the bestof all, " he said. "I'd so much money. " "By George, it's not a common complaint in these bad times. How much hadye?" "I'd two shillings. A new shilling aunty gave me, and elevenpence I hadsaved up, and a penny from the Postman, --_sir_!" added Jackanapes with ajerk, having forgotten it. "And how did ye spend it, --_sir_?" inquired the General. Jackanapes spread his ten fingers on the arms of his chair, and shut hiseyes that he might count the more conscientiously. "Watch-stand for aunty, threepence. Trumpet for myself, twopence; that'sfivepence. Gingernuts for Tony, twopence, and a mug with a Grenadier onfor the Postman, fourpence; that's elevenpence. Shooting-gallery apenny; that's a shilling. Giddy-go-round, a penny; that's one and apenny. Treating Tony, one and twopence. Flying Boats (Tony paid forhimself), a penny, one and threepence. Shooting-gallery again, one andfourpence; Fat Woman a penny, one and fivepence. Giddy-go-round again, one and sixpence. Shooting-gallery, one and sevenpence. Treating Tony, and then he wouldn't shoot, so I did, one and eightpence. LivingSkeleton, a penny--no, Tony treated me, the Living Skeleton doesn'tcount. Skittles, a penny, one and ninepence. Mermaid (but when we gotinside she was dead), a penny, one and tenpence. Theater, a penny(Priscilla Partington, or the Green Lane Murder. A beautiful young lady, sir, with pink cheeks and a real pistol); that's one and elevenpence. Ginger beer, a penny (I _was_ so thirsty!), two shillings. And then theShooting-gallery man gave me a turn for nothing, because, he said, I wasa real gentleman, and spent my money like a man. " "So you do, sir, so you do!" cried the General. "Egad, sir, you spent itlike a prince. And now I suppose you've not got a penny in your pocket?" "Yes, I have, " said Jackanapes. "Two pennies. They are saving up. " AndJackanapes jingled them with his hand. "You don't want money except at Fair-times, I suppose?" said theGeneral. Jackanapes shook his mop. "If I could have as much as I want, I should know what to buy, " said he. "And how much do you want, if you could get it?" "Wait a minute, sir, till I think what twopence from fifteen poundsleaves. Two from nothing you can't, but borrow twelve. Two from twelve, ten, and carry one. Please remember ten, sir, when I ask you. One fromnothing you can't, borrow twenty. One from twenty, nineteen, and carryone. One from fifteen, fourteen. Fourteen pounds nineteen and--what didI tell you to remember?" "Ten, " said the General. "Fourteen pounds nineteen shillings and tenpence, then, is what I want, "said Jackanapes. "God bless my soul! what for?" "To buy Lollo with. Lollo means red, sir. The Gypsy's red-haired pony, sir. Oh, he _is_ beautiful! You should see his coat in the sunshine! Youshould see his mane! You should see his tail! Such little feet, sir, andthey go like lightning! Such a dear face, too, and eyes like a mouse!But he's a racer, and the Gypsy wants fifteen pounds for him. " "If he's a racer you couldn't ride him. Could you?" "No--o, sir, but I can stick to him. I did the other day. " "The dooce you did! Well, I'm fond of riding myself; and if the beast isas good as you say, he might suit me. " "You're too tall for Lollo, I think, " said Jackanapes, measuring hisgrandfather with his eye. "I can double up my legs, I suppose. We'll have a look at himto-morrow. " "Don't you weigh a good deal?" asked Jackanapes. "Chiefly waistcoats, " said the General, slapping the breast of hismilitary frock-coat. "We'll have the little racer on the Green the firstthing in the morning. Glad you mentioned it, grandson; glad youmentioned it. " The General was as good as his word. Next morning the Gypsy and Lollo, Miss Jessamine, Jackanapes and his grandfather and his dog Spitfire, were all gathered at one end of the Green in a group, which so arousedthe innocent curiosity of Mrs. Johnson, as she saw it from one of herupper windows, that she and the children took their early promenaderather earlier than usual. The General talked to the Gypsy, andJackanapes fondled Lollo's mane, and did not know whether he should bemore glad or miserable if his grandfather bought him. "Jackanapes!" "Yes, sir!" "I've bought Lollo, but I believe you were right. He hardly stands highenough for me. If you can ride him to the other end of the Green, I'llgive him to you. " How Jackanapes tumbled on to Lollo's back he never knew. He had justgathered up the reins when the Gypsy father took him by the arm. "If you want to make Lollo go fast, my little gentleman--" "_I_ can make him go!" said Jackanapes; and drawing from his pocket thetrumpet he had bought in the Fair, he blew a blast both loud and shrill. Away went Lollo, and away went Jackanapes's hat. His golden hair flewout, an aureole from which his cheeks shone red and distended withtrumpeting. Away went Spitfire, mad with the rapture of the race and thewind in his silky ears. Away went the geese, the cocks, the hens, andthe whole family of Johnson. Lucy clung to her mamma, Jane saved Emilyby the gathers of her gown, and Tony saved himself by a somersault. The Gray Goose was just returning when Jackanapes and Lollo rode back, Spitfire panting behind. "Good, my little gentleman, good!" said the Gypsy. "You were born to thesaddle. You've the flat thigh, the strong knee, the wiry back, and thelight caressing hand; all you want is to learn the whisper. Come here!" "What was that dirty fellow talking about, grandson?" asked the General. "I can't tell you, sir. It's a secret. " They were sitting in the window again, in the two Chippendalearm-chairs, the General devouring every line of his grandson's face, with strange spasms crossing his own. "You must love your aunt very much, Jackanapes?" "I do, sir, " said Jackanapes, warmly. "And whom do you love next best to your aunt?" The ties of blood were pressing very strongly on the General himself, and perhaps he thought of Lollo. But love is not bought in a day, evenwith fourteen pounds nineteen shillings and tenpence. Jackanapesanswered quite readily, "The Postman. " "Why the Postman?" "He knew my father, " said Jackanapes, "and he tells me about him andabout his black mare. My father was a soldier, a brave soldier. He diedat Waterloo. When I grow up I want to be a soldier too. " "So you shall, my boy; so you shall. " "Thank you, grandfather. Aunty doesn't want me to be a soldier, for fearof being killed. " "Bless my life! Would she have you get into a feather-bed and staythere? Why, you might be killed by a thunderbolt if you were abutter-merchant!" "So I might. I shall tell her so. What a funny fellow you are, sir! Isay, do you think my father knew the Gypsy's secret? The Postman says heused to whisper to his black mare. " "Your father was taught to ride, as a child, by one of those horsemen ofthe East who swoop and dart and wheel about a plain like swallows inautumn. Grandson! love me a little too. I can tell you more about yourfather than the Postman can. " "I do love you, " said Jackanapes. "Before you came I was frightened. I'dno notion you were so nice. " "Love me always, boy, whatever I do or leave undone. And--God helpme!--whatever you do or leave undone, I'll love you. There shall neverbe a cloud between us for a day; no, sir, not for an hour. We'reimperfect enough, all of us--we needn't be so bitter; and life isuncertain enough at its safest--we needn't waste its opportunities. Godbless my soul! Here sit I, after a dozen battles and some of the worstclimates in the world, and by yonder lych gate lies your mother, whodidn't move five miles, I suppose, from your aunt's apron-strings, --deadin her teens; my golden-haired daughter, whom I never saw!" Jackanapes was terribly troubled. "Don't cry, grandfather, " he pleaded, his own blue eyes round withtears. "I will love you very much, and I will try to be very good. But Ishould like to be a soldier. " "You shall, my boy; you shall. You've more claims for a commission thanyou know of. Cavalry, I suppose; eh, ye young Jackanapes? Well, well; ifyou live to be an honor to your country, this old heart shall grow youngagain with pride for you; and if you die in the service of yourcountry--egad, sir, it can but break for ye!" And beating the region which he said was all waistcoats, as if theystifled him, the old man got up and strode out on to the Green. CHAPTER IV _Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life forhis friends. _--John 15:13. Twenty and odd years later the Gray Goose was still alive, and in fullpossession of her faculties, such as they were. She lived slowly andcarefully, and she lived long. So did Miss Jessamine; but the Generalwas dead. He had lived on the Green for many years, during which he and thePostman saluted each other with a punctiliousness that it almost drilledone to witness. He would have completely spoiled Jackanapes if MissJessamine's conscience would have let him; otherwise he somewhatdragooned his neighbors, and was as positive about parish matters as arate-payer about the army. A stormy-tempered, tender-hearted soldier, irritable with the suffering of wounds of which he never spoke, whom allthe village followed to his grave with tears. The General's death was a great shock to Miss Jessamine, and her nephewstayed with her for some little time after the funeral. Then he wasobliged to join his regiment, which was ordered abroad. One effect of the conquest which the General had gained over theaffections of the village was a considerable abatement of the popularprejudice against "the military. " Indeed, the village was now somewhatimportantly represented in the army. There was the General himself, andthe Postman, and the Black Captain's tablet in the church, andJackanapes, and Tony Johnson, and a Trumpeter. Tony Johnson had no more natural taste for fighting than for riding, buthe was as devoted as ever to Jackanapes. And that was how it came aboutthat Mr. Johnson bought him a commission in the same cavalry regimentthat the General's grandson (whose commission had been given him by theIron Duke) was in; and that he was quite content to be the butt of themess where Jackanapes was the hero; and that when Jackanapes wrote hometo Miss Jessamine, Tony wrote with the same purpose to hismother, --namely, to demand her congratulations that they were on activeservice at last, and were ordered to the front. And he added apostscript, to the effect that she could have no idea how popularJackanapes was, nor how splendidly he rode the wonderful red chargerwhich he had named after his old friend Lollo. * * * * * "Sound Retire!" A Boy Trumpeter, grave with the weight of responsibilities andaccoutrements beyond his years, and stained so that his own mother wouldnot have known him, with the sweat and dust of battle, did as he wasbid; and then, pushing his trumpet pettishly aside, adjusted his wearylegs for the hundredth time to the horse which was a world too big forhim, and muttering, "'Tain't a pretty tune, " tried to see something ofthis his first engagement before it came to an end. Being literally in the thick of it, he could hardly have seen less orknown less of what happened in that particular skirmish if he had beenat home in England. For many good reasons, --including dust and smoke, and that what attention he dared distract from his commanding officerwas pretty well absorbed by keeping his hard-mouthed troop-horse inhand, under pain of execration by his neighbors in the mélée. By and by, when the newspapers came out, if he could get a look at one before itwas thumbed to bits, he would learn that the enemy had appeared fromambush in overwhelming numbers, and that orders had been given to fallback, which was done slowly and in good order, the men fighting as theyretired. Born and bred on the Goose Green, the youngest of Mr. Johnson'sgardener's numerous offspring, the boy had given his family no "peace"till they let him "go for a soldier" with Master Tony and MasterJackanapes. They consented at last, with more tears than they shed whenan elder son was sent to jail for poaching; and the boy was perfectlyhappy in his life, and full of _esprit de corps_. It was this which hadbeen wounded by having to sound retreat for "the young gentlemen'sregiment, " the first time he served with it before the enemy; and he wasalso harassed by having completely lost sight of Master Tony. There hadbeen some hard fighting before the backward movement began, and he hadcaught sight of him once, but not since. On the other hand, all thepulses of his village pride had been stirred by one or two visions ofMaster Jackanapes whirling about on his wonderful horse. He had beeneasy to distinguish, since an eccentric blow had bared his head withouthurting it; for his close golden mop of hair gleamed in the hot sunshineas brightly as the steel of the sword flashing round it. Of the missiles that fell pretty thickly, the Boy Trumpeter did not takemuch notice. First, one can't attend to everything, and his hands werefull; secondly, one gets used to anything; thirdly, experience soonteaches one, in spite of proverbs, how very few bullets find theirbillet. Far more unnerving is the mere suspicion of fear or even ofanxiety in the human mass around you. The Boy was beginning to wonder ifthere were any dark reason for the increasing pressure, and whether theywould be allowed to move back more quickly, when the smoke in frontlifted for a moment, and he could see the plain, and the enemy's linesome two hundred yards away. And across the the plain between them, hesaw Master Jackanapes galloping alone at the top of Lollo's speed, theirfaces to the enemy, his golden head at Lollo's ear. But at this moment noise and smoke seemed to burst out on every side;the officer shouted to him to sound Retire! and between trumpeting andbumping about on his horse, he saw and heard no more of the incidents ofhis first battle. Tony Johnson was always unlucky with horses, from the days of thegiddy-go-round onwards. On this day--of all days in the year--his ownhorse was on the sick list, and he had to ride an inferior, ill-conditioned beast, and fell off that, at the very moment when it wasmatter of life or death to be able to ride away. The horse fell on him, but struggled up again, and Tony managed to keep hold of it. It was intrying to remount that he discovered, by helplessness and anguish, thatone of his legs was crushed and broken, and that no feat of which he wasmaster would get him into the saddle. Not able even to stand alone, awkwardly, agonizingly, unable to mount his restive horse, his life wasyet so strong within him! And on one side of him rolled the dust andsmoke-cloud of his advancing foes, and on the other, that which coveredhis retreating friends. He turned one piteous gaze after them, with a bitter twinge, not ofreproach, but of loneliness; and then, dragging himself up by the sideof his horse, he turned the other way and drew out his pistol, andwaited for the end. Whether he waited seconds or minutes he never knew, before some one gripped him by the arm. "_Jackanapes! God bless you!_ It's my left leg. If you _could_ get meon--" It was like Tony's luck that his pistol went off at his horse's tail, and made it plunge; but Jackanapes threw him across the saddle. "Hold on anyhow, and stick your spur in. I'll lead him. Keep your headdown; they're firing high. " And Jackanapes laid his head down--to Lollo's ear. It was when they were fairly off, that a sudden upspringing of the enemyin all directions had made it necessary to change the gradual retirementof our force into as rapid a retreat as possible. And when Jackanapesbecame aware of this, and felt the lagging and swerving of Tony's horse, he began to wish he had thrown his friend across his own saddle and lefttheir lives to Lollo. When Tony became aware of it, several things came into his head: 1. Thatthe dangers of their ride for life were now more than doubled; 2. Thatif Jackanapes and Lollo were not burdened with him they wouldundoubtedly escape; 3. That Jackanapes's life was infinitely valuable, and his--Tony's--was not; 4. That this, if he could seize it, was thesupremest of all the moments in which he had tried to assume the virtueswhich Jackanapes had by nature; and that if he could be courageous andunselfish now-- He caught at his own reins and spoke very loud, -- "Jackanapes! It won't do. You and Lollo must go on. Tell the fellows Igave you back to them with all my heart. Jackanapes, if you love me, leave me!" There was a daffodil light over the evening sky in front of them, and itshone strangely on Jackanapes's hair and face. He turned with an oddlook in his eyes that a vainer man than Tony Johnson might have takenfor brotherly pride. Then he shook his mop, and laughed at him, "_Leave you?_ To save my skin? No, Tony, not to save my soul!" CHAPTER V MR. VALIANT _summoned. His Will. His last Words. _ Then said he, "I am going to my Father's. . . . My Sword I give to him that shall succeed me in my Pilgrimage, and my Courage and Skill to him that can get it. " . . . And as he went down deeper, he said, "Grave, where is thy Victory?" So he passed over, and all the Trumpets sounded for him on the other side. BUNYAN, _Pilgrim's Progress_ Coming out of a hospital tent, at headquarters, the surgeon cannonedagainst, and rebounded from, another officer, --a sallow man, not young, with a face worn more by ungentle experiences than by age, with wearyeyes that kept their own counsel, iron-gray hair, and a moustache thatwas as if a raven had laid its wing across his lips and sealed them. "Well?" "Beg pardon, Major. Didn't see you. Oh, compound fracture and bruises. But it's all right; he'll pull through. " "Thank God. " It was probably an involuntary expression; for prayer and praise werenot much in the Major's line, as a jerk of the surgeon's head would havebetrayed to an observer. He was a bright little man, with his feelingsshowing all over him, but with gallantry and contempt of death enoughfor both sides of his profession; who took a cool head, a whitehandkerchief, and a case of instruments, where other men went hotblooded with weapons, and who was the biggest gossip, male or female, ofthe regiment. Not even the major's taciturnity daunted him. "Didn't think he'd as much pluck about him as he has. He'll do all rightif he doesn't fret himself into a fever about poor Jackanapes. " "Whom are you talking about?" asked the Major, hoarsely. "Young Johnson. He--" "What about Jackanapes?" "Don't you know? Sad business. Rode back for Johnson, and brought himin; but, monstrous ill-luck, hit as they rode. Left lung--" "Will he recover?" "No. Sad business. What a frame--what limbs--what health--and what goodlooks! Finest young fellow--" "Where is he?" "In his own tent, " said the surgeon, sadly. The Major wheeled and left him. * * * * * "Can I do anything else for you?" "Nothing, thank you. Except--Major! I wish I could get you to appreciateJohnson. " "This is not an easy moment, Jackanapes. " "Let me tell you, sir--_he_ never will--that if he could have driven mefrom him, he would be lying yonder at this moment, and I should be safeand sound. " The Major laid his hand over his mouth, as if to keep back a wish hewould have been ashamed to utter. "I've known old Tony from a child. He's a fool on impulse, a good manand a gentleman in principle. And he acts on principle, which it's notevery--Some water, please! Thank you, sir. It's very hot, and yet one'sfeet get uncommonly cold. Oh, thank you, thank you. He's no fire-eater, but he has a trained conscience and a tender heart, and he'll do hisduty when a braver and more selfish man might fail you. But he wantsencouragement; and when I'm gone--" "He shall have encouragement. You have my word for it. Can I do nothingelse?" "Yes, Major. A favor. " "Thank you, Jackanapes. " "Be Lollo's master, and love him as well as you can. He's used to it. " "Wouldn't you rather Johnson had him?" The blue eyes twinkled in spite of mortal pain. "Tony _rides_ on principle, Major. His legs are bolsters, and will be tothe end of the chapter. I couldn't insult dear Lollo; but if you don'tcare--" "While I live--which will be longer than I desire or deserve--Lolloshall want nothing but--you. I have too little tenderness for--My dearboy, you're faint. Can you spare me for a moment?" "No, stay--Major!" "What? What?" "My head drifts so--if you wouldn't mind. " "Yes! Yes!" "Say a prayer by me. Out loud, please; I am getting deaf. " "My dearest Jackanapes--my dear boy--" "One of the Church Prayers--Parade Service, you know. " "I see. But the fact is--God forgive me, Jackanapes!--I'm a verydifferent sort of fellow to some of you youngsters. Look here, let mefetch--" But Jackanapes's hand was in his, and it would not let go. There was a brief and bitter silence. "'Pon my soul I can only remember the little one at the end. " "Please, " whispered Jackanapes. Pressed by the conviction that what little he could do it was his dutyto do, the Major, kneeling, bared his head, and spoke loudly, clearly, and very reverently, -- "The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ--" Jackanapes moved his left hand to his right one, which still held theMajor's. "The love of God--" And with that--Jackanapes died. CHAPTER VI Und so ist der blaue Himmel grösser als jedes Gewölk darin, und dauerhafter dazu. --JEAN PAUL RICHTER Jackanapes's death was sad news for the Goose Green, a sorrow justqualified by honorable pride in his gallantry and devotion. Only theCobbler dissented; but that was his way. He said he saw nothing in itbut foolhardiness and vainglory. They might both have been killed, aseasy as not; and then where would ye have been? A man's life was a man'slife, and one life was as good as another. No one would catch himthrowing his away. And, for that matter, Mrs. Johnson could spare achild a great deal better than Miss Jessamine. But the parson preached Jackanapes's funeral sermon on the text, "Whosoever will save his life shall lose it, and whosoever will lose hislife for my sake shall find it"; and all the village went and wept tohear him. Nor did Miss Jessamine see her loss from the Cobbler's point of view. Onthe contrary, Mrs. Johnson said she never to her dying day shouldforget how, when she went to condole with her, the old lady cameforward, with gentlewomanly self-control, and kissed her, and thankedGod that her dear nephew's effort had been blessed with success, andthat this sad war had made no gap in her friend's large and happyhome-circle. "But she's a noble, unselfish woman, " sobbed Mrs. Johnson, "and shetaught Jackanapes to be the same; and that's how it is that my Tony hasbeen spared to me. And it must be sheer goodness in Miss Jessamine, forwhat can she know of a mother's feelings? And I'm sure most people seemto think that if you've a large family you don't know one from anotherany more than they do, and that a lot of children are like a lot ofstore apples, --if one's taken it won't be missed. " Lollo--the first Lollo, the Gypsy's Lollo--very aged, draws MissJessamine's bath-chair slowly up and down the Goose Green in thesunshine. The Ex-postman walks beside him, which Lollo tolerates to the level ofhis shoulder. If the Postman advances any nearer to his head, Lolloquickens his pace; and were the Postman to persist in the injudiciousattempt, there is, as Miss Jessamine says, no knowing what might happen. In the opinion of the Goose Green, Miss Jessamine has borne her troubles"wonderfully. " Indeed, to-day, some of the less delicate and lessintimate of those who see everything from the upper windows say (well, behind her back) that "the old lady seems quite lively with her militarybeaux again. " The meaning of this is, that Captain Johnson is leaning over one side ofher chair, while by the other bends a brother officer who is stayingwith him, and who has manifested an extraordinary interest in Lollo. Hebends lower and lower, and Miss Jessamine calls to the Postman torequest Lollo to be kind enough to stop, while she is fumbling forsomething which always hangs by her side, and has got entangled with herspectacles. It is a twopenny trumpet, bought years ago in the village fair; and overit she and Captain Johnson tell, as best they can, between them, thestory of Jackanapes's ride across the Goose Green; and how he wonLollo--the Gypsy's Lollo--the racer Lollo--dear Lollo--faithfulLollo--Lollo the never vanquished--Lollo the tender servant of his oldmistress. And Lollo's ears twitch at every mention of his name. Their hearer does not speak, but he never moves his eyes from thetrumpet; and when the tale is told, he lifts Miss Jessamine's hand andpresses his heavy black moustache in silence to her trembling fingers. The sun, setting gently to his rest, embroiders the somber foliage ofthe oak tree with threads of gold. The Gray Goose is sensible of anatmosphere of repose, and puts up one leg for the night. The grass glowswith a more vivid green, and, in answer to a ringing call from Tony, hissisters fluttering over the daisies in pale-hued muslins, come out oftheir ever-open door, like pretty pigeons from a dovecote. And if the good gossips' eyes do not deceive them, all the Miss Johnsonsand both the officers go wandering off into the lanes, where bryonywreaths still twine about the brambles. * * * * * A sorrowful story, and ending badly? Nay, Jackanapes, for the End is not yet. A life wasted that might have been useful? Men who have died for men, in all ages, forgive the thought! There is a heritage of heroic example and noble obligation, not reckonedin the Wealth of Nations, but essential to a nation's life; the contemptof which, in any people, may, not slowly, mean even its commercial fall. Very sweet are the uses of prosperity, the harvests of peace andprogress, the fostering sunshine of health and happiness, and length ofdays in the land. But there be things--oh, sons of what has deserved the name of GreatBritain, forget it not!--"the good of" which and "the use of" which arebeyond all calculation of worldly goods and earthly uses: things such asLove, and Honor, and the Soul of Man, which cannot be bought with aprice, and which do not die with death. And they who would fain livehappily ever after should not leave these things out of the lessons oftheir lives. FOOTNOTES: [3] "The political men declare war, and generally for commercialinterests; but when the nation is thus embroiled with its neighbors, thesoldier . . . Draws the sword at the command of his country. . . . Oneword as to thy comparison of military and commercial persons. What mannerof men be they who have supplied the Caffres with the firearms andammunition to maintain their savage and deplorable wars? Assuredly theyare not military. . . . Cease then, if thou wouldst be counted among thejust, to vilify soldiers" (W. Napier, _Lieutenant-General_, November, 1851). [Author's Note. ] [4] The Mail Coach it was that distributed over the face of the land, like the opening of apocalyptic vials, the heart-shaking news ofTrafalgar, of Salamanca, of Vittoria, of Waterloo. . . . The grandestchapter of our experience, within the whole Mail-Coach service, was onthose occasions when we went down from London with the news of Victory. Five years of life it was worth paying down for the privilege of anoutside place. --(De Quincey. ) [Author's Note. ] [5] "Brunswick's fated chieftain" fell at Quatre Bras the day beforeWaterloo; but this first (very imperfect) list, as it appeared in thenewspapers of the day, did begin with his name and end with that of anEnsign Brown. [Author's Note. ] 383 The story that follows was first published in _Harper's Round Table_, June 25, 1895, as the winner of first place in a short story contest conducted by that periodical. The author at that time was seventeen years of age. It seems quite fitting that a writer beginning his career in such fashion should finally write the most scholarly historical and critical account of the development of the short story, _The Short Story in English_ (1909). Mr. Canby was for several years assistant professor of English in the Sheffield Scientific School, Yale University, and is now the editor of _The Literary Review_, the literary section of the New York _Evening Post_. ("Betty's Ride" is used here by special arrangement with the author. ) BETTY'S RIDE: A TALE OF THE REVOLUTION HENRY S. CANBY The sun was just rising and showering his first rays on the gambrel-roofand solid stone walls of a house surrounded by a magnificent grove ofwalnuts, and overlooking one of the beautiful valleys so common insoutheastern Pennsylvania. Close by the house, and shaded by the samegreat trees, stood a low building of the most severe type, whosetime-stained bricks and timbers green with moss told its age without theaid of the half-obliterated inscription over the door, which read, "Built A. D. 1720. " One familiar with the country would have pronouncedit without hesitation a Quaker meeting-house, dating back almost to thetime of William Penn. When Ezra Dale had become the leader of the little band of Quakers whichgathered here every First Day, he had built the house under thewalnut-trees, and had taken his wife Ann and his little daughter Bettyto live there. That was in 1770, seven years earlier, and before war hadwrought sorrow and desolation throughout the country. The sun rose higher, and just as his beams touched the broad stone stepin front of the house the door opened, and Ann Dale, a sweet-faced womanin the plain Quaker garb, came out, followed by Betty, a littleblue-eyed Quakeress of twelve years, with a gleam of spirit in her facewhich ill became her plain dress. "Betty, " said her mother, as they walked out towards the greathorse-block by the road-side, "thee must keep house to-day. FriendRobert has just sent thy father word that the redcoats have not crossedthe Brandywine since Third Day last, and thy father and I will ride toChester to-day, that there may be other than corn-cakes and bacon forthe friends who come to us after monthly meeting. Mind thee keeps nearthe house and finishes thy sampler. " "Yes, mother, " said Betty; "but will thee not come home early? I shallmiss thee sadly. " Just then Ezra appeared, wearing his collarless Quaker coat, and leadinga horse saddled with a great pillion, into which Ann laboriously climbedafter her husband, and with a final warning and "farewell" to Betty, clasped him tightly around the waist lest she should be jolted off asthey jogged down the rough and winding lane into the broad Chesterhighway. Friend Ann had many reasons for fearing to leave Betty alone for a wholeday, and she looked back anxiously at her waving "farewell" with herlittle bonnet. It was a troublous time. The Revolution was at its height, and the British, who had a short timebefore disembarked their army near Elkton, Maryland, were now encampednear White Clay Creek, while Washington occupied the country borderingon the Brandywine. His force, however, was small compared to the extentof the country to be guarded, and bands of the British sometimes crossedthe Brandywine and foraged in the fertile counties of Delaware andChester. As Betty's father, although a Quaker and a non-combatant, wasknown to be a patriot, he had to suffer the fortunes of war with hisneighbors. Thus it was with many forebodings that Betty's mother watched the slightfigure under the spreading branches of a great chestnut, which seemed torustle its innumerable leaves as if to promise protection to the littlemaid. However, the sun shone brightly, the swallows chirped as theycircled overhead, and nothing seemed farther off than battle andbloodshed. Betty skipped merrily into the house, and snatching up some brokencorn-cake left from the morning meal, ran lightly out to the paddockwhere Daisy was kept, her own horse, which she had helped to raise froma colt. "Come thee here, Daisy, " she said, as she seated herself on the top railof the mossy snake fence. "Come thee here, and thee shall have some ofthy mistress's corn-cake. Ah! I thought thee would like it. Now go andeat all thee can of this good grass, for if the wicked redcoats comeagain, thee will not have another chance, I can tell thee. " Daisy whinnied and trotted off, while Betty, feeding the few chickens(sadly reduced in numbers by numerous raids), returned to the house, andgetting her sampler, sat down under a walnut-tree to sew on the stintwhich her mother had given her. All was quiet save the chattering of the squirrels overhead and thedrowsy hum of the bees, when from around the curve in the road she hearda shot; then another nearer, and then a voice shouting commands, and thethud of hoof-beats farther down the valley. She jumped up with astartled cry: "The redcoats! The redcoats! Oh, what shall I do!" Just then the foremost of a scattered band of soldiers, their buff andblue uniforms and ill-assorted arms showing them to be Americans, appeared in full flight around the curve in the road, and springing overthe fence, dashed across the pasture straight for the meeting-house. Through the broad gateway they poured, and forcing open the door of themeeting-house, rushed within and began to barricade the windows. Their leader paused while his men passed in, and seeing Betty, camequickly towards her. "What do you here, child?" he said, hurriedly. "Go quickly, before theBritish reach us, and tell your father that, Quaker or no Quaker, heshall ride to Washington, on the Brandywine, and tell him that we, butone hundred men, are besieged by three hundred British cavalry inChichester Meeting-house, with but little powder left. Tell him to makeall haste to us. " Turning, he hastened into the meeting-house, now converted into a fort, and as the doors closed behind him Betty saw a black muzzle protrudingfrom every window. With trembling fingers the little maid picked up her sampler, and as thethud of horses' hoofs grew louder and louder, she ran fearfully into thehouse, locked and bolted the massive door, and then flying up the broadstairs, she seated herself in a little window overlooking themeeting-house yard. She had gone into the house none too soon. Up theroad, with their red coats gleaming and their harness jangling, wassweeping a detachment of British cavalry, never stopping until theyreached the meeting-house--and then it was too late. A sheet of flame shot out from the wall before them, and half a dozentroopers fell lifeless to the ground, and half a dozen riderless horsesgalloped wildly down the road. The leader shouted a sharp command, andthe whole troop retreated in confusion. Betty drew back shuddering, and when she brought herself to look againthe troopers had dismounted, had surrounded the meeting-house, and werepouring volley after volley at its doors and windows. Then for the firsttime Betty thought of the officer's message, and remembered that thesafety of the Americans depended upon her alone, for her father wasaway, no neighbor within reach, and without powder she knew they couldnot resist long. Could she save them? All her stern Quaker blood rose at the thought, andstealing softly to the paddock behind the barn, she saddled Daisy andled her through the bars into the wood road, which opened into thehighway just around the bend. Could she but pass the pickets withoutdiscovery there would be little danger of pursuit; then there would beonly the long ride of eight miles ahead of her. Just before the narrow wood road joined the broader highway Bettymounted Daisy by means of a convenient stump, and starting off at agallop, had just turned the corner when a voice shouted "Halt!" and ashot whistled past her head. Betty screamed with terror, and bendingover, brought down her riding-whip with all her strength upon Daisy, then, turning for a moment, saw three troopers hurriedly mounting. Her heart sank within her, but, beginning to feel the excitement of thechase, she leaned over and patting Daisy on the neck, encouraged her todo her best. Onward they sped. Betty, her curly hair streaming in thewind, the color now mounting to, now retreating from her cheeks, led byfive hundred yards. But Daisy had not been used for weeks, and already felt the unusualstrain. Now they thundered over Naaman's Creek, now over Concord, withthe nearest pursuer only four hundred yards behind; and now they racedbeside the clear waters of Beaver Brook, and as Betty dashed through itsshallow ford, the thud of horse's hoofs seemed just over her shoulder. Betty, at first sure of success, now knew that unless in some way shecould throw her pursuers off her track she was surely lost. Just thenshe saw ahead of her a fork in the road, the lower branch leading to theBrandywine, the upper to the Birmingham Meeting-house. Could she but getthe troopers on the upper road while she took the lower, she would besafe; and, as if in answer to her wish, there flashed across her mindthe remembrance of the old cross-road which, long disused, and with itsentrance hidden by drooping boughs, led from a point in the upper roadjust out of sight of the fork down across the lower, and through thevalley of the Brandywine. Could she gain this road unseen she stillmight reach Washington. Urging Daisy forward, she broke just in time through the dense growthwhich hid the entrance, and sat trembling, hidden behind a dense growthof tangled vines, while she heard the troopers thunder by. Then, ridingthrough the rustling woods, she came at last into the open, and sawspread out beneath her the beautiful valley of the Brandywine, dottedwith the white tents of the Continental army. Starting off at a gallop, she dashed around a bend in the road into themidst of a group of officers riding slowly up from the valley. "Stop, little maiden, before you run us down, " said one, who seemed tobe in command. "Where are you going in such hot haste?" "Oh, sir, " said Betty, reining in Daisy, "can thee tell me where I canfind General Washington?" "Yes, little Quakeress, " said the officer who had first spoken to her;"I am he. What do you wish?" Betty, too exhausted to be surprised, poured forth her story in a fewbroken sentences, and (hearing as if in a dream the hasty commands forthe rescue of the soldiers in Chichester Meeting-house) fell forward inher saddle, and, for the first time in her life, fainted, worn out byher noble ride. A few days later, when recovering from the shock of her long andeventful ride, Betty, awaking from a deep sleep, found her motherkneeling beside her little bed, while her father talked with GeneralWashington himself beside the fireplace; and it was the proudest andhappiest moment of her life when Washington, coming forward and takingher by the hand, said, "You are the bravest little maid in America, andan honor to your country. " Still the peaceful meeting-house and the gambrel-roofed home standunchanged, save that their time-beaten timbers and crumbling bricks havetaken on a more sombre tinge, and under the broad walnut-tree anotherlittle Betty sits and sews. If you ask it, she will take down the great key from its nail, andswinging back the new doors of the meeting-house, will show you the oldworm-eaten ones inside, which, pierced through and through with bullet-holes, once served as a rampart against the enemy. And she will tell you, in thequaint Friend's language, how her great-great-grandmother carried, over ahundred years ago, the news of the danger of her countrymen to Washington, on the Brandywine, and at the risk of her own life saved theirs. 384 Some two decades ago thousands were reading about the highly romantic career of Charles Brandon in _When Knighthood Was in Flower_ (1898), and other thousands were applauding Julia Marlowe's impersonation of the beautiful and fascinating Princess Mary in the dramatic version of that book. The author was Charles Major (1856-1913), an Indiana lawyer turned novelist, who wrote, also, the equally romantic story of _Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall_ (1902). Between these two pieces of delightful romance, he wrote a series of sketches of pioneer life in Indiana under the title of _The Bears of Blue River_ (1901). It is an account of boy life in the early days, full of dramatic interest, simply written, and entirely worthy of the high place which it has already taken among stories of its type. The first adventure in that book follows by special arrangement with the publishers. (Copyright. The Macmillan Company, New York. ) THE BIG BEAR CHARLES MAJOR Away back in the "twenties, " when Indiana was a baby state, and greatforests of tall trees and tangled underbrush darkened what are now herbright plains and sunny hills, there stood upon the east bank of BigBlue River, a mile or two north of the point where that stream crossesthe Michigan road, a cozy log cabin of two rooms--one front and oneback. The house faced the west, and stretching off toward the river for adistance equal to twice the width of an ordinary street, was ablue-grass lawn, upon which stood a dozen or more elm and sycamoretrees, with a few honey-locusts scattered here and there. Immediately atthe water's edge was a steep slope of ten or twelve feet. Back of thehouse, mile upon mile, stretched the deep dark forest, inhabited by deerand bears, wolves and wildcats, squirrels and birds, without number. In the river the fish were so numerous that they seemed to entreat theboys to catch them, and to take them out of their crowded quarters. There were bass and black suckers, sunfish and catfish, to say nothingof the sweetest of all, the big-mouthed redeye. South of the house stood a log barn, with room in it for three horsesand two cows; and enclosing this barn, together with a piece of ground, five or six acres in extent, was a palisade fence, eight or ten feethigh, made by driving poles into the ground close together. In thisenclosure the farmer kept his stock, consisting of a few sheep andcattle, and here also the chickens, geese, and ducks were driven atnightfall to save them from "varmints, " as all prowling animals werecalled by the settlers. The man who had built this log hut, and who lived in it and owned theadjoining land at the time of which I write, bore the name of BalserBrent. "Balser" is probably a corruption of Baltzer, but, however thatmay be, Balser was his name, and Balser was the hero of the bear storieswhich I am about to tell you. Mr. Brent and his young wife had moved to the Blue River settlement fromNorth Carolina, when young Balser was a little boy five or six years ofage. They had purchased the "eighty" upon which they lived, from theUnited States, at a sale of public land held in the town of Brookvilleon Whitewater, and had paid for it what was then considered a good roundsum--one dollar per acre. They had received a deed for their "eighty"from no less a person than James Monroe, then President of the UnitedStates. This deed, which is called a patent, was written on sheepskin, signed by the President's own hand, and is still preserved by thedescendants of Mr. Brent as one of the title-deeds to the land itconveyed. The house, as I have told you, consisted of two large rooms, or buildings, separated by a passageway six or eight feet broad whichwas roofed over, but open at both ends--on the north and south. The backroom was the kitchen, and the front room was parlor, bedroom, sittingroom and library all in one. At the time when my story opens Little Balser, as he was called todistinguish him from his father, was thirteen or fourteen years of age, and was the happy possessor of a younger brother, Jim, aged nine, and alittle sister one year old, of whom he was very proud indeed. On the south side of the front room was a large fireplace. The chimneywas built of sticks, thickly covered with clay. The fireplace was almostas large as a small room in one of our cramped modern houses, and wasbroad and deep enough to take in backlogs which were so large and heavythat they could not be lifted, but were drawn in at the door and rolledover the floor to the fireplace. The prudent father usually kept two extra backlogs, one on each side ofthe fireplace, ready to be rolled in as the blaze died down; and onthese logs the children would sit at night, with a rough slate made froma flat stone, and do their "ciphering, " as the study of arithmetic wasthen called. The fire usually furnished all the light they had, forcandles and "dips, " being expensive luxuries, were used only whencompany was present. The fire, however, gave sufficient light, and its blaze upon a coldnight extended halfway up the chimney, sending a ruddy, cozy glow toevery nook and corner of the room. The back room was the storehouse and kitchen; and from the beams andalong the walls hung rich hams and juicy sidemeat, jerked venison, driedapples, onions, and other provisions for the winter. There was aglorious fireplace in this room also, and a crane upon which to hangpots and cooking utensils. The floor of the front room was made of logs split in halves with theflat, hewn side up; but the floor of the kitchen was of clay, packedhard and smooth. The settlers had no stoves, but did their cooking in round pots calledDutch ovens. They roasted their meats on a spit or steel bar like theramrod of a gun. The spit was kept turning before the fire, presentingfirst one side of the meat and then the other, until it was thoroughlycooked. Turning the spit was the children's work. South of the palisade enclosing the barn was the clearing--a tract oftwenty or thirty acres of land, from which Mr. Brent had cut and burnedthe trees. On this clearing the stumps stood thick as the hair on anangry dog's back; but the hard-working farmer ploughed between andaround them, and each year raised upon the fertile soil enough wheat andcorn to supply the wants of his family and his stock, and still had alittle grain left to take to Brookville, sixty miles away, where he hadbought his land, there to exchange for such necessities of life ascould not be grown upon the farm or found in the forests. The daily food of the family all came from the farm, the forest, or thecreek. Their sugar was obtained from the sap of the sugar-trees; theirmeat was supplied in the greatest abundance by a few hogs, and by theinexhaustible game of which the forests were full. In the woods werefound deer just for the shooting; and squirrels, rabbits, wild turkeys, pheasants, and quails, so numerous that a few hours' hunting wouldsupply the table for days. The fish in the river, as I told you, fairlylonged to be caught. One day Mrs. Brent took down the dinner horn and blew upon it two strongblasts. This was a signal that Little Balser, who was helping his fatherdown in the clearing, should come to the house. Balser was glad enoughto drop his hoe and to run home. When he reached the house his mothersaid: "Balser, go up to the drift and catch a mess of fish for dinner. Yourfather is tired of deer meat three times a day, and I know he would likea nice dish of fried redeyes at noon. " "All right, mother, " said Balser. And he immediately took down hisfishing-pole and line, and got the spade to dig bait. When he hadcollected a small gourdful of angle-worms, his mother called to him: "You had better take a gun. You may meet a bear; your father loaded thegun this morning, and you must be careful in handling it. " Balser took the gun, which was a heavy rifle considerably longer thanhimself, and started up the river toward the drift, about a quarter of amile away. There had been rain during the night and the ground near the drift wassoft. Here, Little Balser noticed fresh bear tracks, and his breath began tocome quickly. You may be sure he peered closely into every dark thicket, and looked behind all the large trees and logs, and had his eyes wideopen lest perchance "Mr. Bear" should step out and surprise him with anaffectionate hug, and thereby put an end to Little Balser forever. So he walked on cautiously, and, if the truth must be told, somewhattremblingly, until he reached the drift. Balser was but a little fellow, yet the stern necessities of a settler'slife had compelled his father to teach him the use of a gun; andalthough Balser had never killed a bear, he had shot several deer, andupon one occasion had killed a wildcat, "almost as big as a cow, " hesaid. I have no doubt the wildcat seemed "almost as big as a cow" to Balserwhen he killed it, for it must have frightened him greatly, as wildcatswere sometimes dangerous animals for children to encounter. AlthoughBalser had never met a bear face to face and alone, yet he felt, andmany a time had said, that there wasn't a bear in the world big enoughto frighten him, if he but had his gun. He had often imagined and minutely detailed to his parents and littlebrother just what he would do if he should meet a bear. He would waitcalmly and quietly until his bearship should come within a few yards ofhim, and then he would slowly lift his gun. Bang! and Mr. Bear would bedead with a bullet in his heart. But when he saw the fresh bear tracks, and began to realize that hewould probably have an opportunity to put his theories about bearkilling into practice, he began to wonder if, after all, he wouldbecome frightened and miss his aim. Then he thought of how the bear, inthat case, would be calm and deliberate, and would put _his_ theoriesinto practice by walking very politely up to him, and making a verysatisfactory dinner of a certain boy whom he could name. But as hewalked on and no bear appeared, his courage grew stronger as theprospect of meeting the enemy grew less, and he again began saying tohimself that no bear could frighten him, because he had his gun and hecould and would kill it. So Balser reached the drift; and having looked carefully about him, leaned his gun against a tree, unwound his fishing-line from the pole, and walked out to the end of a log which extended into the river sometwenty or thirty feet. Here he threw in his line, and soon was so busily engaged drawing outsunfish and redeyes, and now and then a bass, which was hungry enough tobite at a worm, that all thought of the bear went out of his mind. After he had caught enough fish for a sumptuous dinner he bethought himof going home, and as he turned toward the shore, imagine, if you can, his consternation when he saw upon the bank, quietly watching him, ahuge black bear. If the wildcat had seemed as large as a cow to Balser, of what size doyou suppose that bear appeared? A cow! An elephant, surely, was smallcompared with the huge black fellow standing upon the bank. It is true Balser had never seen an elephant, but his father had, and sohad his friend Tom Fox, who lived down the river; and they all agreedthat an elephant was "purt nigh as big as all outdoors. " The bear had a peculiar, determined expression about him that seemed tosay: "That boy can't get away; he's out on the log where the water is deep, and if he jumps into the river I can easily jump in after him and catchhim before he can swim a dozen strokes. He'll _have_ to come off the login a short time, and then I'll proceed to devour him. " About the same train of thought had also been rapidly passing throughBalser's mind. His gun was on the bank where he had left it, and inorder to reach it he would have to pass the bear. He dared not jump intothe water, for any attempt to escape on his part would bring the bearupon him instantly. He was very much frightened, but, after all, was acool-headed little fellow for his age; so he concluded that he would notpress matters, as the bear did not seem inclined to do so, but so longas the bear remained watching him on the bank would stay upon the logwhere he was, and allow the enemy to eye him to his heart's content. There they stood, the boy and the bear, each eyeing the other as thoughthey were the best of friends, and would like to eat each other, which, in fact, was literally true. Time sped very slowly for one of them, you may be sure; and it seemed toBalser that he had been standing almost an age in the middle of BlueRiver on that wretched shaking log, when he heard his mother's dinnerhorn, reminding him that it was time to go home. Balser quite agreed with his mother and gladly would he have gone, Ineed not tell you; but there stood the bear, patient, determined, andfierce; and Little Balser soon was convinced in his mind that his timehad come to die. He hoped that when his father should go home to dinner and find himstill absent, he would come up the river in search of him, and frightenaway the bear. Hardly had this hope sprung up in his mind, when itseemed that the same thought had also occurred to the bear, for he beganto move down toward the shore end of the log upon which Balser wasstanding. Slowly came the bear until he reached the end of the log, which for amoment he examined suspiciously, and then, to Balser's great alarm, cautiously stepped out upon it and began to walk toward him. Balser thought of the folks at home, and, above all, of his baby sister;and when he felt that he should never see them again, and that theywould in all probability never know of his fate, he began to growheavy-hearted and was almost paralyzed with fear. On came the bear, putting one great paw in front of the other, andwatching Balser intently with his little black eyes. His tongue hungout, and his great red mouth was open to its widest, showing the sharp, long, glittering teeth that would soon be feasting on a first-class boydinner. When the bear got within a few feet of Balser--so close he could almostfeel the animal's hot breath as it slowly approached--the boy grewdesperate with fear, and struck at the bear with the only weapon hehad--his string of fish. Now, bears love fish and blackberries above all other food; so whenBalser's string of fish struck the bear in the mouth, he grabbed atthem, and in doing so lost his foothold on the slippery log and fellinto the water with a great splash and plunge. This was Balser's chance for life, so he flung the fish to the bear, andran for the bank with a speed worthy of the cause. When he reached the bank his self-confidence returned, and he rememberedall the things he had said he would do if he should meet a bear. The bear had caught the fish, and again had climbed upon the log, wherehe was deliberately devouring them. This was Little Balser's chance for death--to the bear. Quicklysnatching up the gun, he rested it in the fork of a small tree near by, took deliberate aim at the bear, which was not five yards away, and shothim through the heart. The bear dropped into the water dead, and floateddownstream a little way, where he lodged at a ripple a short distancebelow. Balser, after he had killed the bear, became more frightened than he hadbeen at any time during the adventure, and ran home screaming. Thatafternoon his father went to the scene of battle and took the bear outof the water. It was very fat and large, and weighed, so Mr. Brent said, over six hundred pounds. Balser was firmly of the opinion that he himself was also very fat andlarge, and weighed at least as much as the bear. He was certainlyentitled to feel "big"; for he had got himself out of an ugly scrape ina brave, manly, and cool-headed manner, and had achieved a victory ofwhich a man might have been proud. The news of Balser's adventure soon spread among the neighbors and hebecame quite a hero; for the bear he had killed was one of the largestthat had ever been seen in that neighborhood, and, besides the gallonsof rich bear oil it yielded, there were three or four hundred pounds ofbear meat; and no other food is more strengthening for winter diet. There was also the soft, furry skin, which Balser's mother tanned, andwith it made a coverlid for Balser's bed, under which he and his littlebrother lay many a cold night, cozy and "snug as a bug in a rug. " 385 The selection that follows may serve as an example of an effective Christmas story in the latest fashion. It was not written especially for young people, but neither were many of the books that now stand on the shelf that holds their favorites. It is not only one of the great short stories, but one of the shortest of great-stories. It is quite worthy of use in company with Dickens' _Christmas Carol_, Henry van Dyke's _The Other Wise Man_, and Thomas Nelson Page's _Santa Claus's Partner_, at the Christmas season, and it has the advantages of extreme brevity, a fresh breeziness of style, surprise in the plot, and romantic interest. The magi brought various gifts to the Child in the manger--gold, frankincense, myrrh--but only one gift, that of love. O. Henry does not often moralize, but no reader ever finds fault with his concluding paragraph. The author's real name was William Sidney Porter. He was born in Greensboro, N. C. , in 1862, and died in New York City, in 1910, the most widely read of short-story writers. "The Gift of the Magi" is taken from the volume called _The Four Million_ by special arrangement with the publishers. (Copyright, Doubleday, Page & Co. New York. ) THE GIFT OF THE MAGI O. HENRY One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of itwas in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing thegrocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burnedwith the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And thenext day would be Christmas. There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couchand howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection thatlife is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with snifflespredominating. While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the firststage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8. 00per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly hadthat word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad. In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. JamesDillingham Young. " The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze during a former period ofprosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when theincome was shrunk to $20, the letters of "Dillingham" looked blurred, asthough they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest andunassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home andreached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is allvery good. Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a grey cat walking agrey fence in a grey backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and shehad only $1. 87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been savingevery penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars aweek doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1. 87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many ahappy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Somethingfine and rare and sterling--something just a little bit near to beingworthy of the honor of being owned by Jim. There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you haveseen a pier-glass in an $8. 00 flat. A very thin and very agile personmay, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinalstrips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, beingslender, had mastered the art. Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. Hereyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color withintwenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to itsfull length. Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in whichthey both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had beenhis father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had theQueen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would havelet her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate HerMajesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with allhis treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out hiswatch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard fromenvy. So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her, rippling and shining likea cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itselfalmost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously andquickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear ortwo splashed on the worn red carpet. On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl ofskirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she flutteredout the door and down the stairs to the street. Where she stopped the sign read: "Mme. Sofronie. Hair Goods of AllKinds. " One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie. " "Will you buy my hair?" asked Della. "I buy hair, " said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight atthe looks of it. " Down rippled the brown cascade. "Twenty dollars, " said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand. "Give it to me quick, " said Della. Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashedmetaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present. She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned allof them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste indesign, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not bymeretricious ornamentation--as all good things should do. It was evenworthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must beJim's. It was like him. Quietness and value--the description applied toboth. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried homewith the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properlyanxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, hesometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strapthat he used in place of a chain. When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudenceand reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and wentto work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which isalways a tremendous task, dear friends--a mammoth task. Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curlsthat made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked ather reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically. "If Jim doesn't kill me, " she said to herself, "before he takes a secondlook at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But whatcould I do--oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty-seven cents?" At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying pan was on the back ofthe stove hot and ready to cook the chops. Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat onthe corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then sheheard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and sheturned white for just a moment. She had a habit of saying little silentprayers about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered;"Please God, make him think I am still pretty. " The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin andvery serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two--and to be burdenedwith a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves. Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent ofquail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression inthem that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentimentsthat she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly withthat peculiar expression on his face. Della wriggled off the table and went for him. "Jim, darling, " she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cutoff and sold it because I couldn't have lived through Christmas withoutgiving you a present. It'll grow out again--you won't mind, will you? Ijust had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say 'Merry Christmas!'Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice--what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you. " "You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had notarrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor. "Cut it off and sold it, " said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?" Jim looked about the room curiously. "You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy. "You needn't look for it, " said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold andgone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered, " she went on with a suddenserious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall Iput the chops on, Jim?" Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. Forten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequentialobject in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million ayear--what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give youthe wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was notamong them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on. Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table. "Don't make any mistake, Dell, " he said, "about me. I don't thinkthere's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo thatcould make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that packageyou may see why you had me going a while at first. " White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then anecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change tohysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment ofall the comforting powers of the lord of the flat. For there lay The Combs--the set of combs, side and back, that Della hadworshipped for long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoiseshell, with jewelled rims--just the shade to wear in the beautifulvanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart hadsimply craved and yearned over them without the least hope ofpossession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should haveadorned the coveted adornments were gone. But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look upwith dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!" And then Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!" Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to himeagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash witha reflection of her bright and ardent spirit. "Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll haveto look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. Iwant to see how it looks on it. " Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his handsunder the back of his head and smiled. "Dell, " said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em awhile. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to getthe money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on. " The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who broughtgifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of givingChristmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. Andhere I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of twofoolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each otherthe greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise ofthese days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were thewisest. Of all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi. SECTION IX NATURE LITERATURE BIBLIOGRAPHY Andrews, Jane, _The Stories Mother Nature Told Her Children_. Atkinson, Eleanor S. , _Greyfriars Bobby_. Bertelli, Luigi, _The Prince and His Ants_. Brown, Dr. John, _Rab and His Friends_. Bullen, Frank, _The Cruise of the Cachelot_. Burgess, Thornton W. , _Old Mother West Wind Stories_. Burroughs, John, _Squirrels and Other Fur Bearers_. _Wake Robin. _ Chapman, William G. , _Green-Timber Trails: Wild Animal Stories of the Upper Fur Country_. Ford, Sewell, _Horses Nine_. Hawkes, Clarence, _Shaggycoat_. Hudson, W. H. , _A Little Boy Lost_. Jordan, David Starr, _Science Sketches_. Kellogg, Vernon L. , _Insect Stories_. _Nuova, the New Bee. _ Kingsley, Charles, _Madame How and Lady Why_. Kipling, Rudyard, _Just-So Stories_. _The Jungle Book_ (Two Series). London, Jack, _The Call of the Wild_. Long, William J. , _Wood-Folk Comedies_. _A Little Brother to the Bear. _ Miller, Joaquin, _True Bear Stories_. Miller, Olive Thorne, _The Children's Book of Birds_. Mills, Enos A. , _Scotch_. _The Thousand Year Old Pine. _ Muir, John, _Stickeen_. _Our National Parks. _ Ollivant, Alfred, _Bob, Son of Battle_. "Ouida" (Louisa de la Ramée), _Moufflou_. _The Dog of Flanders. _ Paine, Albert Bigelow, _Hollow-Tree Nights and Days_. _Arkansaw Bear. _ Potter, Beatrix, _Peter Rabbit_. _Benjamin Bunny. _ Roberts, Charles G. D. , _Kings in Exile_. _Children of the Wild. _ Saunders, Marshall, _Beautiful Joe_. Sègur, Sophie, Comtesse de, _The Story of a Donkey_. Seton, Ernest Thompson, _Wild Animals at Home_. _The Biography of a Grizzly. _ Sewell, Anna, _Black Beauty_. Sharp, Dallas Lore, _Beyond the Pasture Bars_. _A Watcher in the Woods. _ Terhune, Albert Payson, _Lad: A Dog_. Thoreau, Henry David, _A Week on the Concord and Merrimac Rivers_. Walton, Izaak, _The Compleat Angler_. White, Gilbert, _The Natural History of Selborne_. The three books that stand at the end of this brief list are probably not ones that any teacher would recommend indiscriminately to pupils of the grades. They are the greatest of the classic books in nature literature and, in a way, constitute the goal of nature lovers. SECTION IX. NATURE LITERATURE INTRODUCTORY _What it is. _ In recent years teachers have heard much talk about"nature study" in the grades. The demand for this study has ledpublishers to print many so-called "nature books" that have neitherscientific fact nor literary worth to justify their existence. Confusionmay be avoided and time may be saved if teachers will remember thatnature literature, as here defined, is a form of _literature_, and thatits purpose therefore is primarily to present truth (not necessarilyfacts) in an entertaining way. The selections in this section are not intended to furnish material fora scientific study of nature. They are nature literature. Some of thempresent scientific facts that add to the literary worth by making thestories more entertaining, but the selections are given because theyillustrate various types of nature literature and the work of famouswriters of nature literature, not because they present scientific facts. _Some types of nature literature. _ One of the oldest forms of natureliterature is the beast tale in which animals are represented as talkingand acting like human beings. Stories of this type entertain while theyreveal the general nature of various kinds of animals. Fables should notbe called nature literature, because their chief purpose is to criticizethe follies of human beings. Some of the Negro folk tales that JoelChandler Harris collected are nature literature of this type. Beasttales, however, are not all old. Stories by such modern authors asThornton W. Burgess and Albert Bigelow Paine, who are represented inthis section, may be called beast tales. They are popular in the primarygrades. Another type of nature literature, quite different from that justdiscussed, has been produced during the last century by students ofnature who endeavor to hold strictly to facts in their writing. This maybe called realistic nature literature. Henry Thoreau, John Burroughs, Olive Thorne Miller, and Dallas Lore Sharp may be mentioned as writersof this kind of literature. As we read their books, we usually feel thatthey are endeavoring to relate incidents as they actually occurred. Alsowe recognize that they are great students of nature, for they perceivedetails that we might not notice and they draw or suggest conclusionsthat we may accept as true, although we might never think of drawing theconclusions. Nature literature of this kind may be no less entertainingthan fairy tales, for it may, in a pleasing way, reveal wonders innature. The selections by Dallas Lore Sharp and Olive Thorne Miller inthis section are of this kind. Most of the writings of Henry Thoreau andJohn Burroughs are in a style too difficult for pupils in the grades. A third type may be called nature romance. Its purpose is both toentertain and to awaken sympathy and love for animals. Stories of thiskind, like other romances, idealize the characters and may have a strongappeal to the emotions. Of the stories in this section, we may classifyas nature romance Beatrix Potter's "Peter Rabbit, " Sewell Ford's "Pasha, the Son of Selim, " Ouida's "Moufflou, " and Rudyard Kipling's "MotiGuj--Mutineer. " A fourth kind of nature literature, sometimes called nature fiction, hasbeen developed within the last quarter of a century and is alreadyrecognized as excellent. The plot is created by the author, although itmay be based on fact, and usually is simple and rambling. One purpose ofthese stories is to show truly how animals live and act, just as onepurpose of a novel or typical short story is to show truly how peoplelive and act. If the author is a skillful story-teller and a goodstudent of nature, the story may make the reader feel that he has becomeacquainted with a particular kind of animal and even with an individualanimal. For example, the story "Last Bull, " by Charles G. D. Roberts, has an effect on the reader not entirely unlike that of one of Cooper's_Leatherstocking Tales_. Prominent among the authors of this veryinteresting and instructive form of literature may be mentioned CharlesG. D. Roberts, Ernest Thompson Seton, William J. Long, and Dallas LoreSharp. _Its place in the grades. _ Nature literature seems to have a place ofincreasing importance in schools, especially in grades above the third. Many excellent books of what we have called the fiction type and therealistic type have a charming spirit of outdoor life and adventure thatmakes them pleasing substitutes for the objectionable dime novel. Oneshould not assume that these nature stories would be of less interestand value to the country child than to the city child. Too often countrychildren have not been taught to think of animals as "little brothers ofthe field and the air. " These nature stories, without any spirit ofpreaching or moralizing, show children how to enjoy nature, whether itbe in the country or the city. They teach the child to form habits ofobservation that encourage healthful recreation. A boy who hasunderstood the spirit of Roberts, Seton, and Sharp is not likely to findthe village poolroom attractive. Nature literature, however, need not betaught merely for moral and practical purposes, for it has come to beliterature of artistic worth, and as such it has earned a place amongother kinds of literature for children. SUGGESTIONS FOR READING A good summary article is "The Rise of the Nature Writers, " by F. W. Halsey, in _Review of Reviews_, Vol. XXVI, p. 567 (November, 1902). The most valuable critical article is "The Literary Treatment of Nature" in John Burroughs, _Ways of Nature_ (also in _Atlantic Monthly_, Vol. XCIV, p. 38 [July, 1904]). In the violent controversy about "nature-faking" which raged some years ago, two articles will give clearly the positions of the contending parties: first, the attack by John Burroughs in "Real and Sham Natural History, " _Atlantic Monthly_, Vol. XCI, p. 298 (March, 1903), and, second, the reply to Burroughs by William J. Long in "The School of Nature Study and Its Critics, " _North American Review_, Vol. CLXXVI, p. 688 (May, 1903). 386 One of the most popular series for very young children is that known as the _Peter Rabbit Books_ after the favorite hero of the early tales. The author is Beatrix Potter, an Englishwoman. In plan these little books resemble the "toy-books" of the eighteenth century in having a bit of text on the left-hand page face a picture on the right. The entire text of "The Tale of Peter Rabbit" is given, but of course text and pictures are so completely one that much is lost by separating them. Children should meet Peter Rabbit before their school days begin. THE TALE OF PETER RABBIT BEATRIX POTTER Once upon a time there were four little Rabbits, and their names wereFlopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-tail, and Peter. They lived with their mother in a sand bank, underneath the root of avery big fir tree. "Now, my dears, " said old Mrs. Rabbit one morning, "you may go into thefields or down the lane, but don't go into Mr. McGregor's garden. Yourfather had an accident there; he was put in a pie by Mrs. McGregor. Nowrun along, and don't get into mischief. I am going out. " Then old Mrs. Rabbit took a basket and her umbrella, and went throughthe wood to the baker's. She bought a loaf of brown bread and fivecurrant buns. Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail, who were good little bunnies, went downthe lane to gather blackberries; but Peter, who was very naughty, ranstraight to Mr. McGregor's garden, and squeezed under the gate. First he ate some lettuces and some French beans; and then he ate someradishes; and then, feeling rather sick, he went to look for someparsley. But round the end of a cucumber frame, whom should he meet but Mr. McGregor! Mr. McGregor was on his hands and knees planting out young cabbages, buthe jumped up and ran after Peter, waving a rake and calling out, "Stopthief!" Peter was most dreadfully frightened; he rushed all over the garden, forhe had forgotten the way back to the gate. He lost one of his shoes amongst the cabbages, and the other shoeamongst the potatoes. After losing them, he ran on four legs and went faster, so that I thinkhe might have got away altogether if he had not unfortunately run into agooseberry net, and got caught by the large buttons on his jacket. Itwas a blue jacket with brass buttons, quite new. Peter gave himself up for lost, and shed big tears; but his sobs wereoverheard by some friendly sparrows, who flew to him in greatexcitement, and implored him to exert himself. Mr. McGregor came up with a sieve, which he intended to pop upon the topof Peter; but Peter wriggled out just in time, leaving his jacket behindhim, and rushed into the tool-shed, and jumped into a can. It would havebeen a beautiful thing to hide in, if it had not had so much water init. Mr. McGregor was quite sure that Peter was somewhere in the tool-shed, perhaps hidden underneath a flower-pot. He began to turn them overcarefully, looking under each. Presently Peter sneezed--"Kerty-schoo!" Mr. McGregor was after him in notime, and tried to put his foot upon Peter, who jumped out of a window, upsetting three plants. The window was too small for Mr. McGregor, andhe was tired of running after Peter. He went back to his work. Peter sat down to rest; he was out of breath and trembling with fright, and he had not the least idea which way to go. Also he was very dampwith sitting in that can. After a time he began to wander about, going lippity--lippity--not veryfast, and looking all around. He found a door in a wall; but it was locked, and there was no room fora fat little rabbit to squeeze underneath. An old mouse was running in and out over the stone doorstep, carryingpeas and beans to her family in the wood. Peter asked her the way to thegate, but she had such a large pea in her mouth that she could notanswer. She only shook her head at him. Peter began to cry. Then he tried to find his way straight across the garden, but he becamemore and more puzzled. Presently, he came to a pond where Mr. McGregorfilled his water-cans. A white cat was staring at some goldfish; she satvery, very still, but now and then the tip of her tail twitched as if itwere alive. Peter thought it best to go away without speaking to her; hehad heard about cats from his cousin, little Benjamin Bunny. He went back towards the tool-shed, but suddenly, quite close to him, heheard the noise of a hoe, --scr-r-ritch scratch, scratch, scritch. Peterscuttered underneath the bushes. But presently, as nothing happened, hecame out, and climbed upon a wheelbarrow and peeped over. The firstthing he saw was Mr. McGregor hoeing onions. His back was turned towardsPeter, and beyond him was the gate! Peter got down very quietly off the wheelbarrow, and started running asfast as he could go, along a straight walk behind some blackcurrant-bushes. Mr. McGregor caught sight of him at the corner, but Peter did not care. He slipped underneath the gate, and was safe at last in the wood outsidethe garden. Mr. McGregor hung up the little jacket and the shoes for a scare-crow tofrighten the blackbirds. Peter never stopped running or looked behind him till he got home to thebig fir-tree. He was so tired that he flopped down upon the nice soft sand on thefloor of the rabbit-hole, and shut his eyes. His mother was busycooking; she wondered what he had done with his clothes. It was thesecond little jacket and a pair of shoes that Peter had lost in afortnight! I am sorry to say that Peter was not very well during the evening. His mother put him to bed, and made some camomile tea; and she gave adoze of it to Peter! "One table-spoonful to be taken at bed-time. " But Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail had bread and milk and blackberriesfor supper. 387 The next selection illustrates well the kind of stories in the _Bedtime Story_ series of twenty volumes by Thornton Waldo Burgess (1874--). The books of this series are entitled _Adventures of Johnny Chuck_, _Adventures of Buster Bear_, _Adventures of Ol' Mistah Buzzard_, etc. These books and the _Old Mother West Wind_ series of eight volumes by the same author are enjoyed by children in the second and third grades. Mr. Burgess is an American author who has been editor of several American magazines. (The following selection is from _Old Mother West Wind_, by permission of the publishers, Little, Brown & Co. , Boston. ) JOHNNY CHUCK FINDS THE BEST THING IN THE WORLD THORNTON W. BURGESS Old Mother West Wind had stopped to talk with the Slender Fir Tree. "I've just come across the Green Meadows, " said Old Mother West Wind, "and there I saw the Best Thing in the World. " Striped Chipmunk was sitting under the Slender Fir Tree and he couldn'thelp hearing what Old Mother West Wind said. "The Best Thing in theWorld--now what can that be?" thought Striped Chipmunk. "Why, it must beheaps and heaps of nuts and acorns! I'll go and find it. " So Striped Chipmunk started down the Lone Little Path through the woodas fast as he could run. Pretty soon he met Peter Rabbit. "Where are you going in such a hurry, Striped Chipmunk?" asked PeterRabbit. "Down in the Green Meadows to find the Best Thing in the World, " repliedStriped Chipmunk, and ran faster. "The Best Thing in the World, " said Peter Rabbit, "why, that must be agreat pile of carrots and cabbage! I think I'll go and find it. " So Peter Rabbit started down the Lone Little Path through the wood asfast as he could go after Striped Chipmunk. As they passed the great hollow tree Bobby Coon put his head out. "Whereare you going in such a hurry?" asked Bobby Coon. "Down in the Green Meadows to find the Best Thing in the World!" shoutedStriped Chipmunk and Peter Rabbit, and both began to run faster. "The Best Thing in the World, " said Bobby Coon to himself, "why, thatmust be a whole field of sweet milky corn! I think I'll go and find it. " So Bobby Coon climbed down out of the great hollow tree and started downthe Lone Little Path through the wood as fast as he could go afterStriped Chipmunk and Peter Rabbit, for there is nothing that Bobby Coonlikes to eat so well as sweet milky corn. At the edge of the wood they met Jimmy Skunk. "Where are you going in such a hurry?" asked Jimmy Skunk. "Down in the Green Meadows to find the Best Thing in the World!" shoutedStriped Chipmunk and Peter Rabbit and Bobby Coon. Then they all tried torun faster. "The Best Thing in the World, " said Jimmy Skunk. "Why, that must bepacks and packs of beetles!" And for once in his life Jimmy Skunk beganto hurry down the Lone Little Path after Striped Chipmunk and PeterRabbit and Bobby Coon. They were all running so fast that they didn't see Reddy Fox until hejumped out of the long grass and asked: "Where are you going in such a hurry?" "To find the Best Thing in the World!" shouted Striped Chipmunk andPeter Rabbit and Bobby Coon and Jimmy Skunk, and each did his best torun faster. "The Best Thing in the World, " said Reddy Fox to himself. "Why, thatmust be a whole pen full of tender young chickens, and I must havethem. " So away went Reddy Fox as fast as he could run down the Lone Little Pathafter Striped Chipmunk, Peter Rabbit, Bobby Coon and Jimmy Skunk. By and by they all came to the house of Johnny Chuck. "Where are you going in such a hurry?" asked Johnny Chuck. "To find the Best Thing in the World, " shouted Striped Chipmunk andPeter Rabbit and Bobby Coon and Jimmy Skunk and Reddy Fox. "The Best Thing in the World, " said Johnny Chuck. "Why I don't know ofanything better than my own little home and the warm sunshine and thebeautiful blue sky. " So Johnny Chuck stayed at home and played all day among the flowers withthe Merry Little Breezes of Old Mother West Wind and was as happy ascould be. But all day long Striped Chipmunk and Peter Rabbit and Bobby Coon andJimmy Skunk and Reddy Fox ran this way and ran that way over the GreenMeadows trying to find the Best Thing in the World. The sun was very, very warm and they ran so far and they ran so fast that they were very, very hot and tired, and still they hadn't found the Best Thing in theWorld. When the long day was over they started up the Lone Little Path pastJohnny Chuck's house to their own homes. They didn't hurry now for theywere so very, very tired! And they were cross--oh so cross! StripedChipmunk hadn't found a single nut. Peter Rabbit hadn't found so much asthe leaf of a cabbage. Bobby Coon hadn't found the tiniest bit of sweetmilky corn. Jimmy Skunk hadn't seen a single beetle. Reddy Fox hadn'theard so much as the peep of a chicken. And all were as hungry as hungrycould be. Half way up the Lone Little Path they met Old Mother West Wind going toher home behind the hill. "Did you find the Best Thing in the World?"asked Old Mother West Wind. "No!" shouted Striped Chipmunk and Peter Rabbit and Bobby Coon and JimmySkunk and Reddy Fox all together. "Johnny Chuck has it, " said Old Mother West Wind. "It is being happywith the things you have and not wanting things which some one else has. And it is called Con-tent-ment. " 388 Albert Bigelow Paine (1861--), an American author at one time connected with the editorial department of _St. Nicholas Magazine_, has for more than twenty years been known as the biographer of Mark Twain. He is a popular writer of stories for children. Pupils in the fifth grade like his story _The Arkansaw Bear_. Some of his books suitable for the third and fourth grades are _Hollow-Tree Nights and Days_, _The Hollow Tree_, and _The Deep Woods_. ("Mr. 'Possum's Sick Spell" is from _Hollow-Tree Nights and Days_, and is used by permission of the publishers, Harper & Brothers, New York. ) MR. 'POSSUM'S SICK SPELL ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE Once upon a time, said the Story Teller, something very sad nearlyhappened in the Hollow Tree. It was Mr. 'Possum's turn, one night, togo out and borrow a chicken from Mr. Man's roost, and coming home hefell into an old well and lost his chicken. He nearly lost himself, too, for the water was icy cold and Mr. 'Possum thought he would freeze todeath before he could climb out, because the rocks were slippery and hefell back several times. As it was, he got home almost dead, and next morning was sicker than hehad ever been before in his life. He had pains in his chest and otherplaces, and was all stuffed up in his throat and very scared. The 'Coonand the Crow who lived in the Hollow Tree with him were scared, too. They put him to bed in the big room down-stairs, and said they thoughtthey ought to send for somebody, and Mr. Crow said that Mr. Owl was agood hand with sick folks, because he looked so wise and didn't saymuch, which always made the patient think he knew something. So Mr. Crow hurried over and brought Mr. Owl, who put on his glasses andlooked at Mr. 'Possum's tongue, and felt of his pulse, and listened tohis breathing, and said that the cold water seemed to have struck in andthat the only thing to do was for Mr. 'Possum to stay in bed and drinkhot herb tea and not eat anything, which was a very bad prescription forMr. 'Possum, because he hated herb tea and was very partial to eating. He groaned when he heard it and said he didn't suppose he'd ever live toenjoy himself again, and that he might just as well have stayed in thewell with the chicken, which was a great loss and doing no good toanybody. Then Mr. Owl went away, and told the Crow outside that Mr. 'Possum was a very sick man, and that at his time of life and in hisstate of flesh his trouble might go hard with him. So Mr. Crow went back into the kitchen and made up a lot of herb tea andkept it hot on the stove, and Mr. 'Coon sat by Mr. 'Possum's bed andmade him drink it almost constantly, which Mr. 'Possum said might curehim if he didn't die of it before the curing commenced. He said if he just had that chicken, made up with a good platter ofdumplings, he believed it would do him more good than anything, and hebegged the 'Coon to go and fish it out, or to catch another one, and tryit on him, and then if he did die he would at least have fewer regrets. But the Crow and the 'Coon said they must do as Mr. Owl ordered, unlessMr. 'Possum wanted to change doctors, which was not a good plan untilthe case became hopeless, and that would probably not be before sometime in the night. Mr. 'Coon said, though, there was no reason why thatnice chicken should be wasted, and as it would still be fresh, he wouldrig up a hook and line and see if he couldn't save it. So he got out hisfishing things and made a grab hook and left Mr. Crow to sit by Mr. 'Possum until he came back. He could follow Mr. 'Possum's track to theplace, and in a little while he had the fine, fat chicken, and came homewith it and showed it to the patient, who had a sinking spell when helooked at it, and turned his face to the wall and said he seemed to havelived in vain. Mr. Crow, who always did the cooking, said he'd better put the chickenon right away, under the circumstances, and then he remembered a bottleof medicine he had once seen sitting on Mr. Man's window-sill outside, and he said while the chicken was cooking he'd just step over and getit, as it might do the patient good, and it didn't seem as if anythingnow could do him any harm. So the Crow dressed the nice chicken and put it in the pot with thedumplings, and while Mr. 'Coon dosed Mr. 'Possum with the hot herb teaMr. Crow slipped over to Mr. Man's house and watched a good chance whenthe folks were at dinner, and got the bottle and came back with it andfound Mr. 'Possum taking a nap and the 'Coon setting the table; for thedinner was about done and there was a delicious smell of dumplings andchicken, which made Mr. 'Possum begin talking in his sleep aboutstarving to death in the midst of plenty. Then he woke up and seemed tosuffer a good deal, and the Crow gave him a dose of Mr. Man's medicine, and said that if Mr. 'Possum was still with them next morning they'dsend for another doctor. Mr. 'Possum took the medicine and choked on it, and when he could speaksaid he wouldn't be with them. He could tell by his feelings, he said, that he would never get through this day of torture, and he wanted tosay some last words. Then he said that he wanted the 'Coon to have hisSunday suit, which was getting a little tight for him and would justabout fit Mr. 'Coon, and that he wanted the Crow to have his pipe andtoilet articles, to remember him by. He said he had tried to do well bythem since they had all lived together in the Hollow Tree, and hesupposed it would be hard for them to get along without him, but thatthey would have to do the best they could. Then he guessed he'd try tosleep a little, and closed his eyes. Mr. 'Coon looked at Mr. Crow andshook his head, and they didn't feel like sitting down to dinner rightaway, and pretty soon when they thought Mr. 'Possum was asleep theyslipped softly up to his room to see how sad it would seem without him. Well, they had only been gone a minute when Mr. 'Possum woke up, for thesmell of that chicken and dumpling coming in from Mr. Crow's kitchen wastoo much for him. When he opened his eyes and found that Mr. 'Coon andMr. Crow were not there, and that he felt a little better--perhapsbecause of Mr. Man's medicine--he thought he might as well step out andtake one last look at chicken and dumpling, anyway. It was quite warm, but, being all in a sweat, he put the bed-sheetaround him to protect him from the draughts and went out to the stoveand looked into the pot, and when he saw how good it looked he thoughthe might as well taste of it to see if it was done. So he did, and ittasted so good and seemed so done that he got out a little piece ofdumpling on a fork, and blew on it to cool it, and ate it, and thenanother piece and then the whole dumpling, which he sopped around in thegravy after each bite. Then when the dumpling was gone he fished up achicken leg and ate that and then a wing, and then the gizzard and feltbetter all the time, and pretty soon poured out a cup of coffee anddrank that, all before he remembered that he was sick abed and notexpected to recover. Then he happened to think and started back to bed, but on the way there he heard Mr. 'Coon and Mr. Crow talking softly inhis room and he forgot again that he was so sick and went up to seeabout it. Mr. 'Coon and Mr. Crow had been quite busy up in Mr. 'Possum's room. They had looked at all the things, and Mr. Crow remarked that thereseemed to be a good many which Mr. 'Possum had not mentioned, and whichthey could divide afterward. Then he picked up Mr. 'Possum's pipe andtried it to see if it would draw well, as he had noticed, he said, thatMr. 'Possum sometimes had trouble with it, and the 'Coon went over tothe closet and looked at Mr. 'Possum's Sunday suit, and pretty soon gotit out and tried on the coat, which wouldn't need a thing done to it tomake it fit exactly. He said he hoped Mr. 'Possum was resting well, after the medicine, which he supposed was something to make him sleep, as he had seemed drowsy so soon after taking it. He said it would besad, of course, though it might seem almost a blessing, if Mr. 'Possumshould pass away in his sleep, without knowing it, and he hoped Mr. 'Possum would rest in peace and not come back to distress people, as oneof Mr. 'Coon's own ancestors had done, a good while ago. Mr. 'Coon saidhis mother used to tell them about it when she wanted to keep them athome nights, though he didn't really believe in such things much, anymore, and he didn't think Mr. 'Possum would be apt to do it, anyway, because he was always quite a hand to rest well. Of course, _any one_was likely to _think_ of such things, he said, and get a little nervous, especially at a time like this--and just then Mr. 'Coon looked towardthe door that led down to the big room, and Mr. Crow he looked towardthat door, too, and Mr. 'Coon gave a great jump, and said: "Oh, my goodness!" and fell back over Mr. 'Possum's trunk. And Mr. Crow he gave a great jump, too, and said: "Oh, my gracious!" and fell back over Mr. 'Possum's chair. For there in the door stood a figure shrouded all in white, all exceptthe head, which was Mr. 'Possum's, though very solemn, its eyes lookingstraight at Mr. 'Coon, who still had on Mr. 'Possum's coat, though hewas doing his best to get it off, and at Mr. Crow, who still had Mr. 'Possum's pipe, though he was trying every way to hide it, and both ofthem were scrabbling around on the floor and saying, "Oh, Mr. 'Possum, go away--please go away, Mr. 'Possum--we always loved you, Mr. 'Possum--we can prove it. " But Mr. 'Possum looked straight at Mr. 'Coon, and said in a deep voice: "What were you doing with my Sunday coat on?" And Mr. 'Coon tried to say something, but only made a few weak noises. And Mr. 'Possum looked at Mr. Crow and said: "What were you doing with my pipe?" And a little sweat broke out on Mr. Crow's bill, and he opened his mouthas if he were going to say something, but couldn't make a sound. Then Mr. 'Possum said, in a slow voice, so deep that it seemed to comefrom down in the ground: "_Give me my things!_" And Mr. 'Coon and Mr. Crow said, very shaky: "Oh y-yes, Mr. 'Possum, w-we meant to, a-all the t-time. " And they tried to get up, but were so scared and weak they couldn't, andall at once Mr. 'Possum gave a great big laugh and threw off his sheetand sat down on a stool, and rocked and laughed, and Mr. 'Coon and Mr. Crow realized then that it was Mr. 'Possum himself, and not just hisappearance, as they had thought. Then they sat up, and pretty soon beganto laugh, too, though not very gaily at first, but feeling more cheerfulevery minute, because Mr. 'Possum himself seemed to enjoy it so much. Then Mr. 'Possum told them about everything, and how Mr. Man's medicinemust have made him well, for all his pains and sorrows had left him, andhe invited them down to help finish up the chicken which had cost him somuch suffering. So then they all went down to the big room and the Crow brought in thebig platter of dumplings, and a pan of biscuits and some molasses, and apot of coffee, and they all sat down and celebrated Mr. 'Possum'srecovery. And when they were through, and everything was put away, theysmoked, and Mr. 'Possum said he was glad he was there to use hisproperty a little more, and that probably his coat would fit him againnow, as his sickness had caused him to lose flesh. He said that Mr. Man's medicine was certainly wonderful, but just then Mr. Rabbit droppedin, and when they told him about it, he said of course the medicinemight have had some effect, but that the dumplings and chicken causedthe real cure. He said there was an old adage to prove that--one thathis thirty-fifth great-grandfather had made for just such a case of thiskind. This, Mr. Rabbit said, was the adage: "If you want to live forever Stuff a cold and starve a fever. " Mr. 'Possum's trouble had come from catching cold, he said, so thedumplings were probably just what he needed. Then Mr. Owl dropped in tosee how his patient was, and when he saw him sitting up, and smoking, and well, he said it was wonderful how his treatment had worked, and theHollow Tree people didn't tell him any different, for they didn't liketo hurt Mr. Owl's feelings. 389 Prominent among writers of the new realistic nature literature is Dallas Lore Sharp (1870--), professor of English in Boston University. Mr. Sharp's stories and descriptive sketches of nature reveal charming details in out-of-door life that the ordinary observer overlooks, and they encourage the reader to seek entertainment in fields and woods. Most of his nature writings are suitable for pupils in grades from the fifth to the eighth. Some of his books are _Beyond the Pasture Bars_, _A Watcher in the Woods_, _Roof and Meadow_, and _Where Rolls the Oregon_. ("Wild Life in the Farm Yard, " from _Beyond the Pasture Bars_, is used by permission of The Century Co. , New York City. ) WILD LIFE IN THE FARM-YARD DALLAS LORE SHARP I want you to visit a farm where there are turkeys and geese andguineas. If you live in New York City or in Chicago you may not be ableto do so for some time. Then take a trip to the market or to thezoölogical gardens. But most of you live close enough to the country, sothat you could easily find a farmer who would invite you out to see hisprize gobbler and his great hissing gander. However, I shall not wait to _send_ you for I am going to _take_you--now--out to an old farm that I loved as a boy where there areturkeys and geese and guineas and pigs and pigeons, cows and horses andmules, cats and dogs, chickens and bees and sheep, and a hornets' nestand a nest of flying squirrels in the same old grindstone apple-tree, and a pair of barn owls in the old wagon house, and--I don't know whatelse; for there was everything on the old farm when I was a boy, and Isuppose we shall find everything there yet. I want you to see the turkeys. I want you to follow an old hen turkey toher stolen nest. I want you to watch the old gobbler turkey take hisfamily to bed--to roost, I mean. For unless you are a boy, and areliving in the wild portions of Georgia and the southeastern states, youmay never see a wild turkey. For that reason I want you to watch thistame turkey, because he is almost as wild as a wild turkey in everythingexcept his fear of you. He has been tamed, we know, since the year 1526, yet not one of his wild habits has been changed. So it is with the house cat. We have tamed the house cat, but we havenot changed the wild, night-prowling hunter in him. You have to smooth acat the right way, or the _wild_ cat in him will scratch and bite you. Have you never seen his tail twitch, his eyes blaze, his claws work ashe has crouched watching at a rat's hole, or crawled stealthily upon abird in the meadow grass? So, if you will watch, you shall see a real wild turkey in the tamestold gobbler on the farm. Watch him go to roost. Watch him get _ready_ to go to roost, I shouldsay, for a turkey seems to begin to think of roosting about noon-time, especially in the winter; and it takes him from about noon till night tomake up his mind that he really must go to roost. He comes along under the apple-tree of a December afternoon and looks upat the leafless limbs where he has been roosting since summer. Hestretches his long neck, lays his little brainless head over on oneside, then over on the other. He takes a good _long_ look at the limb. Then bobs his head--one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-_ten_times, or perhaps twenty-two or -three times, and takes a still _longer_look at the limb, saying to himself--_quint, quint, quint, quint!_ whichmeans: "I think I'll go to roost! I think _I'll_ go to roost! I thinkI'll go to _roost_! I think I'll _go_ to roost! I think I'll go _to_roost! I _think_ I'll go to roost!" He _thinks_ he will, but he hasn'tmade up his mind quite. Then he stretches his long neck again, lays his little witless head onthe side again, bobs and bobs, looks and looks and looks, says _quint, quint, quint, quint_--"I _think_ I'll go to roost, " but is just asundecided as ever. He does the performance over and over again and would never go to roostif the darkness did not come and compel him. He would stand under thattree stretching, turning, looking, bobbing, "squinting, " _thinking_, until he thought his head off, saying all the while-- One for the money; two for the show; Three to get ready; and four to--_get ready to go!_ But after a while, along toward dusk (and awfully suddenly!)--_flop!gobble! splutter! whoop!_--and there he is, up on the limb, safe! Reallysafe! But it was an exceedingly close call. And this is the very way the wild turkey acts. The naturalists who had achance to study the great flocks of wild turkeys years ago describethese same absurd actions. This lack of snap and decision is notsomething the tame turkey has learned in the farm-yard. The fact is hedoes not seem to have learned anything during his 350 years in thebarn-yard, nor does he seem to have forgotten anything that he knew as awild turkey in the woods, except his fear of man. Late in October the wild turkeys of a given neighborhood would gettogether in flocks of from ten to a hundred and travel on foot throughthe rich bottom lands in search of food. In these journeys the maleswould go ahead, apart from the females, and lead the way. The hens, eachconducting her family in a more or less separate group, came stragglingleisurely along in the rear. As they advanced, they would meet otherflocks, thus swelling their numbers. After a time they were sure to come to a river--a dreadful thing, for, like the river of the old song, it was a river _to cross_. Up and downthe banks would stalk the gobblers, stretching their necks out over thewater and making believe to start, as they do when going to roost in theapple-trees. All day long, all the next day, all the third day, if the river waswide, they would strut and cluck along the shore, making up their minds. The ridiculous creatures have wings; they can fly; but they are afraid!After all these days, however, the whole flock has mounted the tallesttrees along the bank. One of the gobblers has come forward as leader inthe emergency. Suddenly, from his perch, he utters a single cluck--thesignal for the start, --and every turkey sails into the air. There is agreat flapping--and the terrible river is crossed. A few weak members fall on the way over, but not to drown. Drawing theirwings close in against their sides, and spreading their round fan-liketails to the breeze, they strike out as if born to swim, and comequickly to land. The tame turkey-hen is notorious for stealing her nest. The wild hensteals hers--not to plague her owner, of course, as is the common beliefabout the domestic turkey, but to get away from the gobbler, who, inorder to prolong the honeymoon, will break the eggs as fast as they arelaid. He has just enough brains to be sentimental, jealous, andboundlessly fond of himself. His wives, too, are foolish enough toworship him, until--there is an egg in the nest. That event makes themwise. They understand this strutting coxcomb, and quietly turning theirbacks on him, leave him to parade alone. There are crows, also, and buzzards from whom the wild turkey hen musthide the eggs. Nor dare she forget her own danger while sitting, forthere are foxes, owls, and prowling lynxes ready enough to pounce uponher. On the farm there are still many of these enemies besides the worstof them all, the farmer himself. For a nest the wild hen, like the tame turkey of the pasture, scratchesa slight depression in the ground, usually under a thick bush, sometimesin a hollow log, and there lays from twelve to twenty eggs, which aresomewhat smaller and more elongated than the tame turkey's, but of thesame color: dull cream, sprinkled with reddish dots. I have often hunted for stolen turkey nests, and hunted in vain, becausethe cautious mother had covered her eggs when leaving them. This is oneof the wild habits that has persisted. The wild hen, as the hatchingapproaches, will not trust even this precaution, however, but remainswithout food and drink upon the nest until the chicks can be led off. She can scarcely be driven from the nest, often allowing herself to becaptured first. Mother-love burns fierce in her. Such helpless things are her chicks!She hears them peeping in the shell and breaks it to help them out. Shepreens and dries them and keeps them close under her for days. Not for a week after they are hatched does she allow them out in a rain. If, after that, they get a cold wetting, the wild mother, it is said, will feed the buds of the spice-bush to her brood, as our grandmothersused to administer mint tea to us. The tame hen does seem to have lost something of this wild-mother skill, doubtless because for many generations she has been entirely freed ofthe larger part of the responsibility. I never knew a tame mother turkey to doctor her infants for vermin. Butthe wild hen will. The woods are full of ticks and detestable vermin asdeadly as cold rains. When her brood begins to lag and pine, the wildmother knows, and leading them to some old ant-hill, she gives them asousing dust-bath. The vermin hate the odor of the ant-scented dust, andafter a series of these baths disappear. This is wise; and if this report be true, then the wild turkey is aswise and far-seeing a mother as the woods contain. One observer eventells of three hens that stole off together and fixed up a nest betweenthemselves. Each put in her eggs--forty-two in all--and each took turnsguarding, so that the nest was never left alone. What special enemy caused this unique partnership the naturalist doesnot say. The three mothers built together, brooded together, andtogether guarded the nest. But how did those three mothers divide thebabies? I said I wanted you to visit a farm where there are turkeys. And youwill have to if you would see the turkey at home. For, though I havetraveled through the South, and been in the swamps and river "bottoms"there all along the Savannah, with wild turkeys around me, I have neverseen a live one. I was in a small steamboat on the Savannah River one night. We were tiedup till morning along the river bank under the trees of the deep swamp. Twilight and the swamp silence had settled about us. The moon came up. Abanjo had been twanging, but the breakdown was done, the shuffling feetquiet. The little cottonboat had become a part of the moonlit silenceand the river swamp. Two or three roustabouts were lounging upon some rosin-barrels near by, under the spell of the round autumnal moon. There was frost in the air, and fragrant odors, but not a sound, not a cry or call of beast or bird, until, suddenly, breaking through the silence with a jarring eery echo, was heard the hoot of the great horned owl. One of the roustabouts dropped quickly to the deck and held up his handfor silence. We all listened. And again came the uncanny_Whoo-hoo-hoo-whoo-you-oh-oh!_ "Dat ol' King Owl, " whispered the darky. "Him's lookin' fer turkey. Ol'gobbler done gone hid, I reckon. Listen! Ol' King Owl gwine make ol'gobbler talk back. " We listened, but there was no frightened "gobble" from the tree-tops. There were wild turkeys all around me in the swamp; but, though I sat upuntil the big southern moon rode high overhead, I heard no answer, nochallenge to the echoing hoot of the great owl. The next day a coloredboy brought aboard the boat a wild turkey which he had shot in theswamp; but I am still waiting to see and hear the great bronze birdalive in its native haunts. 390 Vernon L. Kellogg (1867--) is a professor in Leland Stanford Junior University whose writings have been chiefly scientific. His _Insect Stories_, from which the next selection is taken, is an interesting and instructive group of stories suitable for pupils in the third, fourth, or fifth grade. A later book is called _Nuova, the New Bee_. ("The Vendetta" is used by permission of the publishers, Henry Holt & Co. , New York City. ) THE VENDETTA VERNON L. KELLOGG This is the story of a fight. In the first story of this book, I saidthat Mary and I had seen a remarkable fight one evening at sundown onthe slopes of the bare brown foothills west of the campus. It was not abattle of armies--we have seen that, too, in the little world wewatch, --but a combat of gladiators, a struggle between two championsborn and bred for fighting, and particularly for fighting each other. One champion was Eurypelma, the great, black, hairy, eight-legged, strong-fanged tarantula of California, and the other was Pepsis, amighty wasp in dull-blue mail, with rusty-red wings and a poisonousjavelin of a sting that might well frighten either you or me. Do youhave any wasp in your neighborhood of the ferocity and strength and sizeof Pepsis? If not, you can hardly realize what a terrible creature sheis. With her strong hard-cased body an inch and a half long, borne onpowerful wings that expand fully three inches, and her long and strongneedle-pointed sting that darts in and out like a flash and is alwaysfull of virulent poison, Pepsis is certainly queen of all the waspamazons. But if that is so, no less is Eurypelma greatest, mostdreadful, and fiercest, and hence king, of all the spiders in thiscountry. In South America and perhaps elsewhere in the tropics, live thefierce bird-spiders with thick legs extending three inches or more oneach side of their ugly hairy bodies. Eurypelma, the Californiatarantula, is not quite so large as that, nor does he stalk, pounce onand kill little birds as his South American cousin is said to do, but heis nevertheless a tremendous and fear-inspiring creature among the smallbeasties of field and meadow. But not all Eurypelmas are so ferocious; or at least are not ferociousall the time. There are individual differences among them. Perhaps it isa matter of age or health. Anyway, I had a pet tarantula which I kept inan open jar in my room for several weeks, and I could handle him withimpunity. He would sit gently on my hand, or walk deliberately up myarm, with his eight, fixed, shining, little reddish eyes staring hardat me, and his long seven-jointed hairy legs swinging gently andrhythmically along, without a sign of hesitation or excitement. His hairwas almost gray and perhaps this hoariness and general sedatenessbetokened a ripe old age. But his great fangs were unblunted, his supplyof poison undiminished, and his skill in striking and killing his preystill perfect, as often proved at his feeding times. He is quite thelargest Eurypelma I have ever seen. He measures--for I still have hisbody, carefully stuffed, and fastened on a block with legs all spreadout--five inches from tip to tip of opposite legs. At the same time that I had this hoary old tarantula, I had anothersmaller, coal-black fellow who went into a perfect ecstasy of anger andferocity every time any one came near him. He would stand on his hindlegs and paw wildly with fore legs and palpi, and lunge forward fiercelyat my inquisitive pencil. I found him originally in the middle of anentry into a classroom, holding at bay an entire excited class of artstudents armed with mahl-sticks and paint-brushes. The students weremostly women, and I was hailed as deliverer and greatest _dompteur_ ofbeasts when I scooped Eurypelma up in a bottle and walked off with him. But this is not telling of the sundown fight that Mary and I sawtogether. We had been over to the sand-cut by the golf links, aftermining-bees, and were coming home with a fine lot of their holes andsome of the bees themselves, when Mary suddenly called to me to "see thenice tarantula. " Perhaps nice isn't the best word for him, but he certainly was anunusually imposing and fluffy-haired and fierce-looking brute of atarantula. He had rather an owly way about him, as if he had come outfrom his hole too early and was dazed and half-blinded by the light. Tarantulas are night prowlers; they do all their hunting after dark, digtheir holes and, indeed, carry on all the various businesses of theirlife in the night-time. The occasional one found walking about indaytime has made a mistake, someway, and he blunders around quite likean owl in the sunshine. All of a sudden, while Mary and I were smiling at this too early bird ofa tarantula, he went up on his hind legs in fighting attitude, and atthe same instant down darted a great tarantula hawk, that is, a Pepsiswasp. Her armored body glinted cool and metallic in the red sunsetlight, and her great wings had a suggestive shining of dull fire aboutthem. She checked her swoop just before reaching Eurypelma, and made aquick dart over him, and then a quick turn back, intending to catch thetarantula in the rear. But lethargic and owly as Eurypelma had been amoment before, he was now all alertness and agility. He had to be. Hewas defending his life. One full fair stab of the poisoned javelin, sheathed but ready at the tip of the flexible, blue-black body hoveringover him, and it would be over with Eurypelma. And he knew it. Orperhaps he didn't. But he acted as if he did. He was going to do hisbest not to be stabbed; that was sure. And Pepsis was going to do herbest to stab; that also was quickly certain. At the same time Pepsis knew--or anyway acted as if she did--that to bestruck by one or both of those terrible vertical, poison-filled fangswas sure death. It would be like a blow from a battle-axe, with theadded horror of mortal poison poured into the wound. So Eurypelma about-faced like a flash, and Pepsis was foiled in herstrategy. She flew up and a yard away, then returned to the attack. Sheflew about in swift circles over his head, preparatory to darting inagain. But Eurypelma was ready. As she swooped viciously down, he lungedup and forward with a half-leap, half-forward fall, and came within anace of striking the trailing blue-black abdomen with his reaching fangs. Indeed it seemed to Mary and me as if they really grazed the metallicbody. But evidently they had not pierced the smooth armor. Nor hadPepsis in that breathless moment of close quarters been able to planther lance. She whirled, up high this time but immediately back, althougha little more wary evidently, for she checked her downward plunge threeor four inches from the dancing champion on the ground. And so for wildminute after minute it went on; Eurypelma always up and tip-toeing onthose strong hind legs, with open, armed mouth always toward the pointof attack, and Pepsis ever darting down, up, over, across, and in andout in dizzy dashes, but never quite closing. Were Mary and I excited? Not a word could we utter; only now and then aswift intake of breath; a stifled "O" or "Ah" or "See. " And then of asudden came the end. Pepsis saw her chance. A lightning swoop carriedher right on to the hairy champion. The quivering lance shot home. Thepoison coursed into the great soft body. But at the same moment theterrible fangs struck fair on the blue armor and crashed through it. Twoawful wounds, and the wings of dull fire beat violently only to strikeup a little cloud of dust and whirl the mangled body around and around. Fortunately Death was merciful, and the brave amazon made a quick end. But what of Eurypelma, the killer? Was it well with him? The sting-madewound itself was of little moment; it closed as soon as the lancetwithdrew. But not before the delicate poison sac at its base inside thewasp-body had contracted and squirted down the slender hollow of thesting a drop of liquid fire. And so it was not well with Eurypelma inhis insides. Victor he seemed to be, but if he could think, he must havehad grave doubts about the joys of victory. For a curious drowsiness was coming over him. Perhaps, disquietingthought, it was the approaching stupor of the poison's working. Hisstrong long legs became limp, they would not work regularly, they couldnot hold his heavy hairy body up from the ground. He would get into hishole and rest. But it was too late. And after a few uneven steps, victorEurypelma settled heavily down beside his amazon victim, inert andforevermore beyond fighting. He was paralyzed. And so Mary and I brought him home in our collecting box, together withthe torn body of Pepsis with her wings of slow fire dulled by the dustof her last struggles. And though it is a whole month now sinceEurypelma received his stab from the poisoned javelin of Pepsis, he hasnot recovered; nor will he ever. When you touch him, he draws up slowlyone leg after another, or moves a palpus feebly. But it is living death;a hopeless paralytic is the king. Dear reader, you are of course as bright as Mary, and so you havenoticed, as she did right away, the close parallel between what happenedto Eurypelma and what happened to the measuring-worms brought byAmmophila to her nest burrow as described in the first story in thisbook. And so, like Mary, you realize that the vendetta or life feudbetween the tarantula family and the family of Pepsis, the tarantulahawk, is based on reasons of domestic economy rather than on those ofsentiment, which determine vendettas in Corsica and feuds in Kentucky. To be quite plain, Pepsis fights Eurypelma to get his huge, juicy bodyfor food for her young; and Eurypelma fights Pepsis to keep frombecoming paralyzed provender. If Pepsis had escaped unhurt in the combatat which Mary and I "assisted, " as the French say, as enthralledspectators, we should have seen her drag by mighty effort the limp, paralyzed, spider giant to her nest hole not far distant--a great holetwelve inches deep and with a side chamber at the bottom. There shewould have thrust him down the throat of the burrow, and then crawled inand laid an egg on the helpless beast, from which in time would havehatched the carnivorous wasp grub. Pepsis has many close allies amongthe wasps, all black or steely blue with smoky or dull-bronze wings, andthey all use spiders, stung and paralyzed, to store their nest holeswith. "Do the little black and blue wasps hunt the little spiders and thelarger ones the big spiders?" asked Mary. "Exactly, " I respond, "and the giant wasp of them all, Pepsis, the queenof the wasp amazons, hunts only the biggest spider of them all, Eurypelma, the tarantula king, and we have seen her do it. " "Well, " says Mary, "even if she wants him for her children to eat, it'sa real vendetta, isn't it?" "Indeed it is, " I answer, "it's more real, and fiercer, and morerelentless, and more persistent than any human vendetta that ever was. For every Pepsis mother in the world is always hunting for Eurypelmas tofight. And not _all_ Corsicans have a vendetta on hand, nor allKentuckians a feud. " 391 Sewell Ford (1868-) is noted for his fine stories about horses, especially those in _Horses Nine_, from which the following story of "Pasha" is taken. (By permission of the publishers, Charles Scribner's Sons, New York. ) Pasha plays a most important part in a human romance with war as a background, and the combination is very effective. Mr. Ford's _Torchy_ stories are also very popular with young people. PASHA, THE SON OF SELIM SEWELL FORD Long, far too long, has the story of Pasha, son of Selim, remaineduntold. The great Selim, you know, was brought from far across the seas, wherehe had been sold for a heavy purse by a venerable sheik, who tore hisbeard during the bargain and swore by Allah that without Selim therewould be for him no joy in life. Also he had wept quite convincingly onSelim's neck--but he finished by taking the heavy purse. That was howSelim, the great Selim, came to end his days in Fayette County, Kentucky. Of his many sons, Pasha was one. In almost idyllic manner were spent the years of Pasha's coltdom. Theywere years of pasture roaming and blue grass cropping. When the time wasripe, began the hunting lessons. Pasha came to know the feel of thesaddle and the voice of the hounds. He was taught the long, easy lope. He learned how to gather himself for a sail through the air over ahurdle or a water-jump. Then when he could take five bars clean, when hecould clear an eight-foot ditch, when his wind was so sound that hecould lead the chase from dawn until high noon, he was sent to thestables of a Virginia tobacco-planter who had need of a new hunter andwho could afford Arab blood. In the stalls at Gray Oaks stables were many good hunters, but nonebetter than Pasha. Cream-white he was, from the tip of his splendid, yard-long tail to his pink-lipped muzzle. His coat was as silk plush, his neck as supple as a swan's, and out of his big, bright eyes therelooked such intelligence that one half expected him to speak. His lineswere all long, graceful curves, and when he danced daintily on hisslender legs one could see the muscles flex under the delicate skin. Miss Lou claimed Pasha for her very own at first sight. As no one atGray Oaks denied Miss Lou anything at all, to her he belonged from thatinstant. Of Miss Lou, Pasha approved thoroughly. She knew thatbridle-reins were for gentle guidance, not for sawing or jerking, andthat a riding-crop was of no use whatever save to unlatch a gate or tocut at an unruly hound. She knew how to rise on the stirrup when Pashalifted himself in his stride, and how to settle close to the pig-skinwhen his hoofs hit the ground. In other words, she had a good seat, which means as much to the horse as it does to the rider. Besides all this, it was Miss Lou who insisted that Pasha should havethe best of grooming, and she never forgot to bring the dainties whichPasha loved, an apple or a carrot or a sugarplum. It is something, too, to have your nose patted by a soft gloved hand and to have such a personas Miss Lou put her arm around your neck and whisper in your ear. Fromno other than Miss Lou would Pasha permit such intimacy. No paragon, however, was Pasha. He had a temper, and his whims were asmany as those of a school-girl. He was particular as to who put on hisbridle. He had notions concerning the manner in which a currycomb shouldbe used. A red ribbon or a bandanna handkerchief put him in a rage, while green, the holy color of the Mohammedan, soothed his nerves. Alively pair of heels he had, and he knew how to use his teeth. The blackstable-boys found that out, and so did the stern-faced man who was knownas "Mars" Clayton. This "Mars" Clayton had ridden Pasha once, had riddenhim as he rode his big, ugly, hard-bitted roan hunter, and Pasha had notenjoyed the ride. Still, Miss Lou and Pasha often rode out with "Mars"Clayton and the parrot-nosed roan. That is, they did until the coming ofMr. Dave. In Mr. Dave, Pasha found a new friend. From a far Northern State was Mr. Dave. He had come in a ship to buy tobacco, but after he had bought hiscargo he still stayed at Gray Oaks, "to complete Pasha's education, " sohe said. Many ways had Mr. Dave which Pasha liked. He had a gentle manner oftalking to you, of smoothing your flanks and rubbing your ears, whichgained your confidence and made you sure that he understood. He was firmand sure in giving command, yet so patient in teaching one tricks, thatit was a pleasure to learn. So, almost before Pasha knew it, he could stand on his hind legs, couldstep around in a circle in time to a tune which Mr. Dave whistled, andcould do other things which few horses ever learn to do. His chiefaccomplishment, however, was to kneel on his forelegs in the attitude ofprayer. A long time it took Pasha to learn this, but Mr. Dave told himover and over again, by word and sign, until at last the son of thegreat Selim could strike a pose such as would have done credit to aMecca pilgrim. "It's simply wonderful!" declared Miss Lou. But it was nothing of the sort. Mr. Dave had been teaching tricks tohorses ever since he was a small boy, and never had he found such an aptpupil as Pasha. Many a glorious gallop did Pasha and Miss Lou have while Mr. Dave stayedat Gray Oaks, Dave riding the big bay gelding that Miss Lou, with allher daring, had never ventured to mount. It was not all gallopingthough, for Pasha and the big bay often walked for miles through thewood lanes, side by side and very close together, while Miss Lou and Mr. Dave talked, talked, talked. How they could ever find so much to say toeach other Pasha wondered. But at last Mr. Dave went away, and with his going ended good times forPasha, at least for many months. There followed strange doings. Therewas much excitement among the stable-boys, much riding about, day andnight, by the men of Gray Oaks, and no hunting at all. One day thestables were cleared of all horses save Pasha. "Some time, if he is needed badly, you may have Pasha, but not now. "Miss Lou had said. And then she had hidden her face in his cream-whitemane and sobbed. Just what the trouble was Pasha did not understand, buthe was certain "Mars" Clayton was at the bottom of it. No longer did Miss Lou ride about the country. Occasionally she gallopedup and down the highway, to the Pointdexters and back, just to let Pashastretch his legs. Queer sights Pasha saw on these trips. Sometimes hewould pass many men on horses riding close together in a pack, as thehounds run when they have the scent. They wore strange clothing, didthese men, and they carried, instead of riding-crops, big shiny knivesthat swung at their sides. The sight of them set Pasha's nervestingling. He would sniff curiously after them and then prick forward hisears and dance nervously. Of course Pasha knew that something unusual was going on, but what itwas he could not guess. There came a time, however, when he found outall about it. Months had passed when, late one night, a hard-breathing, foam-splotched, mud-covered horse was ridden into the yard and takeninto the almost deserted stable. Pasha heard the harsh voice of "Mars"Clayton swearing at the stable-boy. Pasha heard his own name spoken, andguessed that it was he who was wanted. Next came Miss Lou to thestable. "I'm very sorry, " he heard "Mars" Clayton say, "but I've got to get outof this. The Yanks are not more than five miles behind. " "But you'll take good care of him, won't you?" he heard Miss Lou askeagerly. "Oh, yes; of course, " replied "Mars" Clayton, carelessly. A heavy saddle was thrown on Pasha's back, the girths pulled cruellytight, and in a moment "Mars" Clayton was on his back. They were barelyclear of Gray Oaks driveway before Pasha felt something he had neverknown before. It was as if someone had jabbed a lot of little knivesinto his ribs. Roused by pain and fright, Pasha reared in a wild attemptto unseat this hateful rider. But "Mars" Clayton's knees seemed glued toPasha's shoulders. Next Pasha tried to shake him off by sudden leaps, sidebolts, and stiff-legged jumps. These man[oe]uvres brought viciousjerks on the wicked chain-bit that was cutting Pasha's tender mouthsorrily and more jabs from the little knives. In this way did Pashafight until his sides ran with blood and his breast was plastered thickwith reddened foam. In the meantime he had covered miles of road, and at last, along in thecold gray of the morning, he was ridden into a field where were manytents and horses. Pasha was unsaddled and picketed to a stake. Thislatter indignity he was too much exhausted to resent. All he could dowas to stand, shivering with cold, trembling from nervous excitement, and wait for what was to happen next. It seemed ages before anything did happen. The beginning was a trippingbugle-blast. This was answered by the voice of other bugles blown hereand there about the field. In a moment men began to tumble out of thewhite tents. They came by twos and threes and dozens, until the fieldwas full of them. Fires were built on the ground, and soon Pasha couldscent coffee boiling and bacon frying. Black boys began moving aboutamong the horses with hay and oats and water. One of them rubbed Pashahurriedly with a wisp of straw. It was little like the currying andrubbing with brush and comb and flannel to which he was accustomed andwhich he needed just then, oh, how sadly. His strained muscles hadstiffened so much that every movement gave him pain. So matted was hiscoat with sweat and foam and mud that it seemed as if half the pores ofhis skin were choked. He had cooled his parched throat with a long draught of somewhat muddywater, but he had eaten only half of the armful of hay when again thebugles sounded and "Mars" Clayton appeared. Tightening the girths, untilthey almost cut into Pasha's tender skin, he jumped into the saddle androde off to where a lot of big black horses were being reined into line. In front of this line Pasha was wheeled. He heard the bugles sound oncemore, heard his rider shout something to the men behind, felt the wickedlittle knives in his sides, and then, in spite of aching legs, wasforced into a sharp gallop. Although he knew it not, Pasha had joinedthe Black Horse Cavalry. The months that followed were to Pasha one long, ugly dream. Not that heminded the hard riding by day and night. In time he became used to allthat. He could even endure the irregular feeding, the sleeping in theopen during all kinds of weather, and the lack of proper grooming. Butthe vicious jerks on the torture-provoking cavalry bit, the flat sabreblows on the flank which he not infrequently got from his ill-temperedmaster, and, above all, the cruel digs of the spur-wheels--these thingshe could not understand. Such treatment he was sure he did not merit. "Mars" Clayton he came to hate more and more. Some day, Pasha toldhimself, he would take vengeance with teeth and heels, even if he diedfor it. In the meantime he had learned the cavalry drill. He came to know themeaning of each varying bugle-call, from reveille, when one began to pawand stamp for breakfast, to mournful taps, when lights went out, and thetents became dark and silent. Also, one learned to slow from a gallopinto a walk; when to wheel to the right or to the left, and when tostart on the jump as the first notes of a charge were sounded. It wasbetter to learn the bugle-calls, he found, than to wait for a jerk onthe bits or a prod from the spurs. No more was he terror-stricken, as he had been on his first day in thecavalry, at hearing behind him the thunder of many hoofs. Having oncebecome used to the noise, he was even thrilled by the swinging metre ofit. A kind of wild harmony was in it, something which made one forgeteverything else. At such times Pasha longed to break into his long, wind-splitting lope, but he learned that he must leave the others nomore than a pace or two behind, although he could have easilyoutdistanced them all. Also, Pasha learned to stand under fire. No more did he dance at thecrack of carbines or the zipp-zipp of bullets. He could even hold hisground when shells went screaming over him, although this was hardest ofall to bear. One could not see them, but their sound, like that of greatbirds in flight, was something to try one's nerves. Pasha strained hisears to catch the note of each shell that came whizzing overhead, and, as it passed, looked inquiringly over his shoulder as if to ask, "Nowwhat on earth was that?" But all this experience could not prepare him for the happenings of thatnever-to-be-forgotten day in June. There had been a period full of hardriding and ending with a long halt. For several days hay and oats werebrought with some regularity. Pasha was even provided with an apologyfor a stall. It was made by leaning two rails against a fence. Some haywas thrown between the rails. This was a sorry substitute for the roomybox-stall, filled with clean straw, which Pasha always had at Gray Oaks, but it was as good as any provided for the Black Horse Cavalry. And how many, many horses there were! As far as Pasha could see ineither direction the line extended. Never before had he seen so manyhorses at one time. And men! The fields and woods were full of them;some in brown butternut, some in homespun gray, and many in clotheshaving no uniformity of color at all. "Mars" Clayton was dressed betterthan most, for on his butternut coat were shiny shoulder-straps, and itwas closed with shiny buttons. Pasha took little pride in this. He knewhis master for a cruel and heartless rider, and for nothing more. One day there was a great parade, when Pasha was carefully groomed forthe first time in months. There were bands playing and flags flying. Pasha, forgetful of his ill-treatment and prancing proudly at the headof a squadron of coal-black horses, passed in review before a big, bearded man wearing a slouch hat fantastically decorated with longplumes and sitting a great black horse in the midst of a little knot ofofficers. Early the next morning Pasha was awakened by the distant growl of heavyguns. By daylight he was on the move, thousands of other horses withhim. Nearer and nearer they rode to the place where the guns weregrowling. Sometimes they were on roads, sometimes they crossed fields, and again they plunged into the woods where the low branches struckone's eyes and scratched one's flanks. At last they broke clear of thetrees to come suddenly upon such a scene as Pasha had never beforewitnessed. Far across the open field he could see troop on troop of horses comingtoward him. They seemed to be pouring over the crest of a low hill, asif driven onward by some unseen force behind. Instantly Pasha heard, rising from the throats of thousands of riders, on either side andbehind him, that fierce, wild yell which he had come to know meant theapproach of trouble. High and shrill and menacing it rang as it wastaken up and repeated by those in the rear. Next the bugles began tosound, and in quick obedience the horses formed in line just on the edgeof the woods, a line which stretched on either flank until one couldhardly see where it ended. From the distant line came no answering cry, but Pasha could hear thebugles blowing and he could see the fronts massing. Then came the orderto charge at a gallop. This set Pasha to tugging eagerly at the bit, butfor what reason he did not know. He knew only that he was part of agreat and solid line of men and horses sweeping furiously across a fieldtoward that other line which he had seen pouring over the hill crest. He could scarcely see at all now. The thousands of hoofs had raised acloud of dust that not only enveloped the onrushing line, but rolledbefore it. Nor could Pasha hear anything save the thunderous thud ofmany feet. Even the shrieking of the shells was drowned. But for therestraining bit Pasha would have leaped forward and cleared the line. Never had he been so stirred. The inherited memory of countless desertraids, made by his Arab ancestors, was doing its work. For what seemed along time this continued, and then, in the midst of the blind andfrenzied race, there loomed out of the thick air, as if it had appearedby magic, the opposing line. Pasha caught a glimpse of something which seemed like a heaving wall oftossing heads and of foam-whitened necks and shoulders. Here and theregleamed red, distended nostrils and straining eyes. Bending above wasanother wall, a wall of dusty blue coats, of grim faces, and ofdust-powdered hats. Bristling above all was a threatening crest ofwaving blades. What would happen when the lines met? Almost before the query wasthought there came the answer. With an earth-jarring crash they cametogether. The lines wavered back from the shock of impact and then thewhole struggle appeared to Pasha to centre about him. Of course this wasnot so. But it was a fact that the most conspicuous figure in eitherline had been that of the cream-white charger in the very centre of theBlack Horse regiment. For one confused moment Pasha heard about his ears the whistle and clashof sabres, the spiteful crackle of small arms, the snorting of horses, and the cries of men. For an instant he was wedged tightly in thefrenzied mass, and then, by one desperate leap, such as he had learnedon the hunting field, he shook himself clear. Not until some minutes later did Pasha notice that the stirrups weredangling empty and that the bridle-rein hung loose on his neck. Then heknew that at last he was free from "Mars" Clayton. At the same time hefelt himself seized by an overpowering dread. While conscious of aguiding hand on the reins Pasha had abandoned himself to the fierce joyof the charge. But now, finding himself riderless in the midst of ahorrid din, he knew not what to do, nor which way to turn. His onlyimpulse was to escape. But where? Lifting high his fine head andsnorting with terror he rushed about, first this way and then that, frantically seeking a way out of this fog-filled field of dreadfulpandemonium. Now he swerved in his course to avoid a charging squad, nowhe was turned aside by prone objects at sight of which he snortedfearfully. Although the blades still rang and the carbines still spoke, there were no more to be seen either lines or order. Here and there inthe dust-clouds scurried horses, some with riders and some without, bytwos, by fours, or in squads of twenty or more. The sound of shootingand slashing and shouting filled the air. To Pasha it seemed an eternity that he had been tearing about the fieldwhen he shied at the figure of a man sitting on the ground. Pasha wasabout to wheel and dash away when the man called to him. Surely thetones were familiar. With wide-open, sniffing nostrils and tremblingknees, Pasha, stopped and looked hard at the man on the ground. "Pasha! Pasha!" the man called weakly. The voice sounded like that ofMr. Dave. "Come, boy! Come, boy!" said the man in a coaxing tone, which recalledto Pasha the lessons he had learned at Gray Oaks years before. StillPasha sniffed and hesitated. "Come here, Pasha, old fellow. For God's sake, come here!" There was no resisting this appeal. Step by step Pasha went nearer. Hecontinued to tremble, for this man on the ground, although his voice wasthat of Mr. Dave, looked much different from the one who had taught himtricks. Besides, there was about him the scent of fresh blood. Pashacould see the stain of it on his blue trousers. "Come, boy. Come, Pasha, " insisted the man on the ground, holding out anencouraging hand. Slowly Pasha obeyed until he could sniff the man'sfingers. Another step and the man was smoothing his nose, still speakinggently and coaxingly in a faint voice. In the end Pasha was assured thatthe man was really the Mr. Dave of old, and glad enough Pasha was toknow it. "Now, Pasha, " said Mr. Dave, "we'll see if you've forgotten your tricks, and may the good Lord grant you haven't. Down, sir! Kneel, Pasha, kneel!" It had been a long time since Pasha had been asked to do this, a verylong time; but here was Mr. Dave asking him, in just the same tone asof old, and in just the same way. So Pasha, forgetting his terror underthe soothing spell of Mr. Dave's voice, forgetting the fearful sightsand sounds about him, remembering only that here was the Mr. Dave whomhe loved, asking him to do his old trick--well, Pasha knelt. "Easy now, boy; steady!" Pasha heard him say. Mr. Dave was dragginghimself along the ground to Pasha's side. "Steady now, Pasha; steady, boy!" He felt Mr. Dave's hand on the pommel. "So-o-o, boy; so-o-o-o!"Slowly, oh, so slowly, he felt Mr. Dave crawling into the saddle, andalthough Pasha's knees ached from the unfamiliar strain, he stirred nota muscle until he got the command, "Up, Pasha, up!" Then, with a trusted hand on the bridle-rein, Pasha joyfully boundedaway through the fog, until the battle-field was left behind. Of thelong ride that ensued only Pasha knows, for Mr. Dave kept his seat inthe saddle more by force of muscular habit than anything else. A man whohas learned to sleep on horseback does not easily fall off, even thoughhe has not the full command of his senses. Only for the first hour or sodid Pasha's rider do much toward guiding their course. Inhunting-horses, however, the sense of direction is strong. Pasha hadit--especially for one point of the compass. This point was south. So, unknowing of the possible peril into which he might be taking his rider, south he went. How Pasha ever did it, as I have said, only Pasha knows;but in the end he struck the Richmond Pike. It was a pleading whinny which aroused Miss Lou at early daybreak. Underher window she saw Pasha, and on his back a limp figure in a blue, dust-covered, dark-stained uniform. And that was how Pasha's cavalrycareer came to an end. That one fierce charge was his last. * * * * * In the Washington home of a certain Maine Congressman you may see, hungin a place of honor and lavishly framed, the picture of a horse. It isvery creditably done in oils, is this picture. It is of a cream-whitehorse, with an arched neck, clean, slim legs, and a splendid flowingtail. Should you have any favors of state to ask of this Maine Congressman itwould be the wise thing, before stating your request, to say somethingnice about the horse in the picture. Then the Congressman will probablysay, looking fondly at the picture: "I must tell Lou--er--my wife, youknow, what you have said. Yes, that was Pasha. He saved my neck atBrandy Station. He was one-half Arab, Pasha was, and the other half, sir, was human. " 392 Louisa de la Ramée (1839-1908), an English novelist, is generally known by her pseudonym "Ouida, " which was the result of a child's attempt to pronounce her first name. Her novels had strong popular qualities: intensely dramatic, with sentiment rather high-pitched and always verging on the sensational. The intense human interest is constantly present in her work and accounts for her great vogue. Two of her stories, "The Dog of Flanders" and "Moufflou, " have gained a permanent place in juvenile literature. They are popular among sixth, seventh, and eighth grade pupils. MOUFFLOU "OUIDA" Moufflou's masters were some boys and girls. They were very poor, butthey were very merry. They lived in an old, dark, tumble-down place, andtheir father had been dead five years; their mother's care was all theyknew; and Tasso was the eldest of them all, a lad of nearly twenty, andhe was so kind, so good, so laborious, so cheerful, so gentle, that thechildren all younger than he adored him. Tasso was a gardener. Tasso, however, though the eldest and mainly the bread-winner, was not so muchMoufflou's master as was little Romolo, who was only ten, and a cripple. Romolo, called generally Lolo, had taught Moufflou all he knew; and thatall was a very great deal, for nothing cleverer than was Moufflou hadever walked upon four legs. Why Moufflou? Well, when the poodle had been given to them by a soldier who was goingback to his home in Piedmont, he had been a white woolly creature a yearold, and the children's mother, who was a Corsican by birth, had saidthat he was just like a _moufflon_, as they call sheep in Corsica. Whiteand woolly this dog remained, and he became the handsomest and biggestpoodle in all the city, and the corruption of Moufflou from Moufflonremained the name by which he was known; it was silly, perhaps, but itsuited him and the children, and Moufflou he was. They lived in an old quarter of Florence, in that picturesque zigzagwhich goes round the grand church of Or San Michele, and which is almostmore Venetian than Tuscan in its mingling of color, charm, stateliness, popular confusion, and architectural majesty. The tall old houses areweather-beaten into the most delicious hues; the pavement isenchantingly encumbered with peddlers and stalls and all kinds of tradesgoing on in the open air, in that bright, merry, beautiful Italiancustom which, alas, alas! is being driven away by new-fangled laws whichdeem it better for the people to be stuffed up in close, stewing roomswithout air, and would fain do away with all the good-tempered politicsand the sensible philosophies and the wholesome chatter which theopen-street trades and street gossipry encourage, for it is good for thepopulace to _sfogare_ and in no other way can it do so one-half soinnocently. Drive it back into musty shops, and it is driven at once tomutter sedition. . . . But you want to hear about Moufflou. Well, Moufflou lived here in that high house with the sign of the lambin wrought iron, which shows it was once a warehouse of the old guild ofthe Arte della Lana. They are all old houses here, drawn round aboutthat grand church which I called once, and will call again, like amighty casket of oxidized silver. A mighty casket indeed, holding theHoly Spirit within it; and with the vermilion and the blue and theorange glowing in its niches and its lunettes like enamels, and itsstatues of the apostles strong and noble, like the times in which theywere created, --St. Peter with his keys, and St. Mark with his open book, and St. George leaning on his sword, and others also, solemn and austereas they, austere though benign, for do they not guard the WhiteTabernacle of Oreagna within? The church stands firm as a rock, square as a fortress of stone, and thewinds and the waters of the skies may beat about it as they will, theyhave no power to disturb its sublime repose. Sometimes I think of allthe noble things in all our Italy Or San Michele is the noblest, standing there in its stern magnificence, amidst people's hurrying feetand noisy laughter, a memory of God. The little masters of Moufflou lived right in its shadow, where thebridge of stone spans the space between the houses and the church highin mid-air; and little Lolo loved the church with a great love. He lovedit in the morning-time, when the sunbeams turned it into dusky gold andjasper; he loved it in the evening-time, when the lights of its altarsglimmered in the dark, and the scent of its incense came out into thestreet; he loved it in the great feasts, when the huge clusters oflilies were borne inside it; he loved it in the solemn nights of winter;the flickering gleam of the dull lamps shone on the robes of an apostle, or the sculpture of a shield, or the glow of a casement-moulding inmajolica. He loved it always, and, without knowing why, he called it _lamia chiesa_. Lolo, being lame and of delicate health, was not enabled to go to schoolor to work, though he wove the straw covering of wine-flasks and plaitedthe cane matting with busy fingers. But for the most part he did as heliked, and spent most of his time sitting on the parapet of Or SanMichele, watching the venders of earthenware at their trucks, ortrotting with his crutch (and he could trot a good many miles when hechose) out with Moufflou down a bit of the Stocking-makers' Street, along under the arcades of the Uffizi, and so over the Jewellers'Bridge, and out of byways that he knew into the fields on the hill-sideupon the other bank of Arno. Moufflou and he would spend half theday--all the day--out there in daffodil-time; and Lolo would come homewith great bundles and sheaves of golden flowers, and he and Moufflouwere happy. His mother never liked to say a harsh word to Lolo, for he was lamethrough her fault; she had let him fall in his babyhood, and themischief had been done to his hip never again to be undone. So she neverraised her voice to him, though she did often to the others, --tocurly-pated Cecco, and pretty black-eyed Dina, and saucy Bice, andsturdy Beppo, and even to the good, manly, hard-working Tasso. Tasso wasthe mainstay of the whole, though he was but a gardener's lad, workingin the green Cascine at small wages. But all he earned he brought hometo his mother; and he alone kept in order the lazy, high-temperedSandro, and he alone kept in check Bice's love of finery, and he alonecould with shrewdness and care make both ends meet and put _minestra_always in the pot and bread always in the cupboard. When his mother thought, as she thought indeed almost ceaselessly, thatwith a few months he would be of the age to draw his number, and mightdraw a high one and be taken from her for three years, the poor soulbelieved her very heart would burst and break; and many a day attwilight she would start out unperceived and creep into the great churchand pour her soul forth in supplication before the White Tabernacle. Yet, pray as she would, no miracle could happen to make Tasso free ofmilitary service: if he drew a fatal number, go he must, even though hetake all the lives of them to their ruin with him. One morning Lolo sat as usual on the parapet of the church, Mouffloubeside him. It was a brilliant morning in September. The men at thehand-barrows and at the stall were selling the crockery, the silkhandkerchiefs, and the straw hats which form the staple of the commercethat goes on round about Or San Michele, --very blithe, good-natured, gaycommerce, for the most part, not got through, however, of course, without bawling and screaming, and shouting and gesticulating, as if thesale of a penny pipkin or a twopenny pie-pan were the occasion for theexchange of many thousands of pounds sterling and cause for the wholeworld's commotion. It was about eleven o'clock; the poor petitionerswere going in for alms to the house of the fraternity of San GiovanniBattista; the barber at the corner was shaving a big man with a clothtucked about his chin, and his chair set well out on the pavement; thesellers of the pipkins and pie-pans were screaming till they werehoarse, "_Un soldo l'uno, due soldi tre!_" big bronze bells were boomingtill they seemed to clang right up to the deep-blue sky; some brethrenof the Misericordia went by bearing a black bier; a large sheaf ofglowing flowers--dahlias, zinnias, asters, and daturas--was bornethrough the huge arched door of the church near St. Mark and his openbook. Lolo looked on at it all, and so did Moufflou, and a strangerlooked at them as he left the church. "You have a handsome poodle there, my little man, " he said to Lolo, in aforeigner's too distinct and careful Italian. "Moufflou is beautiful, " said Lolo, with pride. "You should see him whenhe is just washed; but we can only wash him on Sundays, because thenTasso is at home. " "How old is your dog?" "Three years old. " "Does he do any tricks?" "Does he!" said Lolo, with a very derisive laugh: "why, Moufflou can doanything! He can walk on two legs ever so long; make ready, present, andfire; die; waltz; beg, of course; shut a door; make a wheelbarrow ofhimself; there is nothing he will not do. Would you like to see him dosomething?" "Very much, " said the foreigner. To Moufflou and to Lolo the street was the same thing as home; thischeery _piazzetta_ by the church, so utterly empty sometimes, andsometimes so noisy and crowded, was but the wider threshold of theirhome to both the poodle and the child. So there, under the lofty and stately walls of the old church, Lolo putMoufflou through his exercises. They were second nature to Moufflou, asto most poodles. He had inherited his address at them from cleverparents, and, as he had never been frightened or coerced, all hislessons and acquirements were but play to him. He acquitted himselfadmirably, and the crockery-venders came and looked on, and a sacristancame out of the church and smiled, and the barber left his customer'schin all in a lather while he laughed, for the good folk of the quarterwere all proud of Moufflou and never tired of him, and the pleasant, easy-going, good-humored disposition of the Tuscan populace is so farremoved from the stupid buckram and whale-bone in which the new-fangleddemocracy wants to imprison it. The stranger also was much diverted by Moufflou's talents, and said, half aloud, "How this clever dog would amuse poor Victor! Would youbring your poodle to please a sick child I have at home!" he said, quitealoud, to Lolo, who smiled and answered that he would. Where was thesick child? "At the Gran Bretagna; not far off, " said the gentleman. "Come thisafternoon, and ask for me by this name. " He dropped his card and a couple of francs into Lolo's hand, and wenthis way. Lolo, with Moufflou scampering after him, dashed into his ownhouse, and stumped up the stairs, his crutch making a terrible noise onthe stone. "Mother, mother! see what I have got because Moufflou did his tricks, "he shouted. "And now you can buy those shoes you want so much, and thecoffee that you miss so of a morning, and the new linen for Tasso, andthe shirts for Sandro. " For to the mind of Lolo two francs was as two millions, --sourceunfathomable of riches inexhaustible! With the afternoon he and Moufflou trotted down the arcades of theUffizi and down the Lung' Arno to the hotel of the stranger, and, showing the stranger's card, which Lolo could not read, they were shownat once into a great chamber, all gilding and fresco and velvetfurniture. But Lolo, being a little Florentine, was never troubled by externals, ordaunted by mere sofas and chairs: he stood and looked around him withperfect composure; and Moufflou, whose attitude, when he was notromping, was always one of magisterial gravity, sat on his haunches anddid the same. Soon the foreigner he had seen in the forenoon entered and spoke to him, and led him into another chamber, where stretched on a couch was alittle wan-faced boy about seven years old; a pretty boy, but so pallid, so wasted, so helpless. This poor little boy was heir to a great nameand a great fortune, but all the science in the world could not make himstrong enough to run about among the daisies, or able to draw a singlebreath without pain. A feeble smile lit up his face as he saw Moufflouand Lolo; then a shadow chased it away. "Little boy is lame like me, " he said, in a tongue Lolo did notunderstand. "Yes, but he is a strong little boy, and can move about, as perhaps thesuns of his country will make you do, " said the gentleman, who was thepoor little boy's father. "He has brought you his poodle to amuse you. What a handsome dog! is it not?" "Oh, _buffins_!" said the poor little fellow, stretching out his wastedhands to Moufflou, who submitted his leonine crest to the caress. Then Lolo went through the performance, and Moufflou acquitted himselfably as ever; and the little invalid laughed and shouted with his tinythin voice, and enjoyed it all immensely, and rained cakes and biscuitson both the poodle and its master. Lolo crumped the pastries withwilling white teeth, and Moufflou did no less. Then they got up to go, and the sick child on the couch burst into fretful lamentations andoutcries. "I want the dog! I will have the dog!" was all he kept repeating. But Lolo did not know what he said, and was only sorry to see him sounhappy. "You shall have the dog to-morrow, " said the gentleman, to pacify hislittle son; and he hurried Lolo and Moufflou out of the room, andconsigned them to a servant, having given Lolo five francs this time. "Why, Moufflou, " said Lolo, with a chuckle of delight, "if we could finda foreigner every day, we could eat meat at supper, Moufflou, and go tothe theatre every evening?" And he and his crutch clattered home with great eagerness andexcitement, and Moufflou trotted on his four frilled feet, the blue bowwith which Bice had tied up his curls on the top of his head, flutteringin the wind. But, alas! even his five francs could bring no comfort athome. He found his whole family wailing and mourning in utterlyinconsolable distress. Tasso had drawn his number that morning, and the number was seven, andhe must go and be a conscript for three years. The poor young man stood in the midst of his weeping brothers andsisters, with his mother leaning against his shoulder, and down his ownbrown cheeks the tears were falling. He must go, and lose his place inthe public gardens, and leave his people to starve as they might, and beput in a tomfool's jacket, and drafted off among cursing and swearingand strange faces, friendless, homeless, miserable! And themother, --what would become of the mother? Tasso was the best of lads and the mildest. He was quite happy sweepingup the leaves in the long alleys of the Cascine, or mowing the greenlawns under the ilex avenues, and coming home at supper-time, among themerry little people and the good woman that he loved. He was quitecontented; he wanted nothing, only to be let alone; and they would notlet him alone. They would haul him away to put a heavy musket in hishand and a heavy knapsack on his back, and drill him, and curse him, andmake him into a human target, a live popinjay. No one had any heed for Lolo and his five francs, and Moufflou, understanding that some great sorrow had fallen on his friends, sat downand lifted up his voice and howled. Tasso must go away!--that was all they understood. For three long yearsthey must go without the sight of his face, the aid of his strength, thepleasure of his smile: Tasso must go! When Lolo understood the calamitythat had befallen them, he gathered Moufflou up against his breast, andsat down too on the floor beside him and cried as if he would never stopcrying. There was no help for it; it was one of those misfortunes which are, aswe say in Italian, like a tile tumbled on the head. The tile drops froma height, and the poor head bows under the unseen blow. That is all. "What is the use of that?" said the mother, passionately, when Loloshowed her his five francs. "It will not buy Tasso's discharge. " Lolo felt that his mother was cruel and unjust, and crept to bed withMoufflou. Moufflou always slept on Lolo's feet. The next morning Lolo got up before sunrise, and he and Moufflouaccompanied Tasso to his work in the Cascine. Lolo loved his brother, and clung to every moment whilst they couldstill be together. "Can nothing keep you, Tasso?" he said, despairingly, as they went downthe leafy aisles, whilst the Arno water was growing golden as the sunrose. Tasso sighed. "Nothing, dear. Unless Gesu would send me a thousand francs to buy asubstitute. " And he knew he might as well have said, "If one could coin gold ducatsout of the sunbeams on Arno water. " Lolo was very sorrowful as he lay on the grass in the meadow where Tassowas at work, and the poodle lay stretched beside him. When Lolo went home to dinner (Tasso took his wrapped in a handkerchief)he found his mother very agitated and excited. She was laughing onemoment, crying the next. She was passionate and peevish, tender andjocose by turns; there was something forced and feverish about her whichthe children felt but did not comprehend. She was a woman of not verymuch intelligence, and she had a secret, and she carried it ill, andknew not what to do with it; but they could not tell that. They onlyfelt a vague sense of disturbance and timidity at her unwonted manner. The meal over (it was only bean-soup, and that is soon eaten), themother said sharply to Lolo, "Your aunt Anita wants you this afternoon. She has to go out, and you are needed to stay with the children: be offwith you. " Lolo was an obedient child; he took his hat and jumped up as quickly ashis halting hip would let him. He called Moufflou, who was asleep. "Leave the dog, " said his mother, sharply. "'Nita will not have himmessing and carrying mud about her nice clean rooms. She told me so. Leave him. I say. " "Leave Moufflou!" echoed Lolo, for never in all Moufflou's life had Loloparted from him. Leave Moufflou! He stared open-eyed and open-mouthed athis mother. What could have come to her? "Leave him, I say, " she repeated, more sharply than ever. "Must I speaktwice to my own children? Be off with you, and leave the dog, I say. " And she clutched Moufflou by his long silky mane and dragged himbackwards, whilst with the other hand she thrust out of the door Loloand Bice. Lolo began to hammer with his crutch at the door thus closed on him; butBice coaxed and entreated him. "Poor mother has been so worried about Tasso, " she pleaded. "And whatharm can come to Moufflou? And I do think he was tired, Lolo; theCascine is a long way; and it is quite true that Aunt 'Nita never likedhim. " So by one means and another she coaxed her brother away; and they wentalmost in silence to where their Aunt Anita dwelt, which was across theriver, near the dark-red bell-shaped dome of Santa Spirito. It was true that her aunt had wanted them to mind her room and herbabies whilst she was away carrying home some lace to a villa outsidethe Roman gate, for she was a lace-washer and clear-starcher by trade. There they had to stay in the little dark room with the two babies, withnothing to amuse the time except the clang of the bells of the church ofthe Holy Spirit, and the voices of the lemonade-sellers shouting in thestreet below. Aunt Anita did not get back till it was more than dusk, and the two children trotted homeward hand in hand, Lolo's leg draggingitself painfully along, for without Moufflou's white figure dancing onbefore him he felt very tired indeed. It was pitch dark when they got toOr San Michele, and the lamps burned dully. Lolo stumped up the stairs wearily, with a vague, dull fear at his smallheart. "Moufflou, Moufflou!" he called. Where was Moufflou? Always at the firstsound of his crutch the poodle came flying towards him. "Moufflou, Moufflou!" he called all the way up the long, dark twisting stone stair. He pushed open the door, and he called again, "Moufflou, Moufflou!" But no dog answered to his call. "Mother, where is Moufflou?" he asked, staring with blinking, dazzledeyes into the oil-lit room where his mother sat knitting. Tasso was notthen home from work. His mother went on with her knitting; there was anuneasy look on her face. "Mother, what have you done with Moufflou, _my_ Moufflou?" said Lolo, with a look that was almost stern on his ten-year-old face. Then his mother, without looking up and moving her knitting-needles veryrapidly, said, -- "Moufflou is sold!" And little Dina, who was a quick, pert child, cried, with a shrillvoice, -- "Mother has sold him for a thousand francs to the foreign gentleman. " "Sold him!" Lolo grew white and grew cold as ice; he stammered, threw up his handsover his head, gasped a little for breath, then fell down in a deadswoon, his poor useless limb doubled under him. When Tasso came home that sad night and found his little brothershivering, moaning, and half delirious, and when he heard what had beendone, he was sorely grieved. "Oh, mother, how could you do it?" he cried. "Poor, poor Moufflou! andLolo loves him so!" "I have got the money, " said his mother, feverishly, "and you will notneed to go for a soldier: we can buy your substitute. What is a poodle, that you mourn about it? We can get another poodle for Lolo. " "Another will not be Moufflou, " said Tasso, and yet was seized with sucha frantic happiness himself at the knowledge that he would not need goto the army, that he too felt as if he were drunk on new wine, and hadnot the heart to rebuke his mother. "A thousand francs!" he muttered; "a thousand francs! _Dio mio!_ Whocould ever have fancied anybody would have given such a price for acommon white poodle? One would think the gentleman had bought the churchand the tabernacle!" "Fools and their money are soon parted, " said his mother, with crosscontempt. It was true: she had sold Moufflou. The English gentleman had called on her while Lolo and the dog had beenin the Cascine, and had said that he was desirous of buying the poodle, which had so diverted his sick child that the little invalid would notbe comforted unless he possessed it. Now, at any other time the goodwoman would have sturdily refused any idea of selling Moufflou; but thatmorning the thousand francs which would buy Tasso's substitute wereforever in her mind and before her eyes. When she heard the foreignerher heart gave a great leap, and her head swam giddily, and she thought, in a spasm of longing--if she could get those thousand francs! Butthough she was so dizzy and so upset she retained her grip on her nativeFlorentine shrewdness. She said nothing of her need of the money; not asyllable of her sore distress. On the contrary, she was coy and wary, affected great reluctance to part with her pet, invented a great offermade for him by a director of a circus, and finally let fall a hint thatless than a thousand francs she could never take for poor Moufflou. The gentleman assented with so much willingness to the price that sheinstantly regretted not having asked double. He told her that if shewould take the poodle that afternoon to his hotel the money should bepaid to her; so she despatched her children after their noonday meal invarious directions, and herself took Moufflou to his doom. She could notbelieve her senses when ten hundred-franc notes were put into her hand. She scrawled her signature, Rosina Calabucci, to a formal receipt, andwent away, leaving Moufflou in his new owner's rooms, and hearing hishowls and moans pursue her all the way down the staircase and out intothe air. She was not easy at what she had done. "It seemed, " she said to herself, "like selling a Christian. " But then to keep her eldest son at home, --what a joy that was! On thewhole, she cried so and laughed so as she went down the Lung' Arno thatonce or twice people looked at her, thinking her out of her senses, anda guard spoke to her angrily. Meanwhile, Lolo was sick and delirious with grief. Twenty times he gotout of his bed and screamed to be allowed to go with Moufflou, andtwenty times his mother and his brothers put him back again and held himdown and tried in vain to quiet him. The child was beside himself with misery. "Moufflou! Moufflou!" hesobbed at every moment; and by night he was in a raging fever, and whenhis mother, frightened, ran in and called in the doctor of the quarter, that worthy shook his head and said something as to a shock of thenervous system, and muttered a long word, --"meningitis. " Lolo took a hatred to the sight of Tasso, and thrust him away, and hismother too. "It is for you Moufflou is sold, " he said, with his little teeth andhands tight clinched. After a day or two Tasso felt as if he could not bear his life, and wentdown to the hotel to see if the foreign gentleman would allow him tohave Moufflou back for half an hour to quiet his little brother by asight of him. But at the hotel he was told that the _Milord Inglese_ whohad bought the dog of Rosina Calabucci had gone that same night of thepurchase to Rome, to Naples, to Palermo, _chi sa_? "And Moufflou with him?" asked Tasso. "The _barbone_ he had bought went with him, " said the porter of thehotel. "Such a beast! Howling, shrieking, raging all the day, and allthe paint scratched off the _salon_ door. " Poor Moufflou! Tasso's heart was heavy as he heard of that sad helplessmisery of their bartered favorite and friend. "What matter?" said his mother, fiercely, when he told her. "A dog is adog. They will feed him better than we could. In a week he will haveforgotten--_che!_" But Tasso feared that Moufflou would not forget. Lolo certainly wouldnot. The doctor came to the bedside twice a day, and ice and water werekept on the aching hot little head that had got the malady with the longname, and for the chief part of the time Lolo lay quiet, dull, andstupid, breathing heavily, and then at intervals cried and sobbed andshrieked hysterically for Moufflou. "Can you not get what he calls for to quiet him with a sight of it?"said the doctor. But that was not possible, and poor Rosina covered herhead with her apron and felt a guilty creature. "Still, you will not go to the army, " she said to Tasso. Clinging tothat immense joy for her consolation. "Only think! we can pay GuidoSquarcione to go for you. He always said he would go if anybody wouldpay him. Oh, my Tasso, surely to keep you is worth a dog's life!" "And Lolo's?" said Tasso, gloomily. "Nay, mother, it works ill to meddletoo much with fate. I drew my number; I was bound to go. Heaven wouldhave made it up to you somehow. " "Heaven sent me the foreigner; the Madonna's own self sent him to ease amother's pain, " said Rosina, rapidly and angrily. "There are thethousand francs safe to hand in the _cassone_, and what, pray, is it wemiss? Only a dog like a sheep, that brought gallons of mud in with himevery time it rained, and ate as much as any one of you. " "But Lolo?" said Tasso, under his breath. His mother was so irritated and so tormented by her own conscience thatshe upset all the cabbage broth into the burning charcoal. "Lolo was always a little fool, thinking of nothing but the church andthe dog and nasty field-flowers, " she said, angrily. "I humored him evertoo much because of the hurt to his hip, and so--and so--" Then the poor soul made matters worse by dropping her tears into thesaucepan, and fanning the charcoal so furiously that the flame caughther fan of cane-leaves, and would have burned her arm had not Tasso beenthere. "You are my prop and safety always. Who would not have done what I did?Not Santa Felicita herself, " she said, with a great sob. But all this did not cure poor Lolo. The days and the weeks of the golden autumn weather passed away, and hewas always in danger, and the small close room where he slept withSandro and Beppo and Tasso was not one to cure such an illness as hadnow beset him. Tasso went to his work with a sick heart in the Cascine, where the colchicum was all lilac among the meadow grass, and the ashesand elms were taking their first flush of the coming autumnal change. Hedid not think Lolo would ever get well, and the good lad felt as if hehad been the murderer of his little brother. True, he had had no hand or voice in the sale of Moufflou, but Moufflouhad been sold for his sake. It made him feel half guilty, very unhappy, quite unworthy of all the sacrifice that had been made for him. "Nobodyshould meddle with fate, " thought Tasso, who knew his grandfather haddied in San Bonifazio because he had driven himself mad over thedream-book trying to get lucky numbers for the lottery and become a richman at a stroke. It was rapture, indeed, to know that he was free of the army for a timeat least, that he might go on undisturbed at his healthful labor, andget a rise in wages as time went on, and dwell in peace with his family, and perhaps--perhaps in time earn enough to marry pretty flaxen-hairedBiondina, the daughter of the barber in the piazzetta. It was raptureindeed; but then poor Moufflou!--and poor, poor Lolo! Tasso felt as ifhe had bought his own exemption by seeing his little brother and thegood dog torn in pieces and buried alive for his service. And where was poor Moufflou? Gone far away somewhere south in the hurrying, screeching, vomiting, braying train it made Tasso giddy only to look at as it rushed by thegreen meadows beyond the Cascine on its way to the sea. "If he could see the dog he cries so for, it might save him, " said thedoctor, who stood with grave face watching Lolo. But that was beyond any one's power. No one could tell where Moufflouwas. He might be carried away to England, to France, to Russia, toAmerica, --who could say? They did not know where his purchaser had gone. Moufflou even might be dead. The poor mother, when the doctor said that, went and looked at the tenhundred-franc notes that were once like angels' faces to her, and saidto them, -- "Oh, you children of Satan, why did you tempt me? I sold the poor, innocent, trustful beast to get you, and now my child is dying!" Her eldest son would stay at home, indeed; but if this little lame onedied! Rosina Calabucci would have given up the notes and consented neverto own five francs in her life if only she could have gone back over thetime and kept Moufflou, and seen his little master running out with himinto the sunshine. More than a month went by, and Lolo lay in the same state, his yellowhair shorn, his eyes dilated and yet stupid, life kept in him by aspoonful of milk, a lump of ice, a drink of lemon-water; alwaysmuttering, when he spoke at all, "Moufflou, Moufflou, _dov' e_Moufflou?" and lying for days together in somnolence andunconsciousness, with the fire eating at his brain and the weight lyingon it like a stone. The neighbors were kind, and brought fruit and the like, and sat up withhim, and chattered so all at once in one continuous brawl that they wereenough in themselves to kill him, for such is ever the Italian fashionof sympathy in all illness. But Lolo did not get well, did not even seem to see the light at all, orto distinguish any sounds around him; and the doctor in plain words toldRosina Calabucci that her little boy must die. Die, and the church sonear! She could not believe it. Could St. Mark, and St. George, and therest that he had loved so do nothing for him? No, said the doctor, theycould do nothing; the dog might do something, since the brain had sofastened on that one idea; but then they had sold the dog. "Yes; I sold him!" said the poor mother, breaking into floods ofremorseful tears. So at last the end drew so nigh that one twilight time the priest cameout of the great arched door that is next it. Mark, with the Hostuplifted, and a little acolyte ringing the bell before it, and passedacross the piazzetta, and went up the dark staircase of Rosina'sdwelling, and passed through the weeping, terrified children, and wentto the bedside of Lolo. Lolo was unconscious, but the holy man touched his little body and limbswith the sacred oil, and prayed over him, and then stood sorrowful withbowed head. Lolo had had his first communion in the summer, and in his preparationfor it had shown an intelligence and devoutness that had won thepriest's gentle heart. Standing there, the holy man commended the innocent soul to God. It wasthe last service to be rendered to him save that very last of all whenthe funeral office should be read above his little grave among themillions of nameless dead at the sepulchres of the poor at Trebbiano. All was still as the priest's voice ceased; only the sobs of the motherand of the children broke the stillness as they kneeled; the hand ofBiondina had stolen into Tasso's. Suddenly, there was a loud scuffling noise; hurrying feet came patter, patter, patter up the stairs, a ball of mud and dust flew over the headsof the kneeling figures, fleet as the wind Moufflou dashed through theroom and leaped upon the bed. Lolo opened his heavy eyes, and a sudden light of consciousness gleamedin them like a sunbeam. "Moufflou!" he murmured, in his little thinfaint voice. The dog pressed close to his breast and kissed his wastedface. Moufflou was come home! And Lolo came home too, for death let go its hold upon him. Little bylittle, very faintly and flickeringly and very uncertainly at the first, life returned to the poor little body, and reason to the tormented, heated little brain. Moufflou was his physician; Moufflou, who, himselfa skeleton under his matted curls, would not stir from his side andlooked at him all day long with two beaming brown eyes full ofunutterable love. Lolo was happy; he asked no questions, --was too weak, indeed, even towonder. He had Moufflou; that was enough. Alas! though they dared not say so in his hearing, it was not enough forhis elders. His mother and Tasso knew that the poodle had been sold andpaid for; that they could lay no claim to keep him; and that almostcertainly his purchaser would seek him out and assert his indisputableright to him. And then how would Lolo ever bear that secondparting?--Lolo, so weak that he weighed no more than if he had been alittle bird. Moufflou had, no doubt, traveled a long distance and suffered much. Hewas but skin and bone; he bore the marks of blows and kicks; his oncesilken hair was all discolored and matted; he had, no doubt, traveledfar. But then his purchaser would be sure to ask for him, soon or late, at his old home; and then? Well, then if they did not give him upthemselves, the law would make them. Rosina Calabucci and Tasso, though they dared say nothing before any ofthe children, felt their hearts in their mouths at every step on thestair, and the first interrogation of Tasso every evening when he camefrom his work was, "Has any one come for Moufflou?" For ten days no onecame, and their first terrors lulled a little. On the eleventh morning, a feast-day, on which Tasso was not going tohis labors in the Cascine, there came a person, with a foreign look, whosaid the words they so much dreaded to hear: "Has the poodle that yousold to an English gentleman come back to you?" Yes: his English master claimed him! The servant said that they had missed the dog in Rome a few days afterbuying him and taking him there; that he had been searched for in vain, and that his master had thought it possible the animal might have foundhis way back to his old home: there had been stories of such wonderfulsagacity in dogs: anyhow, he had sent for him on the chance; he washimself back on the Lung' Arno. The servant pulled from his pocket achain, and said his orders were to take the poodle away at once: thelittle sick gentleman had fretted very much about his loss. Tasso heard in a very agony of despair. To take Moufflou away now wouldbe to kill Lolo, --Lolo so feeble still, so unable to understand, sopassionately alive to every sight and sound of Moufflou, lying for hourstogether motionless with his hand buried in the poodle's curls, sayingnothing, only smiling now and then, and murmuring a word or two inMoufflou's ear. "The dog did come home, " said Tasso, at length, in a low voice; "angelsmust have shown him the road, poor beast! From Rome! Only to think ofit, from Rome! And he a dumb thing! I tell you he is here, honestly: sowill you not trust me just so far as this? Will you let me go with youand speak to the English lord before you take the dog away? I have alittle brother sorely ill--" He could not speak more, for tears that choked his voice. At last the messenger agreed so far as this: Tasso might go first andsee the master, but he would stay here and have a care they did notspirit the dog away, --"for a thousand francs were paid for him, " addedthe man, "and a dog that can come all the way from Rome by itself mustbe an uncanny creature. " Tasso thanked him, went up-stairs, was thankful that his mother was atmass and could not dispute with him, took the ten hundred-franc notesfrom the old oak _cassone_, and with them in his breast-pocket walkedout into the air. He was but a poor working lad, but he had made up hismind to do an heroic act. He went straightway to the hotel where theEnglish _milord_ was, and when he had got there remembered that still hedid not know the name of Moufflou's owner; but the people of the hotelknew him as Rosina Calabucci's son, and guessed what he wanted, and saidthe gentleman who had lost the poodle was within, up-stairs, and theywould tell him. Tasso waited some half-hour with his heart beating sorely against thepacket of hundred-franc notes. At last he was beckoned up-stairs, andthere he saw a foreigner with a mild fair face, and a very lovely lady, and a delicate child who was lying on a couch. "Moufflou! Where isMoufflou?" cried the little child, impatiently, as he saw the youthenter. Tasso took his hat off, and stood in the door-way an embrowned, healthy, not ungraceful figure, in his working-clothes of rough blue stuff. "If you please, most illustrious, " he stammered, "poor Moufflou has comehome. " The child gave a cry of delight; the gentleman and lady one of wonder. Come home! All the way from Rome! "Yes, he has, most illustrious, " said Tasso, gaining courage andeloquence; "and now I want to beg something of you. We are poor, and Idrew a bad number, and it was for that my mother sold Moufflou. Formyself, I did not know anything of it; but she thought she would buy mysubstitute, and of course she could; but Moufflou is come home, and mylittle brother Lolo, the little boy your most illustrious first sawplaying with the poodle, fell ill of the grief of losing Moufflou, andfor a month has lain saying nothing sensible, but only calling for thedog, and my old grandfather died of worrying himself mad over thelottery numbers, and Lolo was so near dying that the Blessed Host hadbeen brought, and the holy oil had been put on him, when all at oncethere rushes in Moufflou, skin and bone, and covered with mud, and atthe sight of him Lolo comes back to his senses, and that is now ten daysago, and though Lolo is still as weak as a new-born thing, he is alwayssensible, and takes what we give him to eat, and lies always looking atMoufflou, and smiling, and saying, 'Moufflou! Moufflou!' and, mostillustrious, I know well you have bought the dog, and the law is withyou, and by the law you claim it, but I thought perhaps, as Lolo loveshim so, you would let us keep the dog, and would take back the thousandfrancs, and myself I will go and be a soldier, and heaven will take careof them all somehow. " Then Tasso, having said all this in one breathless, monotonousrecitative, took the thousand francs out of his breast-pocket and heldthem out timidly towards the foreign gentleman, who motioned them asideand stood silent. "Did you understand, Victor?" he said, at last, to his little son. The child hid his face in his cushions. "Yes, I did understand something: let Lolo keep him; Moufflou was nothappy with me. " But he burst out crying as he said it. Moufflou had run away from him. Moufflou had never loved him, for all his sweet cakes and fond caressesand platefuls of delicate savory meats. Moufflou had run away and foundhis own road over two hundred miles and more to go back to some littlehungry children, who never had enough to eat themselves and so, certainly, could never give enough to eat to the dog. Poor little boy!He was so rich and so pampered and so powerful, and yet he could nevermake Moufflou love him! Tasso, who understood nothing that was said, laid the ten hundred-francnotes down on a table near him. "If you would take them, most illustrious, and give me back what mymother wrote when she sold Moufflou, " he said, timidly, "I would prayfor you night and day, and Lolo would too; and as for the dog, we willget a puppy and train him for your little _signorino_; they can all dotricks, more or less, it comes by nature; and as for me, I will go tothe army willingly; it is not right to interfere with fate; my oldgrandfather died mad because he would try to be a rich man, by dreamingabout it and pulling destiny by the ears, as if she were a kicking mule;only, I do pray of you, do not take away Moufflou. And to think hetrotted all those miles and miles, and you carried him by train too, andhe never could have seen the road, and he had no power of speech toask--" Tasso broke down again in his eloquence, and drew the back of his handacross his wet eyelashes. The English gentleman was not altogether unmoved. "Poor faithful dog!" he said, with a sigh. "I am afraid we were verycruel to him, meaning to be kind. No; we will not claim him, and I donot think you should go for a soldier; you seem so good a lad, and yourmother must need you. Keep the money, my boy, and in payment you shalltrain up the puppy you talk of, and bring him to my little boy. I willcome and see your mother and Lolo to-morrow. All the way from Rome! Whatwonderful sagacity! what matchless fidelity!" You can imagine, without any telling of mine, the joy that reigned inMoufflou's home when Tasso returned thither with the money and the goodtidings both. His substitute was bought without a day's delay, and Lolorapidly recovered. As for Moufflou, he could never tell them histroubles, his wanderings, his difficulties, his perils; he could nevertell them by what miraculous knowledge he had found his way acrossItaly, from the gates of Rome to the gates of Florence. But he soon grewplump again, and merry, and his love for Lolo was yet greater thanbefore. By the winter all the family went to live on an estate near Spezia thatthe English gentleman had purchased, and there Moufflou was happier thanever. The little English boy is gaining strength in the soft air, and heand Lolo are great friends, and play with Moufflou and the poodle puppyhalf the day upon the sunny terraces and under the green orange boughs. Tasso is one of the gardeners there; he will have to serve as a soldierprobably in some category or another, but he is safe for the time, andis happy. Lolo, whose lameness will always exempt him from militaryservice, when he grows to be a man means to be a florist, and a greatone. He has learned to read, as the first step on the road of hisambition. "But oh, Moufflou, how _did_ you find your way home?" he asks the dog ahundred times a week. How indeed! No one ever knew how Moufflou had made that long journey on foot, somany weary miles; but beyond a doubt he had done it alone and unaided, for if any one had helped him they would have come home with him toclaim the reward. 393 Olive Thorne Miller (1831-1918) is remembered in the history of American juvenile literature as a writer on birds. Her purpose was to show truly the characteristics and habits of the "little brothers of the air. " The following selection illustrates the style of much of her work. Some of her books that may appropriately be used as literature in the third, fourth, or fifth grade are _The Children's Book of Birds_, _Little Brothers of the Air_, _Little Folks in Feathers and Fur_, and _Four Handed Folk_. (The selection that follows is from the first-named book, and is used by permission of and by special arrangement with the publishers, The Houghton Mifflin Co. , Boston. ) BIRD HABITS OLIVE THORNE MILLER I. WHERE HE SLEEPS Most birds sleep on their feet. You know how a canary goes to sleep, all puffed out like a ball, withhis head buried in the feathers of his shoulder. He may stick his billover behind the top of the wing, but he never "puts his head under hiswing, " as you have heard. Sometimes he stands straight up on one leg, with the other drawn up outof sight in his feathers, but more often he sits down on the perch, still resting on his feet. Most wild birds of the perching kind sleep inthe same way. It is only lately that we have begun to find out where birds sleep, because it is dark when they go to bed, and they get up before it islight enough for us to see them. The only way to catch them in bed is to go out in the evening, and startthem up after they have gone to sleep. And this is not very kind to thepoor little birds. Some men who are trying to learn about the habits ofbirds have tried this way, and so have found out some of theirsleeping-places. One thing they have learned is that the nest is not often used for abed, except for the mother while she is sitting and keeping her littleones warm. Robins and orioles, and others, creep into the thick branches of anevergreen tree, close up to the trunk. Some crawl under the edge of ahaystack, others into thick vines or thorny bushes. All these are meantfor hiding-places, so that beasts that prowl about at night, and like toeat birds, will not find them. Tree sparrows like to sleep in holes in the ground like little caves. The men who found these cosy little bedrooms think they are places dugout by field mice, and other small animals, for their own use. And whenthey are left, the birds are glad to take them. When the weather is cold, some birds sleep under the snow. You may thinkthat would not be very warm, and it is not so warm as a bed in the housewith plenty of blankets. But it is much warmer than a perch in a tree, with nothing but leaves to keep off the wind. While the snow is falling, some birds find it as good as blankets fortheir use. Grouse, who live on the ground, dive into a snow-bank andsnuggle down quietly, while the snow falls and covers them all over andkeeps the cold wind off. Air comes through the snow, so they do notsmother. Some birds creep into a pile of brush that is covered with snow, andfind under the twigs little places like tents, where the snow has beenkept out by the twigs, and they sleep there, away from the wind andstorm outside. Water birds find the best sleeping-places on the water, where they floatall night like tiny boats. Some of them leave one foot hanging down andpaddling a little, while they sleep, to keep from being washed to theshore. Bob-white and his family sleep in a close circle on the ground, all withtheir heads turned outward, so that they can see or hear an enemy, whichever way he comes. Hawks and eagles are said to sleep standing, never sitting on the feetlike a canary. Some ducks and geese do even more: they sleep standing onone foot. Woodpeckers and chimney swifts hang themselves up by theirclaws, using their stiff tail for a brace, as if it were a third leg. Some birds, like the crows, sleep in great flocks. They agree upon apiece of woods, and all the crows for miles around come there everynight. Sometimes thousands of them sleep in this one bedroom, called acrow roost. Robins do the same, after the young are big enough to fly sofar. Audubon, who has told us so much about birds, once found a hollow treewhich was the sleeping-room of chimney swifts. The noise they made goingout in the morning was like the roar of a great mill-wheel. He wanted to see the birds asleep. So in the daytime, when they wereaway, he had a piece cut out at the foot of the tree, big enough to lethim in, and then put back, so the birds would not notice anythingunusual. At night, after the swifts were abed, he took a dark lantern and wentin. He turned the light upon them little by little, so as not to startlethem. Then he saw the whole inside of the tree full of birds. They werehanging by their claws, side by side, as thick as they could hang. Hethought there were as many as twelve thousand in that one bedroom. II. HIS TRAVELS Most of our birds take two long journeys every year, one in the fall tothe south, and the other in the spring back to the north. These journeysare called "migrations. " The birds do not go all at once, but in many cases those of a kind wholive near each other collect in a flock and travel together. Eachspecies or kind has its own time to go. It might be thought that it is because of the cold that so many birdsmove to a warmer climate. But it is not so; they are very well dressedto endure cold. Their feather suits are so warm that some of oursmallest and weakest birds are able to stay with us, like the chickadeeand the golden-crowned kinglet. It is simply because they cannot getfood in winter, that they have to go. The fall travel begins soon after the first of July. The bobolink is oneof the first to leave us, though he does not start at once on his longjourney. By that time his little folk are full grown, and can take careof themselves, and he is getting on his winter suit, or moulting. Then some morning all the bobolinks in the country are turned out oftheir homes in the meadows, by men and horses and mowing machines, forat that time the long grass is ready to cut. Then he begins to think about the wild rice that is getting just rightto eat. Besides, he likes to take his long journey to South America inan easy way, stopping here and there as he goes. So some morning we misshis cheerful call, and if we go to the meadow we shall not be able tosee a single bobolink. There, too, are the swallows, who eat only small flying insects. As theweather grows cooler, these tiny flies are no longer to be found. So theswallows begin to flock, as it is called. For a few days they will beseen on fences and telegraph wires, chattering and making a great noise, and then some morning they will all be gone. They spend some time in marshes and lonely places before they at lastset out for the south. As the days grow shorter and cooler, the warblers go. These are thebright-colored little fellows, who live mostly in the tops of trees. Then the orioles and the thrushes and the cuckoos leave us, and mostbirds who live on insects. By the time that November comes in, few of them will be left. Birds whocan live on seeds and winter berries, such as cedar-berries andpartridge-berries, and others, often stay with us, --bluebirds, finches, and sometimes robins. Many birds take their journey by night. Think of it! Tiny creatures, that all summer go to bed at dark, start off some night, when it seemsas if they ought to be asleep, and fly all night in the dark. When it grows light, they stop in some place where they can feed andrest. And the next night, or two or three nights later, they go onagain. So they do until they reach their winter home, hundreds orthousands of miles away. These night flyers are the timid birds, and those who live in the woodsand do not like to be seen, --thrushes, wrens, vireos, and others. Birdswith strong wings, who are used to flying hours every day, and bolderbirds, who do not mind being seen, take their journey by daylight. Most of them stop now and then, a day or two at a time, to feed andrest. They fly very high, and faster than our railroad trains can go. In the spring the birds take their second long journey, back to theirlast year's home. How they knew their way on these journeys, men have been for many yearstrying to find out. They have found that birds travel on regular roads, or routes, that follow the rivers and the shore of the ocean. They cansee much better than we can, and even in the night they can see water. One such road, or highway, is over the harbor of New York. When thestatue of Liberty was set up on an island in the harbor a few years ago, it was put in the birds' path. Usually they fly too high to mind it; but when there is a rain or fogthey come much lower, and, sad to say, many of them fly against it andare killed. We often see strange birds in our city streets and parks, while they arepassing through on their migration, for they sometimes spend severaldays with us. 394 Ernest Thompson Seton (1860--) was born in England, but has lived most of his life in America. He began his career as an artist. He made more than 1, 000 drawings of birds and animals for the _Century Dictionary_. Later he began to write about animals and has achieved unusual success in that field. His _Wild Animals at Home_, _Wild Animal Ways_, _The Biography of a Grizzly_, and _Wild Animals I Have Known_ are all greatly enjoyed by young people. ("The Poacher and the Silver Fox" is taken from the first-mentioned book, by permission of the publishers, Doubleday, Page & Co. , Garden City, New York. ) THE POACHER AND THE SILVER FOX ERNEST THOMPSON SETON How is it that all mankind has a sneaking sympathy with a poacher? Aburglar or a pickpocket has our unmitigated contempt; he clearly is acriminal; but you will notice that the poacher in the story isgenerally a reckless daredevil with a large and compensatory amount ofgood-fellow in his make-up--yes, I almost said, of good citizenship. Isuppose, because in addition to the breezy, romantic character of hiscalling, seasoned with physical danger as well as moral risk, there isaway down in human nature a strong feeling that, in spite of man-madelaws, the ancient ruling holds that "wild game belongs to no man tillsome one makes it his property by capture. " It may be wrong, it may beright, but I have heard this doctrine voiced by red men and white, asprimitive law, once or twice; and have seen it lived up to a thousandtimes. Well, Josh Cree was a poacher. This does not mean that every night inevery month he went forth with nefarious tricks and tools, to steal theflesh and fur that legally were not his. Far from it. Josh never poachedbut once. But that's enough; he had crossed the line, and this is how itcame about: As you roll up the Yellowstone from Livingston to Gardiner you may notea little ranch-house on the west of the track with its log stables, itscorral, its irrigation ditch, and its alfalfa patch of morbid green. Itis a small affair, for it was founded by the handiwork of one honestman, who with his wife and small boy left Pennsylvania, braved everydanger of the plains, and secured this claim in the late '80's. Old manCree--he was only forty, but every married man is "Old Man" in theWest--was ready to work at any honest calling from logging or sluicingto grading and muling. He was strong and steady, his wife was steady andstrong. They saved their money, and little by little they got the smallranch-house built and equipped; little by little they added to theirstock on the range with the cattle of a neighbour, until there came thehappy day when they went to live on their own ranch--father, mother, andfourteen-year-old Josh, with every prospect of making it pay. Thespreading of that white tablecloth for the first time was a realreligious ceremony, and the hard workers gave thanks to the All-fatherfor His blessing on their every effort. One year afterward a new event brought joy: there entered happily intotheir happy house a little girl, and all the prairie smiled about them. Surely their boat was well beyond the breakers. But right in the sunshine of their joy the trouble cloud arose to blockthe sky. Old man Cree was missing one day. His son rode long and far onthe range for two hard days before he sighted a grazing pony, and down arocky hollow near, found his father, battered and weak, near death, witha broken leg and a gash in his head. He could only gasp "Water" as Josh hurried up, and the boy rushed off tofill his hat at the nearest stream. They had no talk, for the father swooned after drinking, and Josh had toface the situation; but he was Western trained. He stripped himself ofall spare clothing, and his father's horse of its saddle blanket; then, straightening out the sick man, he wrapped him in the clothes andblanket, and rode like mad for the nearest ranch-house. The neighbour, ayoung man, came at once, with a pot to make tea, an axe, and a rope. They found the older Cree conscious but despairing. A fire was made, andhot tea revived him. Then Josh cut two long poles from the nearesttimber and made a stretcher, or travois, Indian fashion, the upper endsfast to the saddle of a horse, while the other ends trailed on theground. Thus by a long, slow journey the wounded man got back. All hehad prayed for was to get home. Every invalid is sure that if only hecan get home all will soon be well. Mother was not yet strong, the babyneeded much care, but Josh was a good boy, and the loving best of allwas done for the sick one. His leg, set by the army surgeon of FortYellowstone, was knit again after a month, but had no power. He had noforce; the shock of those two dire days was on him. The second monthwent by, and still he lay in bed. Poor Josh was the man of the placenow, and between duties, indoors and out, he was worn body and soul. Then it was clear they must have help. So Jack S---- was engaged at theregular wages of $40 a month for outside work, and a year of strugglewent by, only to see John Cree in his grave, his cattle nearly all gone, his widow and boy living in a house on which was still $500 of theoriginal mortgage. Josh was a brave boy and growing strong, butunboyishly grave with the weight of care. He sold off the few cattlethat were left, and set about keeping the roof over his mother and babysister by working a truck farm for the market supplied by the summerhotels of the Park, and managed to come out even. He would in time havedone well, but he could not get far enough ahead to meet that 10 percent mortgage already overdue. The banker was not a hard man, but he was in the business for thebusiness. He extended the time, and waited for interest again and again, but it only made the principal larger, and it seemed that the last ditchwas reached, that it would be best to let the money-man foreclose, though that must mean a wipe-out and would leave the fatherless familyhomeless. Winter was coming on, work was scarce, and Josh went to Gardiner to seewhat he could get in the way of house or wage. He learned of a chance to'substitute' for the Park mail-carrier, who had sprained his foot. Itwas an easy drive to Fort Yellowstone, and there he readily agreed, whenthey asked him, to take the letters and packages and go on farther tothe Canyon Hotel. Thus it was that on the 20th day of November 189-, Josh Cree, sixteen years old, tall and ruddy, rode through the snow tothe kitchen door of the Canyon Hotel and was welcomed as though he wereold Santa Claus himself. Two Magpies on a tree were among the onlookers. The Park Bears weredenned up, but there were other fur-bearers about. High on the wood-pilesat a Yellow Red Fox in a magnificent coat. Another was in front of thehouse, and the keeper said that as many as a dozen came some days. Andsometimes, he said, there also came a wonderful Silver Fox, a sizebigger than the rest, black as coal, with eyes like yellow diamonds, anda silver frosting like little stars on his midnight fur. "My! but he's a beauty. That skin would buy the best team of mules onthe Yellowstone. " That was interesting and furnished talk for a while. In the morning when they were rising for their candlelight breakfast, the hotel man glancing from the window exclaimed, "Here he is now!" andJosh peered forth to see in the light of sunrise something he had oftenheard of, but never before seen, a coal-black Fox, a giant among hiskind. How slick and elegant his glossy fur, how slim his legs, and whata monstrous bushy tail; and the other Foxes moved aside as the patricianrushed in impatient haste to seize the food thrown out by the cook. "Ain't he a beauty?" said the hotel man. "I'll bet that pelt would fetchfive hundred. " Oh, why did he say "five hundred, " the exact sum, for then it was thatthe tempter entered into Josh Cree's heart. Five hundred dollars! justthe amount of the mortgage. "Who owns wild beasts? The man that killsthem, " said the tempter, and the thought was a live one in his breast asJosh rode back to Fort Yellowstone. At Gardiner he received his pay, $6. 00, for three days' work and, turning it into groceries, set out for the poor home that soon would belost to him, and as he rode he did some hard and gloomy thinking. On hiswrist there hung a wonderful Indian quirt of plaited rawhide andhorsehair with beads on the shaft, and a band of Elk teeth on the butt. It was a pet of his, and "good medicine, " for a flat piece of elkhornlet in the middle was perforated with a hole, through which the distantlandscape was seen much clearer--a well-known law, an ancient trick, butit made the quirt prized as a thing of rare virtue, and Josh had refusedgood offers for it. Then a figure afoot was seen, and coming nearer, itturned out to be a friend, Jack Day, out a-gunning with a . 22 rifle. Butgame was scarce and Jack was returning to Gardiner empty-handed anddisgusted. They stopped for a moment's greeting when Day said: "Huntin'splayed out now. How'll you swap that quirt for my rifle?" A month beforeJosh would have scorned the offer. A ten-dollar quirt for a five-dollarrifle, but now he said briefly: "For rifle with cover, tools andammunition complete, I'll go ye. " So the deal was made and in an hourJosh was home. He stabled Grizzle, the last of their saddle stock, andentered. Love and sorrow dwelt in the widow's home, but the return of Joshbrought its measure of joy. Mother prepared the regular meal of tea, potatoes, and salt pork; there was a time when they had soared as highas canned goods, but those prosperous days were gone. Josh was dandlingbaby sister on his lap as he told of his trip, and he learned of twothings of interest: First, the bank must have its money by February;second, the stable at Gardiner wanted a driver for the Cook City stage. Then the little events moved quickly. His half-formed plan of gettingback to the Canyon was now frustrated by the new opening, and, besidesthis, hope had been dampened by the casual word of one who reported that"that Silver Fox had not been seen since at the Canyon. " Then began long days of dreary driving through the snow, with a noonhalt at Yancey's and then three days later the return, in the cold, thebiting cold. It was freezing work, but coldest of all was the chillthought at his heart that February 1st would see him homeless. Small bands of Mountain Sheep he saw at times on the slope of Evarts, and a few Blacktail, and later, when the winter deepened, huge bull Elkwere seen along the trail. Sometimes they moved not more than a fewpaces to let him pass. These were everyday things to him, but in thesecond week of his winter work he got a sudden thrill. He was comingdown the long hill back of Yancey's when what should he see there, sitting on its tail, shiny black with yellow eyes like a huge black catunusually long and sharp in the nose, but a wonderful Silver Fox!Possibly the same as the one he saw at the Canyon, for that one he knewhad disappeared and there were not likely to be two in the Park. Yes, itmight be the same, and Josh's bosom surged with mingled feelings. Whydid he not carry that little gun? Why did he not realize? were thethoughts that came--$500! A noble chance! broad daylight onlytwenty-five yards! and gone! The Fox was still there when Josh drove on. On the next trip he broughtthe little rifle. He had sawed off the stock so he could hide it easilyin his overcoat if need be. No man knew that he carried arms, but theFoxes seemed to know. The Red ones kept afar and the Black one came nomore. Day after day he drove and hoped but the Black Fox has cunningmeasured to his value. He came not, or if he came, was wisely hidden, and so the month went by, till late in the cold Moon of Snow he heardold Yancey say, "There's a Silver Fox bin a-hanging around the stablethis last week. Leastwise Dave says he seen him. " There were soldierssitting around that stove, game guardians of the Park, and still moredangerous, a scout, the soldiers' guide, a mountaineer. Josh turned notan inch, he made no sound in response, but his heart gave a jump. Halfan hour later he went out to bed his horses for the night, and peeringaround the stable he saw a couple of shadowy forms that silently shifteduntil swallowed by the gloom. Then the soldiers came to bed their horses, and Josh went back to thestove. His big driving coat hung with the little sawed-off rifle in thelong pocket. He waited till the soldiers one by one went up the ladderto the general bunk-room. He rose again, got the lantern, lighted it, carried it out behind the lonely stable. The horses were grinding theirhay, the stars were faintly lighting the snow. There was no one about ashe hung the lantern under the eaves outside so that it could be seenfrom the open valley, but not from the house. A faint Yap-yah of a Fox was heard on the piney hillside, as he lay downon the hay in the loft, but there were no signs of life on the snow. Hehad come to wait all night if need be, and waited. The lantern mightallure, it might scare, but it was needed in this gloom, and it tingedthe snow with faint yellow light below him. An hour went by, then abig-tailed form came near and made a little bark at the lantern. Itlooked very dark, but it had a paler patch on the throat. This waitingwas freezing work; Josh's teeth were chattering in spite of hisovercoat. Another gray form came, then a much larger black one shapeditself on the white. It dashed at the first, which fled, and the secondone followed but a little and then sat down on the snow, gazing at thatbright light. When you are sure, you are so sure--Josh knew him now, hewas facing the Silver Fox. But the light was dim. Josh's hand trembledas he bared it to lay the back on his lips and suck so as to make amousey squeak. The effect on the Fox was instant. He glided forwardintent as a hunting cat. Again he stood in, oh! such a wonderful pose, still as a statue, frozen like a hiding Partridge, unbudging as a lonekid Antelope in May. And Josh raised--yes, he had come for that--heraised that fatal gun. The lantern blazed in the Fox's face at twentyyards; the light was flung back doubled by its shining eyes; it lookedperfectly clear. Josh lined the gun, but, strange to tell, the sights soplain were lost at once, and the gun was shaking like a sorghum stalkwhile the Gopher gnaws its root. He laid the weapon down with a groan, cursed his own poor trembling hand, and in an instant the wonder Fox wasgone. Poor Josh! He wasn't bad-tongued, but now he used all the evil words hehad ever heard, and he was Western bred. Then he reacted on himself. "The Fox might come back!" Suddenly he remembered something. He got outa common sulphur match. He wet it on his lips and rubbed it on themuzzle sight: Then on each side of the notch on the breech sight. Helined it for a tree. Yes! surely! What had been a blur of blackness hadnow a visible form. A faint bark on a far hillside might mean a coming or a going Fox. Joshwaited five minutes, then again he squeaked on his bare hand. The effectwas a surprise when from the shelter of the stable wall ten feet belowthere leaped the great dark Fox. At fifteen feet it paused. Those yelloworbs were fiery in the light and the rifle sights with the specks offire were lined. There was a sharp report and the black-robed fur wasstill and limp in the snow. Who can tell the crack of a small rifle among the louder cracks of greenlogs splitting with the fierce frost of a Yellowstone winter's night?Why should travel-worn travelers wake at each slight, usual sound? Whoknows? Who cares? And afar in Livingston what did the fur dealer care? It was a greatprize. Or the banker? he got his five hundred, and mother found it easyto accept the Indians' creed: "Who owns wild beasts? The man who killsthem. " "I did not know how it would come, " she said; "I only knew it wouldcome, for I prayed and believed. " We know that it came when it meant the most. The house was saved. It wasthe turn in their fortune's tide, and the crucial moment of the changewas when those three bright sulphur spots were lined with the livinglamps in the head of the Silver Fox. Yes! Josh was a poacher. Just once. 395 David Starr Jordan (1851--) was for many years president, now president emeritus, of Leland Stanford Junior University, and is known internationally for his books on science and on the prevention of war; he also is author of several books for children. The story that follows is taken from his _Science Sketches_, by permission of the publishers, A. C. McClurg & Co. , Chicago. It may stand as a perfect illustration of the modern informational story based on recognized scientific facts. "The Story of a Stone, " from the same book, is equally good. These stories may be taught in the seventh or eighth grade. THE STORY OF A SALMON DAVID STARR JORDAN In the realm of the Northwest Wind, on the boundary-line between thedark fir-forests and the sunny plains, there stands a mountain, --agreat white cone two miles and a half in perpendicular height. On itslower mile the dense fir-woods cover it with never-changing green; onits next half-mile a lighter green of grass and bushes gives place inwinter to white; and on its uppermost mile the snows of the great iceage still linger in unspotted purity. The people of Washington Territorysay that their mountain is the great "King-pin of the Universe, " whichshows that even in its own country Mount Tacoma is not without honor. Flowing down from the southwest slope of Mount Tacoma is a cold, clearriver, fed by the melting snows of the mountain. Madly it hastens downover white cascades and beds of shining sands, through birch-woods andbelts of dark firs, to mingle its waters at last with those of the greatColumbia. This river is the Cowlitz; and on its bottom, not many yearsago, there lay half buried in the sand a number of little orange-coloredglobules, each about as large as a pea. These were not much inthemselves, but great in their possibilities. In the waters above themlittle suckers and chubs and prickly sculpins strained their mouths todraw these globules from the sand, and vicious-looking crawfishes pickedthem up with their blundering hands and examined them with theirtelescopic eyes. But one, at least, of the globules escaped theircuriosity, else this story would not be worth telling. The sun shonedown on it through the clear water, and the ripples of the Cowlitz saidover it their incantations, and in it at last awoke a living being. Itwas a fish, --a curious little fellow, not half an inch long, with great, staring eyes, which made almost half his length, and with a body sotransparent that he could not cast a shadow. He was a little salmon, avery little salmon; but the water was good, and there were flies andworms and little living creatures in abundance for him to eat, and hesoon became a larger salmon. Then there were many more little salmonwith him, some larger and some smaller, and they all had a merry time. Those who had been born soonest and had grown largest used to chase theothers around and bite off their tails, or, still better, take them bythe heads and swallow them whole; for, said they, "Even young salmon aregood eating. " "Heads I win, tails you lose, " was their motto. Thus, whatwas once two small salmon became united into a single larger one, andthe process of "addition, division, and silence" still went on. By-and-by, when all the salmon were too large to be swallowed, theybegan to grow restless. They saw that the water rushing by seemed to bein a great hurry to get somewhere, and it was somehow suggested that itshurry was caused by something good to eat at the other end of itscourse. Then they all started down the stream, salmon-fashion, --whichfashion is to get into the current, head up-stream; and thus to driftbackward as the river sweeps along. Down the Cowlitz River the salmon went for a day and a night, findingmuch to interest them which we need not know. At last they began to growhungry; and coming near the shore, they saw an angle-worm of rare sizeand beauty floating in an eddy of the stream. Quick as thought one ofthem opened his mouth, which was well filled with teeth of differentsizes, and put it around the angle-worm. Quicker still he felt a sharppain in his gills, followed by a smothering sensation, and in an instanthis comrades saw him rise straight into the air. This was nothing new tothem; for they often leaped out of the water in their games ofhide-and-seek, but only to come down again with a loud splash not farfrom where they went out. But this one never came back, and the otherswent on their course wondering. At last they came to where the Cowlitz and the Columbia join, and theywere almost lost for a time; for they could find no shores, and thebottom and the top of the water were so far apart. Here they saw otherand far larger salmon in the deepest part of the current, turningneither to the right nor to the left, but swimming right on up-stream, just as rapidly as they could. And these great salmon would not stop forthem, and would not lie and float with the current. They had no time totalk, even in the simple sign language by which fishes express theirideas, and no time to eat. They had important work before them, and thetime was short. So they went on up the river, keeping their greatpurposes to themselves; and our little salmon and his friends from theCowlitz drifted down the stream. By-and-by the water began to change. It grew denser, and no longerflowed rapidly along; and twice a day it used to turn about and flow theother way. Then the shores disappeared, and the water began to have adifferent and peculiar flavor, --a flavor which seemed to the salmon muchricher and more inspiring than the glacier-water of their nativeCowlitz. There were many curious things to see, --crabs with hard shellsand savage faces, but so good when crushed and swallowed! Then therewere luscious squid swimming about; and, to a salmon, squid are likeripe peaches and cream. There were great companies of delicate sardinesand herring, green and silvery, and it was such fun to chase and capturethem! Those who eat sardines packed in oil by greasy fingers, andherrings dried in the smoke, can have little idea how satisfying it isto have a meal of them, plump and sleek and silvery, fresh from the sea. Thus the salmon chased the herrings about, and had a merry time. Thenthey were chased about in turn by great sea-lions, --swimming monsterswith huge half-human faces, long thin whiskers, and blundering ways. Thesea-lions liked to bite out the throat of a salmon, with its preciousstomach full of luscious sardines, and then to leave the rest of thefish to shift for itself. And the seals and the herrings scattered thesalmon about, till at last the hero of our story found himself quitealone, with none of his own kind near him. But that did not trouble himmuch, and he went on his own way, getting his dinner when he was hungry, which was all the time, and then eating a little between meals for hisstomach's sake. So it went on for three long years; and at the end of this time ourlittle fish had grown to be a great, fine salmon of twenty-two pounds'weight, shining like a new tin pan, and with rows of the loveliest roundblack spots on his head and back and tail. One day, as he was swimmingabout, idly chasing a big sculpin with head so thorny that he never wasswallowed by anybody, all of a sudden the salmon noticed a change in thewater around him. Spring had come again, and south-lying snow-drifts on the CascadeMountains once more felt that the "earth was wheeling sunwards. " Thecold snow waters ran down from the mountains and into the ColumbiaRiver, and made a freshet on the river. The high water went far out intothe sea, and out in the sea our salmon felt it on his gills. Heremembered how the cold water used to feel in the Cowlitz when he was alittle fish. In a blundering, fishy fashion he thought about it; hewondered whether the little eddy looked as it used to look, and whethercaddis-worms and young mosquitoes were really as sweet and tender as heused to think they were. Then he thought some other things; but as thesalmon's mind is located in the optic lobes of his brain, and ours is ina different place, we cannot be quite certain what his thoughts reallywere. What our salmon did, we know. He did what every grown salmon in theocean does when he feels the glacier-water once more upon his gills. Hebecame a changed being. He spurned the blandishment of soft-shelledcrabs. The pleasures of the table and of the chase, heretofore his onlydelights, lost their charms for him. He turned his course straighttoward the direction whence the cold water came, and for the rest of hislife never tasted a mouthful of food. He moved on toward theriver-mouth, at first playfully, as though he were not really certainwhether he meant anything after all. Afterward, when he struck the fullcurrent of the Columbia, he plunged straight forward with an unflinchingdetermination that had in it something of the heroic. When he had passedthe rough water at the bar, he was not alone. His old neighbors of theCowlitz, and many more from the Clackamas and the Spokane and Des Chûtesand Kootenay, --a great army of salmon, --were with him. In front werethousands pressing on, and behind them were thousands more, all moved bya common impulse which urged them up the Columbia. They were all swimming bravely along where the current was deepest, whensuddenly the foremost felt something tickling like a cobweb about theirnoses and under their chins. They changed their course a little to brushit off, and it touched their fins as well. Then they tried to slip downwith the current, and thus leave it behind. But, no! the thing, whateverit was, although its touch was soft, refused to let go, and held themlike a fetter. The more they struggled, the tighter became its grasp, and the whole foremost rank of the salmon felt it together; for it was agreat gill-net, a quarter of a mile long, stretched squarely across themouth of the river. By-and-by men came in boats, and hauled up the gill-net and the helplesssalmon that had become entangled in it. They threw the fishes into apile in the bottom of the boat, and the others saw them no more. We thatlive outside the water know better what befalls them, and we can tellthe story which the salmon could not. All along the banks of the Columbia River, from its mouth to nearlythirty miles away, there is a succession of large buildings, lookinglike great barns or warehouses, built on piles in the river, high enoughto be out of the reach of floods. There are thirty of these buildings, and they are called canneries. Each cannery has about forty boats, andwith each boat are two men and a long gill-net. These nets fill thewhole river as with a nest of cobwebs from April to July, and to eachcannery nearly a thousand great salmon are brought every day. Thesesalmon are thrown in a pile on the floor; and Wing Hop, the bigChinaman, takes them one after another on the table, and with a greatknife dexterously cuts off the head, the tail, and the fins; then with asudden thrust he removes the intestines and the eggs. The body goes intoa tank of water; and the head is dropped into a box on a flat-boat, andgoes down the river to be made into salmon oil. Next, the body isbrought to another table; and Quong Sang, with a machine like afeed-cutter, cuts it into pieces each just as long as a one-pound can. Then Ah Sam, with a butcher-knife, cuts these pieces into strips just aswide as the can. Next Wan Lee, the "China boy, " brings down a hundredcans from the loft where the tinners are making them, and into each putsa spoonful of salt. It takes just six salmon to fill a hundred cans. Then twenty Chinamen put the pieces of meat into the cans, fitting inlittle strips to make them exactly full. Ten more solder up the cans, and ten more put the cans into boiling water till the meat is thoroughlycooked, and five more punch a little hole in the head of each can to letout the air. Then they solder them up again, and little girls paste onthem bright-colored labels showing merry little cupids riding the happysalmon up to the cannery door, with Mount Tacoma and Cape Disappointmentin the background; and a legend underneath says that this is "Booth's, "or "Badollet's Best, " or "Hume's, " or "Clark's, " or "Kinney's SuperfineSalt Water Salmon. " Then the cans are placed in cases, forty-eight in acase, and five hundred thousand cases are put up every year. Great shipscome to Astoria, and are loaded with them; and they carry them away toLondon and San Francisco and Liverpool and New York and Sidney andValparaiso; and the man at the corner grocery sells them at twenty centsa can. All this time our salmon is going up the river, eluding one net as by amiracle, and soon having need of more miracles to escape the rest;passing by Astoria on a fortunate day, --which was Sunday, the day onwhich no man may fish if he expects to sell what he catches, --tillfinally he came to where nets were few, and, at last, to where theyceased altogether. But there he found that scarcely any of his manycompanies were with him; for the nets cease when there are no moresalmon to be caught in them. So he went on, day and night, where thewater was deepest, stopping not to feed or loiter on the way, till atlast he came to a wild gorge, where the great river became an angrytorrent, rushing wildly over a huge staircase of rocks. But our hero didnot falter; and summoning all his forces, he plunged into the Cascades. The current caught him and dashed him against the rocks. A whole row ofsilvery scales came off and glistened in the water like sparks of fire, and a place on his side became black-and-red, which, for a salmon, isthe same as being black-and-blue for other people. His comrades tried togo up with him; and one lost his eye, one his tail, and one had hislower jaw pushed back into his head like the joint of a telescope. Againhe tried to surmount the Cascades; and at last he succeeded, and anIndian on the rocks above was waiting to receive him. But the Indianwith his spear was less skillful than he was wont to be, and our heroescaped, losing only a part of one of his fins; and with him came oneother, and henceforth these two pursued their journey together. Now a gradual change took place in the looks of our salmon. In the seahe was plump and round and silvery, with delicate teeth in a symmetricalmouth. Now his silvery color disappeared, his skin grew slimy, and thescales sank into it; his back grew black, and his sides turned red, --nota healthy red, but a sort of hectic flush. He grew poor, and his back, formerly as straight as need be, now developed an unpleasant hump at theshoulders. His eyes--like those of all enthusiasts who forsake eatingand sleeping for some loftier aim--became dark and sunken. Hissymmetrical jaws grew longer and longer, and meeting each other, as thenose of an old man meets his chin, each had to turn aside to let theother pass. His beautiful teeth grew longer and longer, and projectedfrom his mouth, giving him a savage and wolfish appearance, quite atvariance with his real disposition. For all the desires and ambitions ofhis nature had become centered into one. We may not know what this onewas, but we know that it was a strong one; for it had led him on andon, --past the nets and horrors of Astoria; past the dangerous Cascades;past the spears of Indians; through the terrible flume of the Dalles, where the mighty river is compressed between huge rocks into a channelnarrower than a village street; on past the meadows of Umatilla and thewheat-fields of Walla Walla; on to where the great Snake River and theColumbia join; on up the Snake River and its eastern branch, till atlast he reached the foot of the Bitter Root mountains in the Territoryof Idaho, nearly a thousand miles from the ocean which he had left inApril. With him still was the other salmon which had come with himthrough the Cascades, handsomer and smaller than he, and, like him, growing poor and ragged and tired. At last, one October afternoon, our finny travelers came together to alittle clear brook, with a bottom of fine gravel, over which the waterwas but a few inches deep. Our fish painfully worked his way to it; forhis tail was all frayed out, his muscles were sore, and his skin coveredwith unsightly blotches. But his sunken eyes saw a ripple in the stream, and under it a bed of little pebbles and sand. So there in the sand hescooped out with his tail a smooth round place, and his companion cameand filled it with orange-colored eggs. Then our salmon came back again;and softly covering the eggs, the work of their lives was done, and, inthe old salmon fashion, they drifted tail foremost down the stream. They drifted on together for a night and a day, but they never came tothe sea. For the salmon has but one life to live, and it ascends theriver but once. The rest lies with its children. And when the Aprilsunshine fell on the globules in the gravel, these were wakened intolife. With the early autumn rains, the little fishes were large enoughto begin their wanderings. They dropped down the current in the oldsalmon fashion. And thus they came into the great river and drifted awayto the sea. 396 Probably no short-story writer now living is better known than Rudyard Kipling, an English author born in Bombay, India, in 1865. Among his many stories are some that may be classed as juvenile romantic nature literature. _Just-So Stories_ is a collection of humorous stories of this type, excellent for the fifth and sixth grades. _The Jungle Book_ and _The Second Jungle Book_, of a more serious nature, may be used in the seventh and eighth grades. The story that follows, taken from one of his earlier volumes, illustrates well Mr. Kipling's style of writing. It is suitable for the seventh or eighth grade. MOTI GUJ--MUTINEER RUDYARD KIPLING Once upon a time there was a coffee-planter in India who wished to clearsome forest land for coffee-planting. When he had cut down all the treesand burned the underwood, the stumps still remained. Dynamite isexpensive and slow fire slow. The happy medium for stump-clearing is thelord of all beasts, who is the elephant. He will either push the stumpout of the ground with his tusks, if he has any, or drag it out withropes. The planter, therefore, hired elephants by ones and twos andthrees, and fell to work. The very best of all the elephants belonged tothe very worst of all the drivers or mahouts; and this superior beast'sname was Moti Guj. He was the absolute property of his mahout, whichwould never have been the case under native rule: for Moti Guj was acreature to be desired by kings, and his name, being translated, meantthe Pearl Elephant. Because the British government was in the land, Deesa, the mahout, enjoyed his property undisturbed. He was dissipated. When he had made much money through the strength of his elephant, hewould get extremely drunk and give Moti Guj a beating with a tent-pegover the tender nails of the forefeet. Moti Guj never trampled the lifeout of Deesa on these occasions, for he knew that after the beating wasover, Deesa would embrace his trunk and weep and call him his love andhis life and the liver of his soul, and give him some liquor. Moti Gujwas very fond of liquor--arrack for choice, though he would drinkpalm-tree toddy if nothing better offered. Then Deesa would go to sleepbetween Moti Guj's forefeet, and as Deesa generally chose the middle ofthe public road, and as Moti Guj mounted guard over him, and would notpermit horse, foot, or cart to pass by, traffic was congested till Deesasaw fit to wake up. There was no sleeping in the daytime on the planter's clearing: thewages were too high to risk. Deesa sat on Moti Guj's neck and gave himorders, while Moti Guj rooted up the stumps--for he owned a magnificentpair of tusks; or pulled at the end of a rope--for he had a magnificentpair of shoulders--while Deesa kicked him behind the ears and said hewas the king of elephants. At evening time Moti Guj would wash down histhree hundred pounds' weight of green food with a quart of arrack, andDeesa would take a share, and sing songs between Moti Guj's legs till itwas time to go to bed. Once a week Deesa led Moti Guj down to the river, and Moti Guj lay on his side luxuriously in the shallows, while Deesawent over him with a coir-swab and a brick. Moti Guj never mistook thepounding blow of the latter for the smack of the former that warned himto get up and turn over on the other side. Then Deesa would look at hisfeet and examine his eyes, and turn up the fringes of his mighty ears incase of sores or budding ophthalmia. After inspection the two would"come up with a song from the sea, " Moti Guj, all black and shining, waving a torn tree branch twelve feet long in his trunk, and Deesaknotting up his own long wet hair. It was a peaceful, well-paid life till Deesa felt the return of thedesire to drink deep. He wished for an orgy. The little draughts thatled nowhere were taking the manhood out of him. He went to the planter, and "My mother's dead, " he said, weeping. "She died on the last plantation two months ago, and she died oncebefore that when you were working for me last year, " said the planter, who knew something of the ways of nativedom. "Then it's my aunt, and she was just the same as a mother to me, " saidDeesa, weeping more than ever. "She has left eighteen small childrenentirely without bread, and it is I who must fill their littlestomachs, " said Deesa, beating his head on the floor. "Who brought you the news?" said the planter. "The post, " said Deesa. "There hasn't been a post here for the past week. Get back to yourlines!" "A devastating sickness has fallen on my village, and all my wives aredying, " yelled Deesa, really in tears this time. "Call Chihun, who comes from Deesa's village, " said the planter. "Chihun, has this man got a wife?" "He?" said Chihun. "No. Not a woman of our village would look at him. They'd sooner marry the elephant. " Chihun snorted. Deesa wept and bellowed. "You will get into a difficulty in a minute, " said the planter. "Go backto your work!" "Now I will speak Heaven's truth, " gulped Deesa, with an inspiration. "Ihaven't been drunk for two months. I desire to depart in order to getproperly drunk afar off and distant from this heavenly plantation. ThusI shall cause no trouble. " A flickering smile crossed the planter's face. "Deesa, " said he, "you'vespoken the truth, and I'd give you leave on the spot if anything couldbe done with Moti Guj while you're away. You know that he will only obeyyour orders. " "May the light of the heavens live forty thousand years. I shall beabsent but ten little days. After that, _upon_ my faith and honor andsoul, I return. As to the inconsiderable interval, have I the graciouspermission of the heaven-born to call up Moti Guj?" Permission was granted, and in answer to Deesa's shrill yell, the mightytusker swung out of the shade of a clump of trees where he had beensquirting dust over himself till his master should return. "Light of my heart, protector of the drunken, mountain of might, giveear!" said Deesa, standing in front of him. Moti Guj gave ear, and saluted with his trunk. "I am going away!" saidDeesa. Moti Guj's eyes twinkled. He liked jaunts as well as his master. Onecould snatch all manner of nice things from the road-side then. "But you, you fussy old pig, must stay behind and work. " The twinkle died out as Moti Guj tried to look delighted. He hatedstump-hauling on the plantation. It hurt his teeth. "I shall be gone for ten days, oh delectable one! Hold up your nearforefoot and I'll impress the fact upon it, warty toad of a driedmud-puddle. " Deesa took a tent-peg and banged Moti Guj ten times on thenails. Moti Guj grunted and shuffled from foot to foot. "Ten days, " said Deesa, "you will work and haul and root the trees asChihun here shall order you. Take up Chihun and set him on your neck!"Moti Guj curled the tip of his trunk, Chihun put his foot there, and wasswung on to the neck. Deesa handed Chihun the heavy _ankus_--the ironelephant goad. Chihun thumped Moti Guj's bald head as a paver thumps a curbstone. Moti Guj trumpeted. "Be still, hog of the backwoods! Chihun's your mahout for ten days. Andnow bid me good-by, beast after mine own heart. Oh, my lord, my king!Jewel of all created elephants, lily of the herd, preserve your honoredhealth; be virtuous. Adieu!" Moti Guj lapped his trunk round Deesa and swung him into the air twice. That was his way of bidding him good-by. "He'll work now, " said Deesa to the planter. "Have I leave to go?" The planter nodded, and Deesa dived into the woods. Moti Guj went backto haul stumps. Chihun was very kind to him, but he felt unhappy and forlorn for allthat. Chihun gave him a ball of spices, and tickled him under the chin, and Chihun's little baby cooed to him after work was over, and Chihun'swife called him a darling; but Moti Guj was a bachelor by instinct, asDeesa was. He did not understand the domestic emotions. He wanted thelight of his universe back again--the drink and the drunken slumber, thesavage beatings and the savage caresses. None the less he worked well, and the planter wondered. Deesa hadwandered along the roads till he met a marriage procession of his owncaste, and, drinking, dancing, and tippling, had drifted with it pastall knowledge of the lapse of time. The morning of the eleventh day dawned, and there returned no Deesa. Moti Guj was loosed from his ropes for the daily stint. He swung clear, looked round, shrugged his shoulders, and began to walk away, as onehaving business elsewhere. "Hi! ho! Come back you!" shouted Chihun. "Come back and put me on yourneck, misborn mountain! Return, splendor of the hill-sides! Adornment ofall India, heave to, or I'll bang every toe off your fat forefoot!" Moti Guj gurgled gently, but did not obey. Chihun ran after him with arope and caught him up. Moti Guj put his ears forward, and Chihun knewwhat that meant, though he tried to carry it off with high words. "None of your nonsense with me, " said he. "To your pickets, devil-son!" "Hrrump!" said Moti Guj, and that was all--that and the forebent ears. Moti Guj put his hands in his pockets, chewed a branch for a toothpick, and strolled about the clearing, making fun of the other elephants whohad just set to work. Chihun reported the state of affairs to the planter, who came out with adog-whip and cracked it furiously. Moti Guj paid the white man thecompliment of charging him nearly a quarter of a mile across theclearing and "Hrrumphing" him into his veranda. Then he stood outsidethe house, chuckling to himself and shaking all over with the fun of itas an elephant will. "We'll thrash him, " said the planter. "He shall have the finestthrashing ever elephant received. Give Kala Nag and Nazim twelve foot ofchain apiece, and tell them to lay on twenty. " Kala Nag--which means Black Snake--and Nazim were two of the biggestelephants in the lines, and one of their duties was to administer thegraver punishment, since no man can beat an elephant properly. They took the whipping-chains and rattled them in their trunks as theysidled up to Moti Guj, meaning to hustle him between them. Moti Guj hadnever, in all his life of thirty-nine years, been whipped, and he didnot intend to begin a new experience. So he waited, waving his head fromright to left, and measuring the precise spot in Kala Nag's fat sidewhere a blunt tusk could sink deepest. Kala Nag had no tusks; the chainwas the badge of his authority; but for all that, he swung wide of MotiGuj at the last minute, and tried to appear as if he had brought thechain out for amusement. Nazim turned round and went home early. He didnot feel fighting fit that morning and so Moti Guj was left, standingalone with his ears cocked. That decided the planter to argue no more, and Moti Guj rolled back tohis amateur inspection of the clearing. An elephant who will not workand is not tied up is about as manageable as an eighty-one-ton gun loosein a heavy seaway. He slapped old friends on the back and asked them ifthe stumps were coming away easily; he talked nonsense concerning laborand the inalienable rights of elephants to a long "nooning"; and, wandering to and fro, he thoroughly demoralized the garden till sundown, when he returned to his picket for food. "If you won't work, you shan't eat, " said Chihun, angrily. "You're awild elephant, and no educated animal at all. Go back to your jungle. " Chihun's little brown baby was rolling on the floor of the hut, andstretching out its fat arms to the huge shadow in the doorway. Moti Gujknew well that it was the dearest thing on earth to Chihun. He swung outhis trunk with a fascinating crook at the end, and the brown baby threwitself, shouting upon it. Moti Guj made fast and pulled up till thebrown baby was crowing in the air twelve feet above his father's head. "Great Lord!" said Chihun. "Flour cakes of the best, twelve in number, two feet across and soaked in rum, shall be yours on the instant, andtwo hundred pounds weight of fresh-cut young sugar-cane therewith. Deignonly to put down safely that insignificant brat who is my heart and mylife to me!" Moti Guj tucked the brown baby comfortably between his forefeet, thatcould have knocked into toothpicks all Chihun's hut, and waited for hisfood. He ate it, and the brown baby crawled away. Moti Guj dozed andthought of Deesa. One of many mysteries connected with the elephant isthat his huge body needs less sleep than anything else that lives. Fouror five hours in the night suffice--two just before midnight, lying downon one side; two just after one o'clock, lying down on the other. Therest of the silent hours are filled with eating and fidgeting, and longgrumbling soliloquies. At midnight, therefore, Moti Guj strode out of his pickets, for athought had come to him that Deesa might be lying drunk somewhere in thedark forest with none to look after him. So all that night he chasedthrough the undergrowth, blowing and trumpeting and shaking his ears. Hewent down to the river and blared across the shallows where Deesa usedto wash him, but there was no answer. He could not find Deesa, but hedisturbed all the other elephants in the lines, and nearly frightened todeath some gypsies in the woods. At dawn Deesa returned to the plantation. He had been very drunk indeed, and he expected to get into trouble for outstaying his leave. He drew along breath when he saw that the bungalow and the plantation were stilluninjured, for he knew something of Moti Guj's temper, and reportedhimself with many lies and salaams. Moti Guj had gone to his pickets forbreakfast. The night exercises had made him hungry. "Call up your beast, " said the planter; and Deesa shouted in themysterious elephant language that some mahouts believe came from Chinaat the birth of the world, when elephants and not men were masters. MotiGuj heard and came. Elephants do not gallop. They move from places atvarying rates of speed. If an elephant wished to catch an express trainhe could not gallop, but he could catch the train. So Moti Guj was atthe planter's door almost before Chihun noticed that he had left hispickets. He fell into Deesa's arms, trumpeting with joy, and the man andbeast wept and slobbered over each other, and handled each other fromhead to heel to see that no harm had befallen. "Now we will get to work, " said Deesa. "Lift me up, my son and my joy!" Moti Guj swung him up, and the two went to the coffee-clearing to lookfor difficult stumps. The planter was too astonished to be very angry. 397 Among the writers of nature fiction, probably no one deserves higher rank than Charles G. D. Roberts (1860--), a Canadian. Mr. Roberts does not tell of his own adventures. His stories are truly nature fiction because the characters are animals and the purpose is to reveal the nature of these characters by showing how they would act when placed in various imaginary situations. _Kings in Exile_, from which the following selection is taken, is a book of splendid stories of large animals. Other excellent books by Mr. Roberts, suitable for the seventh and eighth grades, are _Hoof and Claw_, _Children of the Wild_, _Secret Trails_, and _Watchers of the Trails_, ("Last Bull" is used by permission of the publishers, The Macmillan Co. , New York. ) LAST BULL CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS That was what two grim old sachems of the Dacotahs had dubbed him; andthough his official title, on the lists of the Zoological Park, was"Kaiser, " the new and more significant name had promptly supplanted it. The Park authorities--people of imagination and of sentiment, as mustall be who would deal successfully with wild animals--had felt at oncethat the name aptly embodied the tragedies and the romantic memories ofhis all-but-vanished race. They had felt, too, that the two old braveswho had been brought East to adorn a city pageant, and who had stoodgazing stoically for hours at the great bull buffalo through the barrierof the steel-wire fence, were fitted, before all others, to give him aname. Between him and them there was surely a tragic bond, as they stoodthere islanded among the swelling tides of civilization which hadalready engulfed their kindreds. "Last Bull" they had called him, as heanswered their gaze with little, sullen, melancholy eyes from under hisponderous and shaggy front. "Last Bull"--and the passing of his race wasin the name. Here, in his fenced, protected range, with a space of grassy meadow, half a dozen clumps of sheltering trees, two hundred yards of the run ofa clear, unfailing brook, and a warm shed for refuge against the winterstorms, the giant buffalo ruled his little herd of three tawny cows, twoyearlings, and one blundering, butting calf of the season. He was amagnificent specimen of his race--surpassing, it was said, the finestbull in the Yellowstone preserves or in the guarded Canadian herd of theNorth. Little short of twelve feet in length, a good five foot ten inheight at the tip of his humped and huge fore-shoulders, he seemed tojustify the most extravagant tales of pioneer and huntsman. Hishind-quarters were trim and fine-lined, built apparently for speed, smooth-haired, and of a grayish lion-color. But his fore-shoulders, mounting to an enormous hump, were of an elephantine massiveness, andclothed in a dense, curling, golden-brown growth of matted hair. Hismighty head was carried low, almost to the level of his knees, on a neckof colossal strength, which was draped, together with the forelegs downto the knees, in a flowing brown mane tipped with black. His head, too, to the very muzzle, wore the same luxuriant and sombre drapery, out ofwhich curved viciously the keen-tipped crescent of his horns. Dark, huge, and ominous, he looked curiously out of place in the secure andfamiliar tranquillity of his green pasture. For a distance of perhaps fifty yards, at the back of the pasture, therange of the buffalo herd adjoined that of the moose, divided from it bythat same fence of heavy steel-wire mesh, supported by iron posts, whichsurrounded the whole range. One sunny and tingling day in lateOctober--such a day as makes the blood race full red through all healthyveins--a magnificent stranger was brought to the Park, and turned intothe moose-range. The newcomer was a New Brunswick bull moose, captured on the Tobiqueduring the previous spring when the snow was deep and soft, andpurchased for the Park by one of the big Eastern lumber-merchants. Themoose-herd had consisted, hitherto, of four lonely cows, and thesplendid bull was a prize which the Park had long been coveting. He tooklordly possession, forthwith, of the submissive little herd, and ledthem off at once from the curious crowds about the gate to explore thewild-looking thickets at the back of the pasture. But no sooner had hefairly entered these thickets than he found his further progress barredby the steel-meshed fence. This was a bitter disappointment, for he hadexpected to go striding through miles of alder swamp and dark sprucewoods, fleeing the hated world of men and bondage, before settinghimself to get acquainted with his new followers. His high-strung temperwas badly jarred. He drew off, shaking his vast antlers, and wentshambling with spacious stride down along the barrier towards the brook. The four cows, in single file, hurried after him anxiously, afraid hemight be snatched away from them. Last Bull, standing solitary and morose on a little knoll in hispasture, caught sight of the strange, dark figure of the running moose. A spark leapt into his heavy eyes. He wheeled, pawed the sod, put hismuzzle to the ground, and bellowed a sonorous challenge. The moosestopped short and stared about him, the stiff hair lifting angrily alongthe ridge of his massive neck. Last Bull lowered his head and tore upthe sod with his horns. This vehement action caught the eyes of the moose. At first he stared inamazement, for he had never seen any creature that looked like LastBull. The two were only about fifty or sixty yards apart, across thelittle valley of the bushy swamp. As he stared, his irritation speedilyovercame his amazement. The curious-looking creature over there on theknoll was defying him, was challenging him. At this time of year hisblood was hot and quick for any challenge. He gave vent to a short, harsh, explosive cry, more like a grumbling bleat than a bellow, and asunlike the buffalo's challenge as could well be imagined. Then he fellto thrashing the nearest bushes violently with his antlers. This, forsome reason unknown to the mere human chronicler, seemed to be taken byLast Bull as a crowning insolence. His long, tasselled tail went stifflyup into the air, and he charged wrathfully down the knoll. The moose, with his heavy-muzzled head stuck straight out scornfully before him, and his antlers laid flat along his back, strode down to the encounterwith a certain deadly deliberation. He was going to fight. There was nodoubt whatever on that score. But he had not quite made up his wary mindas to how he would deal with this unknown and novel adversary. They looked not so unequally matched, these two, the monarch of theWestern plains, and the monarch of the Northeastern forests. Both hadsomething of the monstrous, the uncouth, about them, as if they belongednot to this modern day, but to some prehistoric epoch when Earth mouldedher children on more lavish and less graceful lines. The moose was likethe buffalo in having his hind-quarters relatively slight and low, andhis back sloping upwards to a hump over the immensely developedfore-shoulders. But he had much less length of body, and much less bulk, though perhaps eight or ten inches more of height at the tip of theshoulder. His hair was short, and darker than that of his shaggy rival, being almost black except on legs and belly. Instead of carrying hishead low, like the buffalo, for feeding on the level prairies, he boreit high, being in the main a tree-feeder. But the greatest differencebetween the two champions was in their heads and horns. The antlers ofthe moose formed a huge, fantastic, flatly palmated or leaflikestructure, separating into sharp prongs along the edges, and spreadingmore than four feet from tip to tip. To compare them with the short, polished crescent of the horns of Last Bull was like comparing atwo-handed broadsword to a bowie-knife. And his head, instead of beingshort, broad, ponderous, and shaggy, like Last Bull's, was long, close-haired, and massively horse-faced, with a projecting upper lipheavy and grim. Had there been no impregnable steel barrier between them, it is hard tosay which would have triumphed in the end, the ponderous weight and furyof Last Bull, or the ripping prongs and swift wrath of the moose. Thebuffalo charged down the knoll at a thundering gallop; but just beforereaching the fence he checked himself violently. More than once or twicebefore had those elastic but impenetrable meshes given him his lesson, hurling him back with humiliating harshness when he dashed his bulkagainst them. He had too lively a memory of past discomfitures to risk afresh one now in the face of this insolent foe. His matted front cameagainst the wire with a force so cunningly moderated that he was notthrown back by the recoil. And the keen points of his horns went throughthe meshes with a vehemence which might indeed have done its workeffectively had they come in contact with the adversary. As it was, however, they but prodded empty air. The moose, meanwhile, had been in doubt whether to attack with hisantlers, as was his manner when encountering foes of his own kind, orwith his knife-edged fore-hoofs, which were the weapons he used againstbears, wolves, or other alien adversaries. Finally he seemed to make uphis mind that Last Bull, having horns and a most redoubtable stature, must be some kind of moose. In that case, of course, it became aquestion of antlers. Moreover, in his meetings with rival bulls it hadnever been his wont to depend upon a blind, irresistiblecharge, --thereby leaving it open to an alert opponent to slip aside andrip him along the flank, --but rather to fence warily for an advantage inthe locking of antlers, and then bear down his foe by the fury and speedof his pushing. It so happened, therefore, that he, too, came not tooviolently against the barrier. Loudly his vast spread of antlers clashedupon the steel meshes; and one short prong, jutting low over his brow, pierced through and furrowed deeply the matted forehead of the buffalo. As the blood streamed down over his nostrils, obscuring one eye, LastBull quite lost his head with rage. Drawing off, he hurled himselfblindly upon the barrier--only to be hurled back again with a vigor thatbrought him to his knees. But at the same time the moose, on the otherside of the fence, got a huge surprise. Having his antlers against thebarrier when Last Bull charged, he was forced back irresistibly upon hishaunches with a rudeness quite unlike anything that he had ever beforeexperienced. His massive neck felt as if a pine tree had fallen upon it, and he came back to the charge quite beside himself with bewildermentand rage. By this time, however, the keepers and Park attendants were arriving onthe scene, armed with pitchforks and other unpleasant executors ofauthority. Snorting, and bellowing, and grunting, the monstrousduellists were forced apart; and Last Bull, who had been taughtsomething of man's dominance, was driven off to his stable andimprisoned. He was not let out again for two whole days. And by thattime another fence, parallel with the first and some five or six feetdistant from it, had been run up between his range and that of themoose. Over this impassable zone of neutrality, for a few days, the tworivals flung insult and futile defiance, till suddenly, becoming tiredof it all, they seemed to agree to ignore each other's existence. After this, Last Bull's sullenness of temper appeared to grow upon him. He was fond of drawing apart from the little herd, and taking up hissolitary post on the knoll, where he would stand for an hour at a timemotionless except for the switching of his long tail, and staringsteadily westward as if he knew where the great past of his race hadlain. In that direction a dense grove of chestnuts, maples, and oaksbounded the range, cutting off the view of the city roofs, the roar ofthe city traffic. Beyond the city were mountains and wide waters whichhe could not see; but beyond the waters and the mountains stretched thegreen, illimitable plains--which perhaps (who knows?) in some faintvision inherited from the ancestors whose myriads had possessed them, his sombre eyes, in some strange way, _could_ see. Among the keepers andattendants generally it was said, with anxious regret, that perhaps LastBull was "going bad. " But the headkeeper, Payne, himself a son of theplains, repudiated the idea. _He_ declared sympathetically that thegreat bull was merely homesick, pining for the wind-swept levels of theopen country (God's country, Payne called it!) which his imprisonedhoofs had never trodden. Be this as it may, the fact could not be gainsaid that Last Bull wasgrowing more and more morose. The spectators, strolling along the widewalk which skirted the front of his range, seemed to irritate him, andsometimes, when a group had gathered to admire him, he would turn hislow-hung head and answer their staring eyes with a kind of heavy fury, as if he burned to break forth upon them and seek vengeance forincalculable wrongs. This smouldering indignation against humanityextended equally, if not more violently, to all creatures who appearedto him as servants or allies of humanity. The dogs whom he sometimes sawpassing, held in leash by their masters or mistresses, made him paw theearth scornfully if he happened to be near the fence. The patient horseswho pulled the road-roller or the noisy lawn-mower made his eyes reddensavagely. And he hated with peculiar zest the roguish little trickelephant, Bong, who would sometimes, his inquisitive trunk swinging fromside to side, go lurching lazily by with a load of squealing children onhis back. Bong, who was a favored character, amiable and trustworthy, was allowedthe freedom of the Park in the early morning, before visitors began toarrive who might be alarmed at seeing an elephant at large. He wasaddicted to minding his own business, and never paid the slightestattention to any occupants of cage or enclosure. He was quite unaware ofthe hostility which he had aroused in the perverse and brooding heart ofLast Bull. One crisp morning in late November, when all the grass in the Park hadbeen blackened by frost, and the pools were edged with silver rims ofice, and mists were white and saffron about the scarce-risen sun, andthat autumn thrill was in the air which gives one such an appetite, Bongchanced to be strolling past the front of Last Bull's range. He did notsee Last Bull, who was nothing to him. But, being just as hungry as heought to be on so stimulating a morning, he did see, and note withinterest, some bundles of fresh hay on the other side of the fence. Now, Bong was no thief. But hay had always seemed to him a free largess, like grass and water, and this looked like very good hay. So clear aconscience had he on the subject that he never thought of glancingaround to see if any of the attendants were looking. Innocently helurched up to the fence, reached his lithe trunk through, gathered aneat wisp of the hay, and stuffed it happily into his curious, narrow, pointed mouth. Yes, he had not been mistaken. It was good hay. Withgreat satisfaction he reached in for another mouthful. Last Bull, as it happened, was standing close by, but a little to oneside. He had been ignoring, so far, his morning ration. He was nothungry. And, moreover, he rather disapproved of the hay because it hadthe hostile man-smell strong upon it. Nevertheless, he recognized itvery clearly as his property, to be eaten when he should feel inclinedto eat it. His wrath, then, was only equalled by his amazement when hesaw the little elephant's presumptuous gray trunk reach in and coollyhelp itself. For a moment he forgot to do anything whatever about it. But when, a few seconds later, that long, curling trunk of Bong'sinsinuated itself again and appropriated another bundle of the nowprecious hay, the outraged owner bestirred himself. With a curt roar, that was more of a cough or a grunt than a bellow, he lunged forward andstrove to pin the intruding trunk to the ground. With startled alacrity Bong withdrew his trunk, but just in time to saveit from being mangled. For an instant he stood with the member held highin air, bewildered by what seemed to him such a gratuitous attack. Thenhis twinkling little eyes began to blaze, and he trumpeted shrilly withanger. The next moment, reaching over the fence, he brought down thetrunk on Last Bull's hump with such a terrible flail-like blow that thegreat buffalo stumbled forward upon his knees. He was up again in an instant and hurling himself madly against theinexorable steel which separated him from his foe. Bong hesitated for asecond, then, reaching over the fence once more, clutched Last Bullmaliciously around the base of his horns and tried to twist his neck. This enterprise, however, was too much even for the elephant's titanicpowers, for Last Bull's greatest strength lay in the muscles of hisponderous and corded neck. Raving and bellowing, he plunged this way andthat, striving in vain to wrench himself free from thatincomprehensible, snake-like thing which had fastened upon him. Bong, trumpeting savagely, braced himself with widespread pillars of legs, andbetween them it seemed that the steel fence must go down under suchcataclysmic shocks as it was suffering. But the noisy violence of thebattle presently brought its own ending. An amused but angry squad ofattendants came up and stopped it, and Bong, who seemed plainly theaggressor, was hustled off to his stall in deep disgrace. Last Bull was humiliated. In this encounter things had happened whichhe could in no way comprehend; and though, beyond an aching in neck andshoulders, he felt none the worse physically, he had nevertheless asense of having been worsted, of having been treated with ignominy, inspite of the fact that it was his foe, and not he, who had retired fromthe field. For several days he wore a subdued air and kept about meeklywith his docile cows. Then his old, bitter moodiness reasserted itself, and he resumed his solitary broodings on the crest of the knoll. When the winter storms came on, it had been Last Bull's custom to lethimself be housed luxuriously at nightfall, with the rest of the herd, in the warm and ample buffalo-shed. But this winter he made suchdifficulty about going in that at last Payne decreed that he should havehis own way and stay out. "It will do him no harm, and may cool hispeppery blood some!" had been the keeper's decision. So the door wasleft open, and Last Bull entered or refrained, according to his whim. Itwas noticed, however, --and this struck a chord of answering sympathy inthe plainsman's imaginative temperament, --that, though on ordinarynights he might come in and stay with the herd under shelter, on nightsof driving storm, if the tempest blew from the west or northwest, LastBull was sure to be out on the naked knoll to face it. When the finesleet or stinging rain drove past him, filling his nostrils with theircold, drenching his matted mane, and lashing his narrowed eyes, whatvisions swept through his troubled, half-comprehending brain, no one mayknow. But Payne, with understanding born of sympathy and a common nativesoil, catching sight of his dark bulk under the dark of the low sky, waswont to declare that _he_ knew. He would say that Last Bull's eyesdiscerned, black under the hurricane, but lit strangely with the flashof keen horns and rolling eyes and frothed nostrils, the endless andinnumerable droves of the buffalo, with the plains wolf skulking ontheir flanks, passing, passing, southward into the final dark. In theroar of the wind, declared Payne, Last Bull, out there in the night, listened to the trampling of all those vanished droves. And though theother keepers insisted to each other, quite privately, that their chieftalked a lot of nonsense about "that there mean-tempered old buffalo, "they nevertheless came gradually to look upon Last Bull with a kind ofawe, and to regard his surly whims as privileged. It chanced that winter that men were driving a railway tunnel beneath acorner of the Park. The tunnel ran for a short distance under the frontof Last Bull's range, and passed close by the picturesque cottageoccupied by Payne and two of his assistants. At this point the level ofthe Park was low, and the shell of earth was thin above the tunnel roof. There came a Sunday afternoon, after days of rain and penetratingJanuary thaw, when sun and air combined to cheat the earth with anillusion of spring. The buds and the mould breathed of April, and gaycrowds flocked to the Park, to make the most of winter's temporaryrepulse. Just when things were at their gayest, with children's voicesclamoring everywhere like starlings, and Bong, the little elephant, swinging good-naturedly up the broad white track with all the load hehad room for on his back, there came an ominous jar and rumble, like thefirst of an earthquake, which ran along the front of Last Bull's range. With sure instinct, Bong turned tail and fled with his young chargesaway across the grassland. The crowds, hardly knowing what they fledfrom, with screams and cries and blanched faces, followed the elephant'sexample. A moment later and, with a muffled crash, all along the frontof the range, the earth sank into the tunnel, carrying with it half adozen panels of Last Bull's hated fence. Almost in a moment the panic of the crowd subsided. Every one realizedjust what had happened. Moreover, thanks to Bong's timely alarm, everyone had got out of the way in good season. All fear of earthquake beingremoved, the crowd flocked back eagerly to stare down into the wreckedtunnel, which formed now a sort of gaping, chaotic ditch, with sides atsome points precipitous and at others brokenly sloping. The throng wasnoisy with excited interest and with relief at having escaped socleanly. The break had run just beneath one corner of the keepers'cottage, tearing away a portion of the foundation and wrenching thestructure slightly aside without overthrowing it. Payne, who had been inthe midst of his Sunday toilet, came out upon his twisted porch, halfundressed and with a shaving-brush covered with lather in his hand. Hegave one look at the damage which had been wrought, then plunged indoorsagain to throw his clothes on, at the same time sounding the hurry callfor the attendants in other quarters of the Park. Last Bull, who had been standing on his knoll, with his back to thethrongs, had wheeled in astonishment at the heavy sound of the cave-in. For a few minutes he had stared sullenly, not grasping the situation. Then very slowly it dawned on him that his prison walls had fallen. Yes, surely, there at last lay his way to freedom, his path to the great openspaces for which he dumbly and vaguely hungered. With statelydeliberation he marched down from his knoll to investigate. But presently another idea came into his slow mind. He saw the clamorouscrowds flocking back and ranging themselves along the edge of the chasm. These were his enemies. They were coming to balk him. A terrible madnesssurged through all his veins. He bellowed savage warning and camethundering down the field, nose to earth, dark, mountainous, irresistible. The crowd yelled and shrank back. "He can't get across!" shouted some. But others cried: "He can! He's coming! Save yourselves!" And withshrieks they scattered wildly across the open, making for the kiosks, the pavilions, the trees, anything that seemed to promise hiding orshelter from that on-rushing doom. At the edge of the chasm--at this point forming not an actual drop, buta broken slide--Last Bull hardly paused. He plunged down, rolled over inthe débris, struggled to his feet again instantly, and went ploughingand snorting up the opposite steep. As his colossal front, matted withmud, loomed up over the brink, his little eyes rolling and flaming, andthe froth flying from his red nostrils, he formed a very nightmare ofhorror to those fugitives who dared to look behind them. Surmounting the brink, he paused. There were so many enemies, he knewnot which to pursue first. But straight ahead, in the very middle of theopen, and far from any shelter, he saw a huddled group of children andnurses fleeing impotently and aimlessly. Shrill cries came from thecluster, which danced with colors, scarlet and yellow and blue and vividpink. To the mad buffalo, these were the most conspicuous and theloudest of his foes, and therefore the most dangerous. With a bellow heflung his tail straight in the air, and charged after them. An appalling hush fell, for a few heartbeats, all over the field. Thenfrom different quarters appeared uniformed attendants, racing andshouting frantically to divert the bull's attention. From fleeing groupsblack-coated men leapt forth, armed only with their walking-sticks, andrushed desperately to defend the flock of children, who now, in theextremity of their terror, were tumbling as they ran. Some of the nurseswere fleeing far in front, while others, the faithful ones, with eyesstarting from their heads, grabbed up their little charges and struggledon under the burden. Already Last Bull was halfway across the space which divided him fromhis foes. The ground shook under his ponderous gallop. At this momentPayne reappeared on the broken porch. One glance showed him that no one was near enough to intervene. With aface stern and sorrowful he lifted the deadly . 405 Winchester which hehad brought out with him. The spot he covered was just behind LastBull's mighty shoulder. The smokeless powder spoke with a small, venomous report, unlike theblack powder's noisy reverberation. Last Bull stumbled. But recoveringhimself instantly, he rushed on. He was hurt, and he felt it was thosefleeing foes who had done it. A shade of perplexity darkened Payne'sface. He fired again. This time his aim was true. The heavy expandingbullet tore straight through bone and muscle and heart, and Last Bulllurched forward upon his head, ploughing up the turf for yards. As hismad eyes softened and filmed, he saw once more, perhaps, --or so theheavy-hearted keeper who had slain him would have us believe, --theshadowy plains unrolling under the wild sky, and the hosts of hisvanished kindred drifting past into the dark. SECTION X ROMANCE CYCLES AND LEGEND BIBLIOGRAPHY Baldwin, James, _The Story of Roland_. _The Story of Siegfried. _ Baring-Gould, Sabine, _Curious Myths of the Middle Ages_. Becquer, G. A. , _Romantic Legends of Spain_. Canton, W. V. , _Child's Book of Saints_. Cervantes-Saavedra, Miguel de, _Don Quixote_. [In translation, or as retold by Havell or Parry. ] Church, Alfred J. , _Stories from the Iliad_. _Stories from the Odyssey. _ _Heroes of Chivalry and Romance. _ _Stories of Charlemagne and the Twelve Peers of France. _ Colum, Padraic, _The Adventures of Odysseus and the Tale of Troy_. Crommelin, Emeline G. , _Famous Legends_. Darton, F. J. H. , _Wonder Book of Old Romance_. Farrington, Margaret V. , _Tales of King Arthur_. Finnemore, John, _The Story of Robin Hood and His Merry Men_. Guerber, H. A. , _Legends of the Middle Ages_. Guest, Lady Charlotte, _The Mabinogion_. Herbertson, Agnes G. , _Heroic Legends_. Homer, _Iliad_. [Prose translation by Lang, Leaf, and Myers; poetic by Bryant. ] Homer, _Odyssey_. [Prose translation by George H. Palmer; poetic by Bryant. ] Hull, Eleanor, _The Boys' Cuchulain: Heroic Legends of Ireland_. Lamb, Charles, _The Adventures of Ulysses_. Lane, E. W. , _Arabian Nights' Entertainments_. Lang, Andrew, _A Book of Romance_. Lanier, Sidney, _The Boy's King Arthur_. _The Boy's Mabinogion_. MacLeod, Mary, _King Arthur and His Noble Knights_. Marshall, H. E. , _The Story of William Tell_. _The Story of Roland. _ Marvin, Frank S. (and others), _Adventures of Odysseus_. Morris, William, _Sigurd, the Volsung_. Newbolt, Henry, _Stories from Froissart_. Pyle, Howard, _Stories of King Arthur and His Knights_. _Some Merry Adventures of Robin Hood. _ Plummer, Mary W. , _Stories from the Chronicle of the Cid_. Ragozin, Z. A. , _Frithjof and Roland_. _Siegfried and Beowulf. _ Rolleston, T. W. , _High Deeds of Finn_. Scudder, Horace E. , _The Book of Legends_. Tappan, Eva March, _Robin Hood: His Book_. Tennyson, Alfred, _The Idylls of the King_. Warren, Maude Radford, _King Arthur and His Knights_. _Robin Hood and His Merry Men. _ Wilson, C. D. , _Story of the Cid for Young People_. SECTION X. ROMANCE CYCLES AND LEGEND INTRODUCTORY _The material included. _ The heading adopted for this section is usedsomewhat loosely to include those many and varied collections of storieswhich have with the passage of time been gradually brought together intoso-called cycles, unified around some central figure, or by means ofsome kind of framework. It would thus bring into its scope the series ofstories which make up the Greek _Odyssey_, the Anglo-Saxon _Beowulf_, the Finnish _Kalevala_, and other national epics. It would include thestories centering around King Arthur, Siegfried, Roland, the Cid, Alexander, Charlemagne, Robin Hood, and Reynard the Fox. Besides allthese cycles and others like them, there is a great body of separatelegends of persons and places, exemplified by "The Proud King, " thatseem almost to constitute a work by themselves. The extended body ofeastern stories known as _The Arabian Nights_ are also placed here, asis Cervantes' _Don Quixote_. The last inclusion may seem to violate eventhe wide range of the heading, as _Don Quixote_ is distinctly one of theworld's great modern masterpieces, and is by a known author. But thatbook is after all a cycle of adventures with a central figure not unlikethe romance cycles, and, since it is popularly supposed to have had itsorigin in the purpose of humorously satirizing the romances of chivalry, it may be allowed to stand in connection with them. _The place for such stories. _ The developing child soon passes out ofthe period where the old fairy stories and their modern analoguessatisfy his needs. He comes into a period of hero-worship where hedemands not only courage and prowess of magnificent proportions, butalso a sinking of self in as equally magnificent and disinterestedservice of great causes. To the child's mind there is nothingfantastical about the chivalric ideas of courtesy, and friendship, andall high personal ideals. It is the natural food of his mind. He willallow nothing mean or unclean. It seems, roughly speaking, that the timeof greatest appeal for such stories is about the fourth, fifth, andsixth grades. By the end of that period he is already well along towardan interest in the real men and women of history, toward a morerealistic and practical conception of the problems of human life. _The problems of choice and adaptation. _ The wealth of materialavailable is so great as to be bewildering. As yet there is no commonagreement as to just which stories are best for our purpose, nor isthere any as to where particular stories should be used. The adaptersand story-tellers differ much in their views on these questions. Youngteachers, it is clear, cannot be expected to know this vast field in anydetail. The saving fact is that teachers can hardly make a mistake byusing any story that has awakened their own interest and enthusiasm, andwhich, for that reason, they will be able to present in a simple andstriking form. Having in mind, then, the beginning teacher, we make thefollowing specific suggestions: 1. _Beowulf. _ The inexperienced teacher will find a splendid version, "The Story of Beowulf, " ready-made in Wyche's _Some Great Stories and How to Tell Them_. To work from the complete epic, use any of the translations by Child, Tinker, Gummere, or Hall. "Perhaps it is not too much to assert . . . That in its lofty spirit, its vigor, and its sincerity, . . . It reflects traits which are distinctive of English-speaking people throughout the world. " 2. _King Arthur. _ The final source must be Sir Thomas Malory's _Le Morte D'Arthur_, represented in the following pages by Nos. 401, 402, and 403. Some passages from Malory should be read to the class. For suggestions as to method in handling the stories, see Wyche as above, where there is a fine brief version. In _King Arthur and His Knights_, by Mrs. Warren (Maude Radford), may be found a good working version of the whole cycle. ". . . In delicacy of feeling, in reverence for women, in courtesy to friend and foe, the Arthurian story foreshadowed much that is gentlest and best in modern civilization. " 3. _Robin Hood. _ Go at once to one of the simple prose versions of the story. Satisfactory ones are those by Miss Tappan, by Mrs. Warren, or by Howard Pyle (the shorter version). As time and opportunity offer read the simple old ballads which are the source of the story of "merry" Sherwood. "If ever verse lashed abuse with a smile, it is this. The sun shines brightly overhead; it is a good world to be alive in, its wrongs are being righted, and its very misfortunes are ultimately to bring happier times. " 4. A few stories about Roland, Siegfried, the Cid, Charlemagne, and others may be used by teachers who have had opportunity to get acquainted with those great figures, or who have access to some of the authorities listed in the bibliography. This material is more difficult to handle satisfactorily than that already discussed, and may well be sparingly used, if not omitted altogether. For a general collection of legends, the ideal as to choice and method of presentation is Scudder's _The Book of Legends_ (No. 412). From _The Arabian Nights_ use "Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves" (No. 398), "Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp, " and "The Stories of Sindbad the Sailor. " Almost any of the accessible versions will be satisfactory. For _Reynard the Fox_, the one adaptation that presents the story in a fairly good form for children is that made by Sir Henry Cole, available as edited by Joseph Jacobs (Nos. 399 and 400). Perhaps as much of _Don Quixote_ is given in this text (Nos. 405-411) as teachers can use. A full translation is a satisfactory source for this story, although the shortened forms by Havell or Parry are admirable. SUGGESTIONS FOR READING Most of the books on story-telling have discussions of the best ways of dealing with the romance material. Especially valuable in this connection are Wyche, _Great Stories and How to Tell Them_, and Lyman, _Story Telling_. For scholarly and yet not too difficult books giving a perspective of the entire field see W. W. Lawrence, _Medieval Story and the Beginnings of the Social Ideals of English-speaking People_, or W. P. Ker, _Epic and Romance_. Consult MacClintock, "Hero-Tales and Romances, " _Literature in the Elementary School_, chap. Viii. 398 _The Arabian Nights' Entertainment_ or _Thousand and One Nights_ is a collection of about four hundred old oriental stories, chiefly from Persia, India, and Arabia. They were brought together probably in the thirteenth century and told orally as stories told to entertain King Shahriyar; but scholars think the collection was not written until some time between the years 1350 and 1550. Some of the stories probably were told as early as the ninth century. The stories are of various kinds--fables, anecdotes, legends, hero stories, wonder stories, and romances. "The Story of Alnaschar" (No. 235 in this book) is one of the fables. The collection became known to European readers in 1704, when it was translated from the Arabic by a French scholar named Galland. Since that time the fables have been translated extensively. The translation into English by Lane is the most valuable one for a teacher who wishes to have all of the book that is fit for public use. Like many of the world's great compilations of this sort, it is made up of a mixture of good and bad. The oriental play of imagination in these stories and the background of old Eastern scenery and customs have made them a source of entertainment and instruction for all civilized nations. The story that follows has always been one of the favorites among oriental wonder stories, and is given in a familiar traditional version. ALI BABA, AND THE FORTY THIEVES In a town in Persia there lived two brothers, the sons of a poor man;the one was named Cassim, and the other Ali Baba. Cassim, the elder, married a wife with a considerable fortune, and lived at his ease in ahandsome house, with plenty of servants; but the wife of Ali Baba was aspoor as himself; they dwelt in a mean cottage in the suburbs of thecity, and he maintained his family by cutting wood in a neighboringforest. One day when Ali Baba was in the forest and preparing to load his threeasses with the wood he had cut, he saw a troop of horsemen comingtowards him. He had often heard of robbers who infested that forest, and, in a great fright, he hastily climbed a large thick tree, whichstood near the foot of a rock, and hid himself among the branches. The horsemen soon galloped up to the rock, where they all dismounted. Ali Baba counted forty of them, and he could not doubt but they werethieves, by their ill-looking countenances. They each took a loadedportmanteau from his horse; and he who seemed to be their captain, turning to the rock, said, "Open Sesame, " and immediately a door openedin the rock, and all the robbers passed in, when the door shut itself. In a short time the door opened again, and the forty robbers came out, followed by their captain, who said, "Shut Sesame. " The door instantlyclosed; and the troop, mounting their horses, were presently out ofsight. Ali Baba remained in the tree a long time, and seeing that the robbersdid not return, he ventured down, and, approaching close to the rock, said, "Open Sesame. " Immediately the door flew open, and Ali Baba behelda spacious cavern, very light, and filled with all sorts ofpossessions, --merchandise, rich stuffs, and heaps of gold and silvercoin, which these robbers had taken from merchants and travelers. Ali Baba then went in search of his asses, and having brought them tothe rock, took as many bags of gold coin as they could carry, and putthem on their backs, covering them with some loose fagots of wood. Afterwards (not forgetting to say "Shut Sesame") he drove the asses backto the city; and having unloaded them in the stable belonging to hiscottage, carried the bags into the house and spread the gold coin outupon the floor before his wife. His wife, delighted with so much money, wanted to count it; but findingit would take up too much time, she was resolved to measure it, andrunning to the house of Ali Baba's brother, she entreated them to lendher a small measure. Cassim's wife was very proud and envious. "Iwonder, " she said to herself, "what sort of grain such poor people canhave to measure; but I am determined I will find out what they aredoing. " So before she gave the measure, she artfully rubbed the bottomwith some suet. Away ran Ali Baba's wife, measured her money, and helped her husband tobury it in the yard. Then she carried back the measure to herbrother-in-law's house, without perceiving that a piece of gold was leftsticking to the bottom of it. "Fine doings, indeed!" cried Cassim's wifeto her husband, after examining the measure. "Your brother there, whopretends to be so poor, is richer than you are, for he does not counthis money, but measures it. " Cassim, hearing these words and seeing the piece of gold, grew asenvious as his wife; and hastening to his brother, threatened to informthe Cadi of his wealth if he did not confess to him how he came by it. Ali Baba without hesitation told him the history of the robbers and thesecret of the cave, and offered him half his treasure; but the enviousCassim disdained so poor a sum, resolving to have fifty times more thanthat out of the robbers' cave. Accordingly he rose early the nextmorning and set out with ten mules loaded with great chests. He foundthe rock easily enough by Ali Baba's description; and having said "OpenSesame, " he gained admission into the cave, where he found more treasurethan he had expected to behold even from his brother's account of it. He immediately began to gather bags of gold and pieces of rich brocade, all which he piled close to the door; but when he had got together asmuch as his ten mules could possibly carry, or even more, and wanted toget out to load them, the thoughts of his wonderful riches had made himentirely forget the word which caused the door to open. In vain he tried"Bame, " "Fame, " "Lame, " "Tetame, " and a thousand others. The doorremained as immovable as the rock itself, notwithstanding Cassim kickedand screamed till he was ready to drop with fatigue and vexation. Presently he heard the sound of horses' feet, which he rightly concludedto be the robbers, and he trembled lest he should now fall a victim tohis thirst for riches. He resolved, however, to make an effort toescape; and when he heard the "Sesame" pronounced, and saw the dooropen, he sprang out, but was instantly put to death by the swords of therobbers. The thieves now held a council, but not one of them could possibly guessby what means Cassim had got into the cave. They saw the heaps oftreasure he had piled ready to take away, but they did not miss what AliBaba had secured before. At length they agreed to cut Cassim's body intofour quarters and hang the pieces within the cave, that it mightterrify any one from further attempts; and also determined not to returnthemselves for some time to the cave for fear of being watched anddiscovered. When Cassim's wife saw night come on, and her husband not returned, shebecame greatly terrified; she watched at her window till daybreak andthen went to tell Ali Baba of her fears. Cassim had not informed him ofhis design of going to the cave; but Ali Baba, now hearing of hisjourney thither, went immediately in search of him. He drove his assesto the forest without delay. He was alarmed to see blood near the rock;and on entering the cave, he found the body of his unfortunate brothercut to pieces and hung up within the door. It was now too late to savehim; but he took down the quarters and put them upon one of his asses, covering them with fagots of wood; and, weeping for the miserable end ofhis brother, he regained the city. The door of his brother's house wasopened by Morgiana, an intelligent, faithful female slave, who, Ali Babaknew, was worthy to be trusted with the secret. He therefore delivered the body to Morgiana, and went himself to impartthe sad tidings to the wife of Cassim. The poor woman was deeplyafflicted, and reproached herself with her foolish envy and curiosity, as being the cause of her husband's death; but Ali Baba having convincedher of the necessity of being very discreet, she checked herlamentations and resolved to leave everything to the management ofMorgiana. Morgiana, having washed the body, hastened to an apothecary's and askedfor some particular medicine, saying that it was for her master Cassim, who was dangerously ill. She took care to spread the report of Cassim'sillness throughout the neighborhood; and as they saw Ali Baba and hiswife going daily to the house of their brother, in great affliction, they were not surprised to hear shortly that Cassim had died of hisdisorder. The next difficulty was to bury him without discovery; but Morgiana wasready to contrive a plan for that also. She put on her veil and went toa distant part of the city very early in the morning, where she found apoor cobbler just opening his stall. She put a piece of gold into hishand, and told him he should have another, if he would suffer himself tobe blindfolded and go with her, carrying his tools with him. Mustapha, the cobbler, hesitated at first, but the gold tempted him and heconsented; when Morgiana, carefully covering his eyes, so that he couldnot see a step of the way, led him to Cassim's house; and taking himinto the room where the body was lying, removed the bandage from hiseyes, and bade him sew the mangled limbs together. Mustapha obeyed herorder; and having received two pieces of gold, was led blindfold thesame way back to his own stall. Morgiana then covered the body with a winding-sheet and sent for theundertaker to make preparations for the funeral. Cassim was buried withall due solemnity the same day. Ali Baba now removed his few goods, andall the gold coin that he had brought home from the cavern, to the houseof his deceased brother, of which he took possession; and Cassim's widowreceived every kind attention from both Ali Baba and his wife. After an interval of some months, the troop of robbers again visitedtheir retreat in the forest, and were completely astonished to find thebody taken away from the cave, and everything else remaining in itsusual order. "We are discovered, " said the captain, "and shall certainlybe undone, if you do not adopt speedy measures to prevent our ruin. Which of you, my brave comrades, will undertake to search out thevillain who is in possession of our secret?" One of the boldest of the troop advanced, and offered himself; and wasaccepted on the following conditions: namely, that if he succeeded inhis enterprise, he was to be made second in command of the troop; butthat if he brought false intelligence, he was immediately to be put todeath. The bold robber readily agreed to the conditions; and havingdisguised himself, he proceeded to the city. He arrived there about daybreak, and found the cobbler Mustapha in hisstall, which was always open before any other shop in the town. "Goodmorrow, friend, " said the robber, as he passed the stall, "you risebetimes; I should think old as you are, you could scarcely see to workby this light. " "Indeed, sir, " replied the cobbler, "old as I am, I do not want for goodeyesight; as you must needs believe, when I tell you I sewed a dead bodytogether the other day, where I had not so good a light as I have now. " "A dead body!" exclaimed the robber; "you mean, I suppose, that yousewed up the winding-sheet for a dead body. " "I mean no such thing, " replied Mustapha; "I tell you that I sewed thefour quarters of a man together. " This was enough to convince the robber he had luckily met with the veryman who could give him the information he was in search of. However hedid not wish to appear eager to learn the particulars, lest he shouldalarm the cobbler. "Ha! ha!" said he, "I find, good Mr. Cobbler, thatyou perceive I am a stranger here, and you wish to make me believe thatthe people of your city do impossible things. " "I tell you, " said Mustapha in a loud and angry tone, "I sewed a deadbody together with my own hands. "--"Then I suppose you can tell me alsowhere you performed this wonderful business. " Upon this, Mustapharelated every particular of his being led blindfold to the house, etc. "Well, my friend, " said the robber, "it is a fine story, I confess, butnot very easy to believe; however, if you will convince me by showing methe house you talk of, I will give you four pieces of gold to makeamends for my unbelief. " "I think, " said the cobbler, after considering awhile, "that if you wereto blindfold me, I should remember every turning we made; but with myeyes open I am sure I should never find it. " Accordingly the robbercovered Mustapha's eyes with his handkerchief; and the cobbler led himthrough most of the principal streets, and stopping by Cassim's door, said, "Here it is; I went no further than this house. " The robber immediately marked the door with a piece of chalk; and, giving Mustapha his four pieces of gold, dismissed him. Shortly afterthe thief and Mustapha had quitted the door, Morgiana, coming home frommarket, perceived the little mark of white chalk on the door. Suspectingsomething was wrong, she directly marked four doors on one side and fiveon the other of her master's, in exactly the same manner, without sayinga word to any one. The robber meantime rejoined his troop and boasted greatly of hissuccess. His captain and comrades praised his diligence; and being wellarmed, they proceeded to the town in different disguises, and inseparate parties of three and four together. It was agreed among them that they were to meet in the market-place atthe dusk of evening, and that the captain and the robber who haddiscovered the house were to go there first, to find out to whom itbelonged. When they arrived in the street, having a lantern with them, they began to examine the doors, and found to their confusion andastonishment that ten doors were marked exactly alike. The robber, whowas the captain's guide, could not say a word in explanation of thismystery; and when the disappointed troop got back to the forest, hisenraged companions ordered him to be put to death. Another now offered himself upon the same conditions as the former; andhaving bribed Mustapha, and discovered the house, he made a mark withthe dark red chalk upon the door, in a part that was not in the leastconspicuous; and carefully examined the surrounding doors, to be certainthat no such marks were upon them. But nothing could escape the pryingeyes of Morgiana; scarcely had the robber departed, when she discoveredthe red mark; and getting some red chalk, she marked seven doors on eachside, precisely in the same place and in the same manner. The robber, valuing himself highly upon the precautions he had taken, triumphantlyconducted his captain to the spot; but great indeed was his confusionand dismay when he found it impossible to say which, among fifteenhouses marked exactly alike, was the right one. The captain, furiouswith his disappointment, returned again with the troop to the forest;and the second robber was also condemned to death. The captain having lost two of his troop, judged that their hands weremore active than their heads in such services; and he resolved to employno other of them, but to go himself upon the business. Accordingly herepaired to the city and addressed himself to the cobbler Mustapha, who, for six pieces of gold, readily performed the services for him he haddone for the other two strangers. The captain, much wiser than his men, did not amuse himself with setting a mark upon the door, but attentivelyconsidered the house, counted the number of windows, and passed by itvery often, to be certain that he should know it again. He then returned to the forest, and ordered his troop to go into thetown, and buy nineteen mules and thirty-eight large jars, one full ofoil and the rest empty. In two or three days the jars were bought, andall things in readiness; and the captain having put a man into each jar, properly armed, the jars being rubbed on the outside with oil, and thecovers having holes bored in them for the men to breathe through, loadedhis mules, and in the habit of an oil-merchant entered the town in thedusk of the evening. He proceeded to the street where Ali Baba dwelt, and found him sitting in the porch of his house. "Sir, " said he to AliBaba, "I have brought this oil a great way to sell, and am too late forthis day's market. As I am quite a stranger in this town, will you do methe favor to let me put my mules into your court-yard, and direct mewhere I may lodge to-night?" Ali Baba, who was a very good-natured man, welcomed the pretendedoil-merchant very kindly, and offered him a bed in his own house; andhaving ordered the mules to be unloaded in the yard, and properly fed, he invited his guest in to supper. The captain, having seen the jarsplaced ready in the yard, followed Ali Baba into the house, and aftersupper was shown to the chamber where he was to sleep. It happened that Morgiana was obliged to sit up later that night thanusual, to get ready her master's bathing linen for the followingmorning; and while she was busy about the fire, her lamp went out, andthere was no more oil in the house. After considering what she couldpossibly do for a light, she recollected the thirty-eight oil jars inthe yard and determined to take a little oil out of one of them for herlamp. She took her oil pot in her hand and approached the first jar; therobber within said, "Is it time, captain?" Any other slave, on hearing a man in an oil jar, would have screamedout; but the prudent Morgiana instantly recollected herself, and repliedsoftly, "No, not yet; lie still till I call you. " She passed on to everyjar, receiving the same question and making the same answer, till shecame to the last, which was really filled with oil. Morgiana was now convinced that this was a plot of the robbers to murderher master, Ali Baba; so she ran back to the kitchen and brought out alarge kettle, which she filled with oil, and set it on a great woodfire; and as soon as it boiled she went and poured into the jarssufficient of the boiling oil to kill every man within them. Having donethis she put out her fire and her lamp, and crept softly to her chamber. The captain of the robbers, finding everything quiet in the house, andperceiving no light anywhere, arose and went down into the yard toassemble his men. Coming to the first jar, he felt the steam of theboiled oil; he ran hastily to the rest and found every one of his troopput to death in the same manner. Full of rage and despair at havingfailed in his design, he forced the lock of a door that led into thegarden and made his escape over the walls. On the following morning Morgiana related to her master, Ali Baba, hiswonderful deliverance from the pretended oil-merchant and his gang ofrobbers. Ali Baba at first could scarcely credit her tale; but when hesaw the robbers dead in the jars, he could not sufficiently praise hercourage and sagacity; and without letting any one else into the secret, he and Morgiana the next night buried the thirty-seven thieves in a deeptrench at the bottom of the garden. The jars and mules, as he had no usefor them, were sent from time to time to the different markets and sold. While Ali Baba took these measures to prevent his and Cassim'sadventures in the forest from being known, the captain returned to hiscave, and for some time abandoned himself to grief and despair. Atlength, however, he determined to adopt a new scheme for the destructionof Ali Baba. He removed by degrees all the valuable merchandise from thecave to the city and took a shop exactly opposite to Ali Baba's house. He furnished this shop with everything that was rare and costly, andwent by the name of the merchant Cogia Hassan. Many persons madeacquaintance with the stranger; among others, Ali Baba's son went everyday to the shop. The pretended Cogia Hassan soon appeared to be veryfond of Ali Baba's son, offered him many presents, and often detainedhim at dinner, on which occasions he treated him in the handsomestmanner. Ali Baba's son thought it was necessary to make some return to thesecivilities, and pressed his father to invite Cogia Hassan to supper. AliBaba made no objection, and the invitation was accordingly given. Theartful Cogia Hassan would not too hastily accept this invitation, butpretended he was not fond of going into company, and that he hadbusiness which demanded his presence at home. These excuses only madeAli Baba's son the more eager to take him to his father's house; andafter repeated solicitations, the merchant consented to sup at AliBaba's house the next evening. A most excellent supper was provided, which Morgiana cooked in the bestmanner, and as was her usual custom, she carried in the first dishherself. The moment she looked at Cogia Hassan, she knew it was thepretended oil-merchant. The prudent Morgiana did not say a word to anyone of this discovery, but sent the other slaves into the kitchen andwaited at table herself; and while Cogia Hassan was drinking, sheperceived he had a dagger hid under his coat. When supper was ended, and the dessert and wine on the table, Morgianawent away and dressed herself in the habit of a dancing-girl; she nextcalled Abdalla, a fellow slave, to play on his tabor while she danced. As soon as she appeared at the parlor door, her master, who was veryfond of seeing her dance, ordered her to come in to entertain his guestwith some of her best dancing. Cogia Hassan was not very well satisfiedwith this entertainment, yet was compelled, for fear of discoveringhimself, to seem pleased with the dancing, while, in fact, he wishedMorgiana a great way off, and was quite alarmed lest he should lose hisopportunity of murdering Ali Baba and his son. Morgiana danced several dances with the utmost grace and agility; andthen drawing a poniard from her girdle, she performed many surprisingthings with it, sometimes presenting the point to one and sometimes toanother, and then seemed to strike it into her own bosom. Suddenly shepaused, and holding the poniard in the right hand, presented her left toher master as if begging some money; upon which Ali Baba and his soneach gave her a small piece of money. She then turned to the pretendedCogia Hassan, and while he was putting his hand into his purse, sheplunged the poniard into his heart. "Wretch!" cried Ali Baba, "thou hast ruined me and my family. " "No, sir, " replied Morgiana, "I have preserved, and not ruined you andyour son. Look well at this traitor, and you will find him to be thepretended oil-merchant who came once before to rob and murder you. " Ali Baba pulled off the turban and the cloak which the false CogiaHassan wore and discovered that he was not only the pretendedoil-merchant, but the captain of the forty robbers who had slain hisbrother Cassim; nor could he doubt that his perfidious aim had been todestroy him, and probably his son, with the concealed dagger. Ali Baba, who felt the new obligation he owed to Morgiana for thus saving his lifea second time, embraced her and said, "My dear Morgiana, I give youyour liberty; but my gratitude must not stop there: I will also marryyou to my son, who can esteem and admire you no less than does hisfather. " Then turning to his son, he added, "You, my son, will notrefuse the wife I offer; for, in marrying Morgiana, you take to wife thepreserver and benefactor of yourself and family. " The son, far fromshowing any dislike, readily and joyfully accepted his proposed bride, having long entertained an affection for the good slave Morgiana. Having rejoiced in their deliverance, they buried the captain that nightwith great privacy, in the trench along with his troop of robbers; and afew days afterwards, Ali Baba celebrated the marriage of his son andMorgiana with a sumptuous entertainment. Every one who knew Morgianasaid she was worthy of her good fortune, and highly commended hermaster's generosity toward her. During a twelvemonth Ali Baba forbore to go near the forest, but atlength his curiosity incited him to make another journey. When he came to the cave he saw no footsteps of either men or horses;and having said, "Open Sesame, " he went in, and judged by the state ofthings deposited in the cavern that no one had been there since thepretended Cogia Hassan had removed the merchandise to his shop in thecity. Ali Baba took as much gold home as his horse could carry. Afterwards he carried his son to the cave and taught him the secret. This secret they handed down to their posterity; and using their goodfortune with moderation, they lived in honor and splendor, and servedwith dignity some of the chief offices in the city. A quaint and interesting cycle of animal stories was formed in the Middle Ages with the fox, called Reynard, as the hero or central character. Their origin was not different from that of the cycles that grew up concerning such popular heroes as King Arthur, Robin Hood, Charlemagne, and Siegfried; but one difference at least may be observed--Reynard is always represented as evil, though clever and successful. These stories of Reynard have furnished material for many workers in the field of literature and they have generally served as a vehicle for satire. Indeed, there was much satire in the original versions of the folk. Perhaps the greatest of these modern recensions is that of the German poet Goethe. The best version for use with children is that made by Sir Henry Cole ("Felix Summerley") and edited more recently by Joseph Jacobs in his usual masterly fashion. The introduction to this edition gives just the facts that the reader needs for understanding the significance of the Reynard cycle. 399 It may be noted that King Lion, after hearing many complaints about Reynard's evil ways, decides to bring him to court for trial. The first special constable sent to summon Reynard was Bruin the Bear, and now we are to learn-- HOW BRUIN THE BEAR SPED WITH REYNARD THE FOX The next morning away went _Bruin_ the bear in quest of the fox, armedagainst all plots of deceit whatsoever. And as he came through a darkforest, in which _Reynard_ had a bypath, which he used when he washunted, he saw a high mountain, over which he must pass to go to_Malepardus_. For though _Reynard_ has many houses, yet _Malepardus_ ishis chiefest and most ancient castle, and in it he lay both for defenseand ease. Now at last when _Bruin_ was come to _Malepardus_, he foundthe gates close shut, at which after he had knocked, sitting on histail, he called aloud, "Sir _Reynard_, are you at home? I am _Bruin_your kinsman, whom the King hath sent to summon you to the court, toanswer many foul accusations exhibited against you, and hath taken agreat vow, that if you fail to appear to this summons, your life shallanswer your contempt, and your goods and honors shall lie confiscate athis highness's mercy. Therefore, fair kinsman, be advised of yourfriend, and go with me to the court to shun the danger that else willfall upon you. " _Reynard_, lying close by the gate, as his custom was for the warm sun'ssake, hearing those words, departed into one of his holes, for_Malepardus_ is full of many intricate and curious rooms, whichlabyrinth-wise he could pass through, when either his danger or thebenefit of any prey required the same. There he meditated awhile withhimself how he might counterplot and bring the bear to disgrace (who heknew loved him not) and himself to honor; at last he came forth, andsaid, "Dear uncle _Bruin_, you are exceeding welcome. Pardon my slownessin coming, for at your first speech I was saying my even song, anddevotion must not be neglected. Believe me, he hath done you no goodservice, nor do I thank him which hath sent you this weary and longjourney, in which your much sweat and toil far exceeds the worth of thelabor. Certainly had you not come, I had to-morrow been at the court ofmy own accord, yet at this time my sorrow is much lessened, inasmuch asyour counsel at this present may return me double benefit. Alas, cousin, could his Majesty find no meaner a messenger than your noble self toemploy in these trivial affairs? Truly it appears strange to me, especially since, next his royal self, you are of greatest renown bothin blood and riches. For my part, I would we were both at court, for Ifear our journey will be exceeding troublesome. To speak truth, since Imade mine abstinence from flesh, I have eaten such strange new meats, that my body is very much distempered, and swelleth as if it wouldbreak. " "Alas, dear cousin, " said the bear, "what meat is that which maketh youso ill?" "Uncle, " answered he, "what will it profit you to know? The meat wassimple and mean. We poor men are no lords, you know, but eat that fornecessity which others eat for wantonness; yet not to delay you, thatwhich I ate was honeycombs, great, full, and most pleasant, which, compelled by hunger, I ate too unmeasurably and am thereby infinitelydistempered. " "Ha, " quoth _Bruin_, "honeycombs? Do you make such slight respect ofthem, nephew? Why it is meat for the greatest emperor in the world. Fairnephew, help me but to some of that honey, and command me whilst I live;for one little part thereof I will be your servant everlastingly. " "Sure, " said the fox, "uncle, you but jest with me. " "But jest with you?" replied _Bruin_, "beshrew my heart then, for I amin that serious earnest, that for one lick thereat you shall make me thefaithfullest of all your kindred. " "Nay, " said the fox, "if you be in earnest, then know I will bring youwhere so much is, that ten of you shall not be able to devour it at ameal, only for your love's sake, which above all things I desire, uncle. " "Not ten of us?" said the bear, "it is impossible; for had I all thehoney betwixt _Hybla_ and _Portugal_, yet I could in a short space eatit all myself. " "Then know, uncle, " quoth the fox, "that near at hand here dwelleth ahusbandman named _Lanfert_, who is master of so much honey that youcannot consume it in seven years, which for your love and friendship'ssake I will put into your safe possession. " _Bruin_, mad upon the honey, swore, that to have one good meal thereofhe would not only be his faithful friend, but also stop the mouths ofall his adversaries. _Reynard_, smiling at his easy belief, said, "If you will have seventon, uncle, you shall have it. " These words pleased the bear so well, and made him so pleasant, that hecould not stand for laughing. Well, thought the fox, this is good fortune. Sure I will lead him wherehe shall laugh more measurably; and then said, "Uncle, we must delay notime, and I will spare no pains for your sake, which for none of my kinI would perform. " The bear gave him many thanks, and so away they went, the fox promisinghim as much honey as he could bear, but meant as many strokes as hecould undergo. In the end they came to _Lanfert's_ house, the sightwhereof made the bear rejoice. This _Lanfert_ was a stout and lustycarpenter, who the other day had brought into his yard a great oak, which, as their manner is, he began to cleave, and had struck into ittwo wedges in such wise that the cleft stood a great way open, at whichthe fox rejoiced much, for it was answerable to his wish. So with alaughing countenance he said to the bear, "Behold now, dear uncle, andbe careful of yourself, for within this tree is so much honey that it isunmeasurable. Try if you can get into it; yet, good uncle, eatmoderately, for albeit the combs are sweet and good, yet a surfeit isdangerous, and may be troublesome to your body, which I would not for aworld, since no harm can come to you but must be my dishonor. " "Sorrow not for me, nephew _Reynard_, " said the bear, "nor think me sucha fool that I cannot temper mine appetite. " "It is true, my best uncle, I was too bold. I pray you enter in at theend, and you shall find your desire. " The bear with all haste entered the tree, with his two feet forward, andthrust his head into the cleft, quite over the ears, which when the foxperceived, he instantly ran and pulled the wedges out of the tree, sothat he locked the bear fast therein, and then neither flattery noranger availed the bear. For the nephew had by his deceit brought theuncle into so false a prison that it was impossible by any art to freehimself of the same. Alas, what profited now his great strength andvalor? Why, they were both causes of more vexation; and finding himselfdestitute of all relief, he began to howl and bray, and with scratchingand tumbling to make such a noise that _Lanfert_, amazed, came hastilyout of his house, having in his hand a sharp hook, whilst the bear laywallowing and roaring within the tree. The fox from afar off said to the bear in scorn and mocking, "Is thehoney good, uncle, which you eat? How do you? Eat not too much, Ibeseech you. Pleasant things are apt to surfeit, and you may hinder yourjourney to the court. When _Lanfert_ cometh (if your belly be full) hewill give you drink to digest it, and wash it down your throat. " And having thus said, he went towards his castle. But by this time, _Lanfert_, finding the bear fast taken in the tree, he ran to hisneighbors and desired them to come into his yard, for there was a bearfast taken there. This was noised through all the town, so that therewas neither man, nor woman, nor child but ran thither, some with oneweapon, and some with another--as goads, rakes, broom-staves, or whatthey could gather up. The priest had the handle of the cross, the clerkthe holy water sprinkler, and the priest's wife, Dame _Jullock_, withher distaff, for she was then spinning; nay, the old beldames came thathad ne'er a tooth in their heads. This army put _Bruin_ into a greatfear, being none but himself to withstand them, and hearing the clamorof the noise which came thundering upon him, he wrestled and pulled soextremely that he got out his head, but he left behind him all the skin, and his ears also; insomuch that never creature beheld a fouler or moredeformed beast. For the blood covering all his face, and his handsleaving the claws and skin behind them, nothing remained but ugliness. It was an ill market the bear came to, for he lost both motion andsight--that is, feet and eyes. But notwithstanding this torment, _Lanfert_, the priest, and the whole parish came upon him, and sobecudgeled him about his body part, that it might well be a warning toall his misery, to know that ever the weakest shall still go most to thewall. This the bear found by experience, for every one exercised theheight of their fury upon him. Even _Houghlin_ with the crooked leg, and_Ludolf_ with the long broad nose, the one with a leaden mall, and theother with an iron whip, all belashed poor sir _Bruin_; not so much butsir _Bertolf_ with the long fingers, _Lanfert_ and _Ortam_ did him moreannoyance than all the rest, the one having a sharp Welsh hook, theother a crooked staff well leaded at the end, which he used to play atstab ball withal. There was _Birkin_ and _Armes Ablequack_, _Bane_ thepriest with his staff, and Dame _Jullock_ his wife; all these sobelabored the bear, that his life was in great danger. The poor bear inthis massacre sat and sighed extremely, groaning under the burden oftheir strokes, of which _Lanfert's_ were the greatest and thundered mostdreadfully; for Dame _Podge_ of _Casport_ was his mother, and his fatherwas _Marob_ the steeple-maker, a passing stout man when he was alone. _Bruin_ received of him many showers of stones till _Lanfert's_ brother, rushing before the rest with a staff, struck the bear in the head such ablow that he could neither hear nor see, so that awaking from hisastonishment the bear leaped into the river adjoining, through a clusterof wives there standing together, of which he threw divers into thewater, which was large and deep, amongst whom the parson's wife was one;which the parson seeing how she floated like a sea-mew, he left strikingthe bear, and cried to the rest of the company, "Help! oh, help! Dame_Jullock_ is in the water; help, both men and women, for whosoever savesher, I give free pardon of all their sins and transgressions, and remitall penance imposed whatsoever. " This heard, every one left the bear tohelp Dame _Jullock_, which as soon as the bear saw, he cut the streamand swam away as fast as he could, but the priest with a great noisepursued him, crying in his rage, "Turn, villain, that I may be revengedof thee"; but the bear swam in the strength of the stream and suspectednot his calling, for he was proud that he was so escaped from them. Onlyhe bitterly cursed the honey tree and the fox, which had not onlybetrayed him, but had made him lose his hood from his face, and hisgloves from his fingers. In this sort he swam some three miles down thewater, in which time he grew so weary that he went on land to get ease, where blood trickled down his face; he groaned, sighed, and drew hisbreath so short, as if his last hour had been expiring. Now whilst these things were in doing, the fox in his way home stole afat hen, and threw her into his mail, and running through a bypath thatno man might perceive him, he came towards the river with infinite joy;for he suspected that the bear was certainly slain: therefore he said tohimself, "My fortune is as I wished it, for the greatest enemy I had inthe court is now dead, nor can any man suspect me guilty thereof. " Butas he spake these words, looking towards the river, he espied where_Bruin_ the bear lay and rested, which struck his heart with grief, andhe railed against _Lanfert_ the carpenter, saying, "Silly fool that thouart, what madman would have lost such good venison, especially being sofat and wholesome, and for which he took no pains, for he was taken tohis hand; any man would have been proud of the fortune which thouneglectest. " Thus fretting and chiding, he came to the river, where hefound the bear all wounded and bloody, of which _Reynard_ was onlyguilty; yet in scorn he said to the bear, "_Monsieur, Dieu vous garde_. " "O thou foul red villain, " said the bear to himself, "what impudence islike to this?" But the fox went on with his speech, and said, "What, uncle? Have youforgot anything at _Lanfert's_, or have you paid him for the honeycombsyou stole? If you have not, it will redound much to your disgrace, whichbefore you shall undergo, I will pay him for them myself. Sure the honeywas excellent good, and I know much more of the same price. Good uncle, tell me before I go, into what order do you mean to enter, that you wearthis new-fashioned hood? Will you be a monk, an abbot, or a friar?Surely he that shaved your crown hath cropped your ears; also yourforetop is lost, and your gloves are gone; fie, sloven, go notbare-handed; they say you can sing _peccavi_ rarely. " These taunts made _Bruin_ mad with rage, but because he could not takerevenge, he was content to let him talk his pleasure. Then after a smallrest he plunged again into the river, and swam down the stream, andlanded on the other side, where he began with much grief to meditate howhe might get to the court, for he had lost his ears, his talons, and allthe skin off his feet, so that had a thousand deaths followed him, hecould not go. Yet of necessity he must move, that in the end compelledby extremity, he set his tail on the ground, and tumbled his body overand over; so by degrees, tumbling now half a mile, and then half a mile, in the end he tumbled to the court, where divers beholding his strangemanner of approach, they thought some prodigy had come towards them;but in the end the King knew him, and grew angry, saying, "It is sir_Bruin_, my servant; what villains have wounded him thus, or where hathhe been that he brings his death thus along with him?" "O my dread Sovereign Lord the King, " cried out the bear, "I complain megrievously unto you; behold how I am massacred, which I humbly beseechyou revenge on that false _Reynard_, who, for doing your royal pleasure, hath brought me to this disgrace and slaughter. " Then said the King, "How durst he do this? Now by my crown I swear Iwill take the revenge which shall make the traitors tremble!" Whereupon the King sent for all his council, and consulted how and inwhat sort to persecute against the fox, where it was generally concludedthat he should be again summoned to appear and answer his trespasses;and the party to summon him they appointed to be _Tibert_ the cat, aswell for his gravity as wisdom; all which pleased the King well. 400 After many ups and downs in fortune Reynard is finally on good terms with the king when Isegrim the Wolf appears with another accusation. Reynard's denial of the charges led the Wolf to challenge him to mortal combat, a well known medieval way of settling the truth of conflicting evidence. The result appears in the following: THE BATTLE BETWEEN THE FOX AND THE WOLF The fox answered not a word, but bowing himself down humbly to theearth, both before the King and the Queen's Majesties, went forth intothe field; and at the same time the wolf was also ready, and stoodboasting, and giving out many proud and vainglorious speeches. Themarshals and rulers of the lists were the leopard and the loss. Thesebrought forth a book, on which the wolf swore and maintained hisassertion that the fox was a traitor and a murderer, which he wouldprove on his body, or else be counted a recreant. Then _Reynard_ tookthe book, and swore he lied as a false traitor and a thief, which hewould prove on his body, or be accounted a recreant. When these ceremonies were done, the marshals of the field bade them dotheir devoir. And then every creature avoided the lists, save Dame_Rukenaw_, who stood by the fox, and bade him remember the words andinstructions she had given him, and call to mind how, when he was scarceseven years old, he had then wisdom enough to pass the darkest nightwithout lantern or candle-light, or the help of the moon, when anyoccasion required him; and that his experience was much greater, and hisreputation of wisdom more frequent with his companions; and therefore towork so as he might win the day, which would be an eternal monument tohim and his family for ever. To this the fox answered, "My best aunt, assure yourself I will do mybest, and not forget a tittle of your counsel. I doubt not but myfriends shall reap honor and my foes shame by my actions. " To this theape said amen, and so departed. When none but the combatants were in the lists, the wolf went toward thefox with infinite rage and fury, and thinking to take the fox in hisforefeet, the fox leaped nimbly from him and the wolf pursued him, sothat there began a tedious chase between them, on which their friendsgazed. The wolf taking larger strides than the fox often overtook him, and lifting up his feet to strike him, the fox avoided the blow andsmote him on the face with his tail, so that the wolf was strickenalmost blind, and he was forced to rest while he cleared his eyes; whichadvantage when _Reynard_ saw, he scratched up the dust with his feet, and threw it in the eyes of the wolf. This grieved him worse than the former, so that he durst follow him nolonger, for the dust and sand sticking in his eyes smarted so sore, thatof force he must rub and wash it away, which _Reynard_ seeing, with allthe fury he had he ran upon him, and with his teeth gave him three sorewounds on his head, and scoffing said, "Have I hit you, Mr. Wolf? I willyet hit you better; you have killed many a lamb and many an innocentbeast, and would impose the fault upon me, but you shall find the priceof your knavery. I am marked to punish thy sins, and I will give theethy absolution bravely. It is good for thee that thou use patience, forthy evil life is at my mercy. Yet, notwithstanding, if thou wilt kneeldown and ask my forgiveness, and confess thyself vanquished, though thoube the worst thing living, yet I will spare thy life, for my pity makesme loath to kill thee. " These words made _Isegrim_ both mad and desperate, so that he knew nothow to express his fury; his wounds bled, his eyes smarted, and hiswhole body was oppressed. So that in the height of his fury he lifted uphis foot and struck the fox so great a blow that he felled him to theground. But _Reynard_, being nimble, quickly rose up again andencountered the wolf, that between them began a dreadful and doubtfulcombat. The wolf was exceeding furious, and ten times he leaped to catch_Reynard_ fast, but his skin was so slippery and oily he could not holdhim. Nay, so wondrous nimble was he in the fight, that when the wolfthought to have him surest, he would shift himself between his legs andunder his belly, and every time gave the wolf a bite with his teeth, ora slap on the face with his tail, that the poor wolf found nothing butdespair in the conflict, albeit his strength was much the greater. Thus many wounds and bitings passing on either side, the one expressingcunning, and the other strength; the one fury, the other temperance. Inthe end the wolf being enraged that the battle had continued so long, for had his feet been sound it had been much shorter, he said tohimself, "I will make an end of this combat, for I know my very weightis able to crush him to pieces; and I lose much of my reputation, tosuffer him thus long to contend against me. " And this said, he struck the fox again so sore a blow on the head withhis foot, that he fell down to the ground, and ere he could recoverhimself and arise, he caught him in his feet and threw him under him, lying upon him in such wise, as if he would have pressed him to death. Now began the fox to be grievously afraid, and all his friends also, andall _Isegrim's_ friends began to shout for joy; but the fox defendedhimself as well as he could with his claws, lying along, and the wolfcould not hurt him with his claws, his feet were so sore; only with histeeth he snatched at him to bite him, which, when the fox saw, he smotethe wolf on the head with his fore-claws, so that he tore the skinbetween his brows and his ears, and one of his eyes hung out of hishead, which put the wolf to infinite torment, and he howled outextremely. Then _Isegrim_ wiping his face, the fox took advantagethereof, and with his struggling got upon his feet. At which the wolf was angry, and striking after him, caught the fox inhis arms, and held him fast; never was _Reynard_ in so great a strait asthen, for at that time great was their contention; but anger now madethe wolf forget his smart, and gripping the fox altogether under him, as_Reynard_ was defending himself his hand lighted into _Isegrim's_ mouth, so that he was in danger of losing it. Then said the wolf to the fox, "Now either yield thyself as vanquished, or else certainly I will killthee; neither thy dust, thy mocks, nor any subtle invention shall nowsave thee; thou art now left utterly desperate, and my wounds must havetheir satisfaction. " When the fox heard this he thought it was a hard election, for bothbrought his ruin; and suddenly concluding, he said, "Dear uncle, sincefortune commands me, I yield to be your servant, and at yourcommandments will travel for you to the Holy Land, or any otherpilgrimage, or do any service which shall be beneficial to your soul orthe souls of your forefathers. I will do for the King or for our holyfather the Pope, I will hold of you my lands and revenues, and as I, soshall all the rest of my kindred; so that you shall be a lord of manylords, and none shall dare to move against you. "Besides, whatsoever I get of pullets, geese, partridges, or clover, flesh or fish, you, your wife, and children shall have the first choice, ere any are eaten by me. I will ever stand by your side, and wheresoeveryou go, no danger shall come near you; you are strong, and I am subtle;we two joined together, what force can prevail against us? Again, we areso near in blood that nature forbids there should be any enmity betweenus; I would not have fought against you had I been sure of victory, butthat you first appealed me, and then you know of necessity I must do myuttermost. I have also in this battle been courteous to you, and notshown my worst violence, as I would on a stranger, for I know it is theduty of a nephew to spare his uncle; and this you might well perceive bymy running from you. I tell you, it was an action much contrary to mynature, for I might often have hurt you when I refused, nor are youworse for me by anything more than the blemish of your eye, for which Iam sorry, and wished it had not happened; yet thereby know that youshall reap rather benefit than loss thereby, for when other beasts intheir sleep shut two windows, you shall shut but one. "As for my wife, children, and lineage, they shall fall down at yourfeet before you in any presence; therefore, I humbly desire you, thatyou will suffer poor _Reynard_ to live. I know you will kill me, butwhat will that avail you, when you shall never live in safety for fearof revengement of my kindred? Therefore, temperance in any man's wrathis excellent, whereas rashness is ever the mother of repentance. But, uncle, I know you to be valiant, wise, and discreet, and you rather seekhonor, peace, and good fame than blood and revenge. " _Isegrim_ the wolf said, "Infinite dissembler, how fain wouldst thou befreed of my servitude? Too well I understand thee, and know that ifthou wert safe on thy feet thou wouldst forswear this submission; butknow all the wealth in the world shall not buy out thy ransom, for theeand thy friends I esteem them not, nor believe anything thou hastuttered. Too well I know thee, and am no bird for thy lime bush; chaffcannot deceive me. Oh, how wouldst thou triumph if I should believethee, and say I wanted wit to understand thee; but thou shalt know I canlook both on this side and beyond thee. Thy many deceits used upon mehave now armed me against thee. Thou sayest thou hast spared me in thebattle; but look upon me, and my wounds will show how falsely thouliest; thou never gavest me a time to breathe in, nor will I now givethee a minute to repent in. " Now whilst _Isegrim_ was thus talking, the fox bethought himself how hemight best get free, and thrusting his other hand down he caught thewolf fast by the neck, and he wrung him so extremely hard thereby, thathe made him shriek and howl out with the anguish; then the fox drew hisother hand out of his mouth, for the wolf was in such wondrous tormentthat he had much ado to contain himself from swooning; for this tormentexceeded above the pain of his eye, and in the end he fell over and overin a swoon; then presently _Reynard_ leaped upon him, and drew him aboutthe lists and dragged him by the legs, and struck, wounded, and bit himin many places, so that all the whole field might take notice thereof. At this, all _Isegrim's_ friends were full of sorrow, and with greatweeping and lamentation went to the King and prayed him to be pleased toappease the combat and take it into his own hands; which suit the Kinggranted, and then the leopard and the loss, being marshals, entered thelists and told the fox and the wolf that the King would speak with them, and that the battle should there end, for he would take it into his ownhands and determine thereof; as for themselves they had donesufficiently, neither would the King lose either of them. And to the foxthey said the whole field gave him the victory. The greatest and most inspiring cycle of medieval romances is that concerned with the adventures of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. Developing largely as separate stories, these romances were brought together into an organic collection by Sir Thomas Malory in the third quarter of the fifteenth century. This work, called _Le Morte D'Arthur_, has remained the standard Arthuriad and is the source of most modern versions. It is one of the great monuments of English prose, and, while at first the strangeness of its style may repel, the wonderful dignity of the story and the sonorous quality of the language make a strong appeal to children as well as to older readers. Teachers should at least be acquainted with a portion of Malory, and the three selections following are taken from his text. No. 404 is added as a suggestion as to how this material may be worked up to tell to children. 401 According to a tradition in _Le Morte D'Arthur_, Uther Pendragon, the father of Arthur, was a powerful king in England. To fulfill a promise made to Merlin, Uther Pendragon allowed Merlin to take Arthur on the day of his birth, that the child might not be known as the son of the king. Merlin took the child to Sir Ector, and the wife of Sir Ector reared Arthur as one of her own children. The following story is an account of how Arthur learned of his parentage. HOW ARTHUR BECAME KING SIR THOMAS MALORY After the death of Uther Pendragon, stood the realm in great jeopardylong while, for every lord that was mighty of men made him strong, andmany weened to have been king. Then Merlin went to the Archbishop ofCanterbury and counselled him to send for all the lords of the realm andall the gentlemen of arms, that they should to London come by Christmas. So the Archbishop, by the advice of Merlin, sent for all the lords andgentlemen of arms that they should come by Christmas even unto London. So in the greatest church of London, whether it were Paul's or not theFrench book maketh no mention, all the estates were long or day in thechurch for to pray. And when matins and the first mass were done, therewas seen in the churchyard, against the high altar, a great stone foursquare, like unto a marble stone, and in midst thereof was like an anvilof steel a foot on high, and therein stuck a fair sword, and lettersthere were written in gold about the sword that said thus: "Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone and anvil, is rightwise king born of all England. " Then the people marveled and told it to the Archbishop. "I command, "said the Archbishop, "that you keep you within your church, and prayunto God still; that no man touch the sword till the high mass be alldone. " So when all masses were done, all the lords went to behold the stone andthe sword. And when they saw the scripture, some assayed; such as wouldhave been king. But none might stir the sword nor move it. "He is nothere, " said the Archbishop, "that shall achieve the sword, but doubt notGod will make him known. But this is my counsel, " said the Archbishop, "that we provide ten knights, men of good fame, and they to keep thissword. " So it was ordained, and there was made a cry, that every man shouldessay that would, for to win the sword. And upon New Year's Day thebarons let make a jousts and a tournament, that all knights that wouldjoust or tourney there might play, and all this was ordained for to keepthe lords and the commons together, for the Archbishop trusted that Godwould make him known that should win the sword. So upon New Year's Day, when the service was done, the barons rode unto the field, some to joustand some to tourney, and so it happened that Sir Ector rode unto thejousts, and with him rode Sir Kay his son, and young Arthur that was hisnourished brother; and Sir Kay had been made knight at All Hallowmassafore. So as they rode to the joustsward, Sir Kay had lost his sword, for hehad left it at his father's lodging, and so he prayed young Arthur forto ride for his sword. "I will well, " said Arthur, and rode fast afterthe sword, and when he came home, the lady and all were out to see thejousting. Then was Arthur wroth, and said to himself, "I will ride tothe churchyard and take the sword with me that sticketh in the stone, for my brother Sir Kay shall not be without a sword this day. " So whenhe came to the churchyard, Sir Arthur alit and tied his horse to thestile, and so he went to the tent and found no knights there, for theywere at jousting; and so he handled the sword by the handles, andlightly and fiercely pulled it out of the stone, and took his horse androde his way until he came to his brother Sir Kay, and delivered him thesword. As soon as Sir Kay saw the sword, he wist well it was the sword of thestone, and so he rode to his father, Sir Ector, and said, "Sir, lo hereis the sword of the stone, wherefore I must be king of this land. " When Sir Ector beheld the sword, he returned again and came to thechurch, and there they alit, all three, and went into the church. Andanon he made Sir Kay to swear upon a book how he came to that sword. "Sir, " said Sir Kay, "by my brother Arthur, for he brought it to me. " "How gat ye this sword?" said Sir Ector to Arthur. "Sir, I will tell you. When I came home for my brother's sword, I foundnobody at home to deliver me his sword, and so I thought my brother SirKay should not be swordless, and so I came hither eagerly and pulled itout of the stone without any pain. " "Found ye any knights about this sword?" said Sir Ector. "Nay, " said Arthur. "Now, " said Sir Ector to Arthur, "I understand ye must be king of thisland. " "Wherefore I, " said Arthur, "and for what cause?" "Sir, " said Ector, "for God will have it so, for there should never manhave drawn out this sword, but he that shall be rightways king of thisland. Now let me see whether ye can put the sword there as it was andpull it out again. " "That is no mastery, " said Arthur, and so he put it in the stone;therewithal Sir Ector essayed to pull out the sword and failed. "Now essay, " said Sir Ector unto Sir Kay. And anon he pulled at thesword with all his might, but it would not be. "Now shall ye essay, " said Ector to Arthur. "I will well, " said Arthur, and pulled it out easily. And therewithalSir Ector knelt down to the earth, and Sir Kay. "Alas, " said Arthur, "myown dear father and brother, why kneel ye to me?" "Nay, nay, my lord Arthur, it is not so. I was never your father nor ofyour blood, but I wot well ye are of an higher blood than I weened yewere. " And then Sir Ector told him all, how he had taken him for tonourish him, and by whose commandment, and by Merlin's deliverance. ThenArthur made great doole when he understood that Sir Ector was not hisfather. "Sir, " said Ector unto Arthur, "will ye be my good and gracious lordwhen ye are king?" "Else were I to blame, " said Arthur, "for ye are the man in the worldthat I am most beholden to, and my good lady and mother your wife, thatas well as her own hath fostered me and kept. And if ever it be God'swill that I be king as ye say, God forbid that I should fail you. " "Sir, " said Sir Ector, "I will ask no more of you but that ye will makemy son, your foster brother, Sir Kay, seneschal of all your lands. " "That shall be done, " said Arthur, "and more, by the faith of my body, that never man shall have that office but he, while he and I live. " Therewithal they went unto the Archbishop and told him how the sword wasachieved, and by whom; and on the Twelfth-day all the barons camethither, and to essay to take the sword, who that would essay. But thereafore them all, there might none take it out but Arthur; whereforethere were many lords wroth, and said it was great shame unto them alland the realm to be over-governed with a boy of no high blood born, andso they fell out at that time that it was put off until Candlemas, andthen all the barons should meet there again; but always the ten knightswere ordained to watch the sword day and night, and so they set apavilion over the stone and the sword, and five always watched. So atCandlemas many more great lords came thither for to have won the sword, but there might none prevail. And right as Arthur did at Christmas, hedid at Candlemas, and pulled out the sword easily, whereof the baronswere sore agrieved and put it off in delay till the high feast ofEaster, yet there were some of the great lords had indignation thatArthur should be king, and put it off in a delay till the feast ofPentecost. And at the feast of Pentecost all manner of men essayed topull at the sword that would essay, but none might prevail but Arthur, and he pulled it out afore all the lords and commons that were there, wherefore all the commons cried at once, "We will have Arthur unto ourking. We will put him no more in delay, for we all see that it is God'swill that he shall be our king, and who that holdeth against it, we willslay him. " And therewith they all kneeled at once, both rich and poor, and cried Arthur mercy because they had delayed him so long, and Arthurforgave them, and took the sword between both his hands, and offered itupon the altar where the Archbishop was, and so was he made knight ofthe best man that was there. And so anon was the coronation made. Andthere was he sworn unto his lords and the commons for to be a true kingand to stand with true justice from thenceforth the days of his life. 402 After Arthur was made king, he spent several years in war with his lawless barons before he finally established a stable government in England. Malory's accounts of these wars are interspersed with stories of miraculous incidents, accounts of the adventures of knights, and descriptions of feasts, tournaments, and jousts. The following is a description of the jousting between the knights of King Arthur and those of two French kings, Ban and Bors, who had come to aid Arthur in his wars. A TOURNEY WITH THE FRENCH SIR THOMAS MALORY Then the king let purvey for a great feast, and let cry a great jousts. And by All Hallowmass the two kings were come over the sea with threehundred knights well arrayed both for peace and for war. And King Arthurmet with them ten miles out of London, and there was great joy as couldbe thought or made. And on All Hallowmass at the great feast, sat in thehall the three kings, and Sir Kay seneschal served in the hall, and SirLucas the butler, and Sir Griflet. These three knights had the rule ofall the service that served the kings. And anon, as they had washed andrisen, all knights that would joust made them ready. By when they wereready on horseback there were seven hundred knights. And Arthur, Ban, and Bors, with the Archbishop of Canterbury, and Sir Ector, Kay'sfather, they were in a place covered with cloth of gold like an hall, with ladies and gentlewomen, for to behold who did the best, and thereonto give judgment. And King Arthur and the two kings let depart the seven hundred knightsinto two parties. And there were three hundred knights of the realm ofBenwick and of Gaul turned on the other side. Then they dressed theirshields, and began to couch their spears many good knights. So Grifletwas the first that met with a knight, one Ladinas, and they met soeagerly that all men had wonder; and they so fought that their shieldsfell to pieces, and horse and man fell to the earth; and both Frenchknight and English knight lay so long that all men weened they had beendead. When Lucas the butler saw Griflet so lie, he horsed him againanon, and they two did marvelous deeds of arms with many bachelors. AlsoSir Kay came out of an enbushment with five knights with him, and theysix smote other six down. But Sir Kay did that day marvelous deeds ofarms that there was none did so well as he that day. Then there comeLadinas and Gracian, two knights of France, and did passing well, thatall men praised them. Then come there Sir Placidas, a good knight, andmet with Sir Kay, and smote him down horse and man, wherefore SirGriflet was wroth, and met with Sir Placidas so hard that horse and manfell to the earth. But when the five knights wist that Sir Kay had afall, they were wroth out of wit, and therewith each of them five baredown a knight. When King Arthur and the two kings saw them begin to waxwroth on both parties, they leaped on small hackneys and let cry thatall men should depart unto their lodging. And so they went home andunarmed them, and so to evensong and supper. And after, the three kingswent into a garden and gave the prize unto Sir Kay, and to Lucas thebutler, and unto Sir Griflet. 403 One part of _Le Morte D'Arthur_ will illustrate almost as well as another the nature of the adventure stories that grew up in the Middle Ages regarding the traditional heroes of chivalry. The following selection is taken from the first part of the book. ADVENTURES OF ARTHUR SIR THOMAS MALORY Then on a day there came in the court a squire on horseback, leading aknight before him wounded to the death. He said, "There is a knight inthe forest who hath reared up a pavilion by a well, and hath slain mymaster, a good knight whose name was Miles; wherefore I beseech you thatmy master may be buried, and that some knight may revenge my master'sdeath. " Then the noise was great of that knight's death in the court, and everyman said his advice. Then came Griflet that was but a squire, and he wasbut young, of the age of King Arthur; so he besought the king for allhis service that he had done him to give him the order of knighthood. "Thou art full young and tender of age, " said Arthur, "for to take sohigh an order on thee. " "Sir, " said Griflet, "I beseech you make me knight. " "Sir, " said Merlin, "it were great pity to lose Griflet, for he will bea passing good man when he is of age, abiding with you the term of hislife. And if he adventure his body with yonder knight at the fountain, it is in great peril if ever he come again, for he is one of the bestknights in the world, and the strongest man of arms. " "Well, " said Arthur. So at the desire of Griflet the king made himknight. "Now, " said Arthur unto Sir Griflet, "sith I have made youknight thou must give me a gift. " "What ye will, " said Griflet. "Thou shalt promise me by the faith of thy body, when thou hast joustedwith the knight at the fountain, whether it fall ye to be on foot or onhorseback, that right so ye shall come again unto me without making anymore debate. " "I will promise you, " said Griflet, "as you desire. " Then took Griflet his horse in great haste, and dressed his shield andtook a spear in his hand, and so he rode at a great wallop till he cameto the fountain, and thereby he saw a rich pavilion, and thereby under acloth stood a fair horse well saddled and bridled, and on a tree ashield of divers colors and a great spear. Then Griflet smote on theshield with the butt of his spear, that the shield fell down to theground. With that the knight came out of the pavilion and said, "Fairknight, why smote ye down my shield?" "For I will joust with you, " said Griflet. "It is better ye do not, " said the knight, "for ye are but young, andlate made knight, and your might is nothing to mine. " "As for that, " said Griflet, "I will joust with you. " "That is me loath, " said the knight, "but sith I must needs, I willdress me thereto. Of whence be ye?" said the knight. "Sir, I am of Arthur's court. " So the two knights ran together that Griflet's spear all to-shivered;and therewithal he smote Griflet through the shield and the left side, and brake the spear that the truncheon stuck in his body, that horse andknight fell down. When the knight saw him lie so on the ground, he alit, and was passingheavy, for he weened he had slain him, and then he unlaced his helm andgat him wind, and so with the truncheon he set him on his horse and gathim wind, and so betook him to God, and said he had a mighty heart, andif he might live he would prove a passing good knight. And so SirGriflet rode to the court, where great dole was made for him. Butthrough good leeches he was healed and saved. Right so came into the court twelve knights, who were aged men, and theycame from the Emperor of Rome, and they asked of Arthur truage for thisrealm, other-else the emperor would destroy him and his land. "Well, " said King Arthur, "ye are messengers, therefore ye may say whatye will, other-else ye should die therefore. But this is mine answer: Iowe the emperor no truage, nor none will I hold him, but on a fair fieldI shall give him my truage that shall be with a sharp spear, or elsewith a sharp sword, and that shall not be long. " And therewith the messengers departed passingly wroth, and King Arthuras wroth, for in evil time came they then; for the king was passinglywroth for the hurt of Sir Griflet. And so he commanded a privy man ofhis chamber that or it be day his best horse and armor with all thatlongeth unto his person, be without the city or to-morrow day. Right soor to-morrow day he met with his man and his horse, and so mounted upand dressed his shield and took his spear, and bade his chamberlaintarry there till he came again. And so Arthur rode a soft pace till itwas day, and then was he ware of three churls chasing Merlin, and wouldhave slain him. Then the king rode unto them and bade them, "Flee, churls!" Then were they afeard when they saw a knight, and fled. "O Merlin, " said Arthur, "here hadst thou been slain for all thy craftshad I not been. " "Nay, " said Merlin, "not so, for I could save myself an I would; andthou art more near thy death than I am, for thou goest to the deathward, an God be not thy friend. " So as they went thus talking they came to the fountain and the richpavilion there by it. Then King Arthur was ware where sat a knight armedin a chair. "Sir knight, " said Arthur, "for what cause abidest thouhere, that there may no knight ride this way but he joust with thee? Irede thee leave that custom, " said Arthur. "This custom, " said the knight, "have I used and will use maugre whosaith nay, and who is grieved with my custom let him amend it thatwill. " "I will amend it, " said Arthur. "I shall defend thee, " said the knight. Anon he took his horse and dressed his shield and took a spear, and theymet so hard either on other's shield, that all to-shivered their spears. Therewith anon Arthur pulled out his sword. "Nay, not so, " said theknight; "it is fairer that we twain run more together with sharpspears. " "I will well, " said Arthur, "an I had any more spears. " "I have enow, " said the knight, so there came a squire and brought twogood spears, and Arthur chose one and he another; so they spurred theirhorses and came together with all their mights, that either brake theirspears to their hands. Then Arthur set hand on his sword. "Nay, " saidthe knight, "ye shall do better. Ye are a passing good jouster as ever Imet withal, and once more for the love of the high order of knighthoodlet us joust once again. " "I assent me, " said Arthur. Anon there were brought two great spears, and every knight gat a spear, and therewith they ran together that Arthur's spear all to-shivered. Butthe other knight hit him so hard in midst of the shield that horse andman fell to the earth, and therewith Arthur was eager, and pulled outhis sword and said, "I will assay thee, sir knight, on foot, for I havelost the honor on horseback. " "I will be on horseback, " said the knight. Then was Arthur wroth, and dressed his shield toward him with his sworddrawn. When the knight saw that, he alit, for him thought no worship tohave a knight at such avail, he to be on horseback and he on foot, andso he alit and dressed his shield unto Arthur. And there began a strongbattle with many great strokes, and so hewed with their swords that thecantels flew in the fields, and much blood they bled both, that all theplace there as they fought was overbled with blood, and thus they foughtlong and rested them, and then they went to battle again, and so hurtledtogether like two rams that either fell to the earth. So at the lastthey smote together that both their swords met even together. But thesword of the knight smote King Arthur's sword in two pieces, whereforehe was heavy. Then said the knight unto Arthur, "Thou art in my daungerwhether me list to save thee or slay thee, and but thou yield thee asovercome and recreant, thou shalt die. " "As for death, " said King Arthur, "welcome be it when it cometh, but toyield me unto thee as recreant I had liefer die than be so shamed. " And therewithal the king leaped unto Pellinore, and took him by themiddle and threw him down, and raised off his helm. When the knight feltthat, he was adread, for he was a passing big man of might, and anon hebrought Arthur under him, and raised off his helm and would have smittenoff his head. Therewithal came Merlin and said, "Knight, hold thy hand, for an thouslay that knight thou puttest this realm in the greatest damage thatever was realm; for this knight is a man of more worship that thouwotest of. " "Why, who is he?" said the knight. "It is King Arthur. " Then would he have slain him for dread of his wrath, and heaved up hissword, and therewith Merlin cast an enchantment to the knight, that hefell to the earth in a great sleep. Then Merlin took up King Arthur, androde forth on the knight's horse. "Alas!" said Arthur, "what hast thou done, Merlin? Hast thou slain thisgood knight by thy crafts? There liveth not so worshipful a knight as hewas; I had liefer than the stint of my land a year that he were alive. " "Care ye not, " said Merlin, "for he is wholer than ye; for he is butasleep, and will awake within three hours. I told you, " said Merlin, "what a knight he was; here had ye been slain had I not been. Also thereliveth not a bigger knight than he is one, and he shall hereafter do youright good service; and his name is Pellinore, and he shall have twosons that shall be passing good men; save one they shall have no fellowof prowess and of good living, and their names shall be Percivale ofWales and Lamerake of Wales. " Right so the king and he departed and went unto an hermit that was agood man and a great leech. So the hermit searched all his wounds andgave him good salves; so the king was there three days, and then werehis wounds well amended that he might ride and go, and so departed. And as they rode, Arthur said, "I have no sword. " "No force, " said Merlin, "hereby is a sword that shall be yours, an Imay. " So they rode till they came to a lake, the which was a fair water andbroad, and in the midst of the lake Arthur was ware of an arm clothed inwhite samite, that held a fair sword in that hand. "Lo!" said Merlin, "yonder is that sword that I spake of. " With that they saw a damosel going upon the lake. "What damosel isthat?" said Arthur. "That is the Lady of the Lake, " said Merlin; "and within that lake is arock, and therein is as fair a place as any on earth, and richly beseen;and this damosel will come to you anon, and then speak ye fair to herthat she will give you that sword. " Anon withal came the damosel unto Arthur and saluted him, and he heragain. "Damosel, " said Arthur, "what sword is that, that yonder the armholdeth above the water? I would it were mine, for I have no sword. " "Sir Arthur, king, " said the damosel, "that sword is mine, and if yewill give me a gift when I ask it you, ye shall have it. " "By my faith, " said Arthur, "I will give you what gift ye will ask. " "Well!" said the damosel. "Go ye into yonder barge, and row yourself tothe sword, and take it and the scabbard with you, and I will ask my giftwhen I see my time. " So Sir Arthur and Merlin alit and tied their horses to two trees, and sothey went into the ship, and when they came to the sword that the handheld, Sir Arthur took it up by the handles, and took it with him, andthe arm and the hand went under the water. And so they came unto theland and rode forth, and then Sir Arthur saw a rich pavilion. "What signifieth yonder pavilion?" "It is the knight's pavilion, " said Merlin, "that ye fought with last, Sir Pellinore; but he is out; he is not there. He hath ado with a knightof yours that hight Egglame, and they have foughten together, but at thelast Egglame fled, and else he had been dead, and he hath chased himeven to Carlion, and we shall meet with him anon in the highway. " "That is well said, " said Arthur, "now have I a sword; now will I wagebattle with him, and be avenged on him. " "Sir, you shall not so, " said Merlin, "for the knight is weary offighting and chasing, so that ye shall have no worship to have ado withhim; also he will not be lightly matched of one knight living, andtherefore it is my counsel, let him pass, for he shall do you goodservice in short time, and his sons after his days. Also ye shall seethat day in short space, you shall be right glad to give him your sisterto wed. " "When I see him, I will do as ye advise me, " said Arthur. Then SirArthur looked on the sword, and liked it passing well. "Whether liketh you the better, " said Merlin, "the sword or thescabbard?" "Me liketh better the sword, " said Arthur. "Ye are more unwise, " said Merlin, "for the scabbard is worth ten of theswords, for whiles ye have the scabbard upon you, ye shall never lose noblood be ye never so sore wounded, therefore keep well the scabbardalways with you. " So they rode unto Carlion, and by the way they met with Sir Pellinore;but Merlin had done such a craft, that Pellinore saw not Arthur, and hepassed by without any words. "I marvel, " said Arthur, "that the knight would not speak. " "Sir, " said Merlin, "he saw you not, for an he had seen you, ye had notlightly departed. " So they came unto Carlion, whereof his knights were passing glad. Andwhen they heard of his adventures, they marveled that he would jeopardhis person so, alone. But all men of worship said it was merry to beunder such a chieftain, that would put his person in adventure as otherpoor knights did. This meanwhile came a messenger from King Rience of North Wales, andking he was of all Ireland, and of many isles. And this was his message, greeting well King Arthur in this manner wise, saying that King Riencehad discomfited and overcome eleven kings, and every each of them didhim homage, and that was this, they gave him their beards clean flayedoff, as much as there was; wherefore the messenger came for KingArthur's beard. For King Rience had purfled a mantle with king's beards, and there lacked one place of the mantle; wherefore he sent for hisbeard, or else he would enter his lands, and burn and slay, and neverleave till he have the head and the beard. "Well, " said Arthur, "thou hast said thy message, the which is the mostvillainous and lewdest message that ever man heard sent unto a king;also thou mayest see my beard is full young yet to make a purfle of it. But tell thou thy king this: I owe him none homage, nor none of mineelders, but or it be long to, he shall do me homage on both his knees, or else he shall lose his head, by the faith of my body, for this is themost shamefulest message that ever I heard speak of. I have espied thyking met never yet with worshipful man, but tell him I will have hishead without he do me homage. " Then the messenger departed. "Now is there any here, " said Arthur, "that knoweth King Rience?" Then answered a knight that hight Naram, "Sir, I know the king well. Heis a passing good man of his body, as few be living, and a passing proudman, and Sir, doubt ye not he will make war on you with a mightypuissance. " "Well, " said Arthur, "I shall ordain for him in short time. " 404 The story of "Arthur and Sir Accalon" is taken from Maude Radford Warren's _King Arthur and His Knights_. (By permission of the publishers, Rand McNally & Co. , Chicago. ) The stories in Malory are retold in a simple and direct style that can be read easily by children in the fifth grade. Most teachers will probably find themselves obliged to use some such book for any of these great cycles which they desire to teach, owing to the amount of time and energy required for working it up from the original source. ARTHUR AND SIR ACCALON MAUDE RADFORD WARREN There was a woman in Arthur's Court named Morgan le Fay, who had learneda great deal about magic. She was a wicked woman, and hated the kingbecause he was more powerful than she, and because he was so good. However, she pretended to be a true friend to him, and the king believedin her. One day when they were talking together, she asked him if hewould not let her take charge of his wonderful sword Excalibur, and itsscabbard. She said that she would guard them so carefully that theywould never be stolen. As she was very eager, Arthur granted herrequest. One day in time of peace, King Arthur went out hunting with a certainknight named Sir Accalon, who was the lover of Morgan le Fay. They rodefor a long time, and when they were tired, stopped to rest beside agreat lake. As they looked over its shining waters, they saw a beautifullittle ship, which sailed straight towards them, and ran up to the sandsat their feet. It was all covered with golden silks, which waved in thegentle wind. King Arthur and Sir Accalon climbed into it and examined itthoroughly, but they found no one on board. They rested on two couches which were on the deck, until it grew dark. Then they were about to return home, when all at once, a hundred torchesset on the sides of the ship were lighted, and suddenly there appearedtwelve beautiful damsels who told the two that they were welcome, andthat they should be served with a banquet. Presently the maidens led the king and the knight into a room which hada table covered with a white cloth embroidered in purple. It bore manygolden dishes, and each dish had a beautiful design carved upon it. Somedishes had vine-leaves, others ivy-leaves; some had angels with longrobes sweeping back in graceful lines; and all these dishes held choicefood. The king and Sir Accalon ate to their hearts' content. Then the damsels led them into two separate chambers. King Arthur wastired and so sleepy that he gave but one glance at his bedroom. He sawthat it was hung in red silk embroidered with gold dragons and griffins. Then he threw himself on his bed and slept very soundly. When he awoke, he found himself not in the pretty bed-chamber, but in adark place. He could see nothing, but all about him he heard the soundof complaining and weeping. He was much bewildered, but in a moment hecried: "What is this? Where am I?" Then a voice answered: "You are in prison, as we are. " "Who are you?" asked Arthur. The voice replied: "We are twenty knights, prisoners, and some of us have been here as longas seven years. We are in the dungeons of a wicked lord named Sir Damas. He has a younger brother, and the two brothers are enemies, quarrelingabout their inheritance. Now the younger brother, Sir Ontzlake, is verystrong, but Sir Damas is not strong, and moreover, he is a coward. So hetries to find a knight who will fight for him against Sir Ontzlake. "But Sir Damas is so much hated that no one will fight for him. So hegoes about the country with a body of rough men, and whenever he sees aknight, he captures him. Then he asks him to fight with Sir Ontzlake. Sofar, all the knights have refused, and have been thrown into prison. Wedo not have food enough, but we would rather die here than fight for SirDamas, who is so wicked. " At that moment a damsel entered the prison with a torch, which faintlylighted the dismal place, and advanced to the king. "Sir, " she said, "will you fight for my lord, Sir Damas? If you will, you shall be taken from this prison. If you will not, you shall diehere. " Arthur considered for some time, and then said: "I would rather fight than die in prison. If I fight, will you deliveralso all these prisoners?" The damsel promised, and Arthur consented to fight. While she went totell Sir Damas, Arthur said to the other prisoners: "My friends, I do not know Sir Damas, and I do not know Sir Ontzlake. Ido not know whether they are bad or good. But I will fight, and then, when I have conquered, I shall judge between them, and do justice toboth. " "That is a good plan, " said the knights, "but why are you so sure thatyou will conquer?" "I am Arthur, the King, " he replied. At that the knights set up a great cry of joy, and the king continued: "I shall send for my good sword Excalibur and the scabbard, and withthese I shall surely win. " So when Arthur and the knights were let out of prison, the king sent thedamsel who had visited them to Morgan le Fay for his sword andscabbard. Meantime, the knight who had accompanied Arthur on the little ship, SirAccalon, also awoke. He found himself in the palace of Morgan le Fay, and he wondered very much where Arthur was. He went to the lady, whosaid to him: "My dear lord, the day has come when you can have great power if youwant it. Should you like to be king of this land, instead of Arthur?" Now Sir Accalon was a traitor at heart. He wanted very much to be king, even if the good Arthur was to be killed; so he said: "Yes, truly. " Then she said: "You shall be king, and I shall be your queen. All you need to do is tofight a great battle, which you shall win. I have been using my magic. It was I who sent the ship of silk to you and Arthur. I had him put intoprison, and I had you brought here. " Sir Accalon wondered very much. Then she told him of the fight KingArthur was to make against Sir Ontzlake. "But I have caused Sir Ontzlake to fall sick, " she said, "and he cannotfight. I shall go with you to his castle and you can offer to fight forhim. " "I to fight with the king!" cried Sir Accalon. "He would surelyoverthrow me. " "He cannot, " said Morgan le Fay, "because you are to fight with hissword. A little while ago he sent to me for Excalibur and the scabbard, but I returned him a false sword which looks like Excalibur, and a falsescabbard. You shall take the true ones, and then you will surelyovercome him and rule this land. " Then Sir Accalon was glad, and he hastened with the lady to the castleof Sir Ontzlake. They found him groaning because he was ill and becauseSir Damas had sent him a challenge to fight with a knight, and he couldnot accept it. He was much relieved when Morgan le Fay told him that SirAccalon would fight in his place. Early in the afternoon, King Arthur and Sir Accalon rode into the fieldwhere the combat was to be held. Arthur did not know who Sir Accalonwas, nor did any one else, except Morgan le Fay. Two sides of the fieldwere full of people, who came to watch, half of whom were friends of SirDamas, and the other half were friends of Sir Ontzlake. Arthur and Sir Accalon rode at each other so furiously that at the shockof the meeting both fell off their horses. Then they began to fightfiercely with their swords. The king could make no headway with hisfalse steel, but whenever Sir Accalon struck at Arthur he drew blood. The king was much amazed. He grew weaker and weaker, but still he kepton his feet. Those who watched him were sorry for him; they thought theyhad never seen a man fight so bravely. At last Arthur's sword broke, andfell in two pieces on the ground. When Sir Accalon saw this, he cried: "Now, yield to me. " "I will never yield, " said the king, "and if you do not get me anothersword, you will be shamed before all men, for it is an unknightly thingto fight with a defenseless man. " "I do not care, " said Sir Accalon. "If you will not yield, defendyourself with your shield as best you can. " He rushed at the king. Arthur was so weak that he could hardly stand, but he guarded himself as well as he could with his shield. Soon hecould do no more, and fell to the ground. At this moment the Lady of the Lake, who had given Arthur his sword, came upon the field. She was invisible, but anyone who had listenedintently could have heard a sound like a ripple of water as she walked. She caused Excalibur to fall out of the hand of Sir Accalon and dropnear Arthur. When it fell, Arthur saw that it was his own Excalibur. He grasped itshandle and some of his strength came back. He struggled to his feet, andrushing up to Sir Accalon, seized the scabbard of Excalibur and threw itfar over the field. "Now, " he said, "send for a second sword and fight with me. " Then Sir Accalon was afraid. Yet he thought that Arthur was so weak thathe could still be overcome. So he sent for a second sword, and theybegan to fight again. Arthur's strength, however, had largely returned, and in a short time he gave Sir Accalon a mortal stroke. Sir Accalon fell to the ground, and the king, leaning over him, cried: "Tell me who you are. " Then Sir Accalon was filled with remorse, and he said: "Oh, my King, I have been a traitor to you, but now I am dying, and I amsorry for what I have done. I deserve my death. " He told the king his name, and all about his treachery, and that ofMorgan le Fay. King Arthur was sad. "It is very hard to be deceived in a friend, " he said, "but I forgiveyou freely. I will try to cure your wound, and sometime I shall trustyou again. " "You cannot cure me, " said Sir Accalon. "I am dying. Let them carry meoff the field. " So he was taken to a neighboring abbey, while the people crowded aboutthe king to congratulate him, but Arthur said: "I am sad at heart. My victory is no comfort to me, for to-day I havelost a friend whom I believed true. " Then he called the two brothers, Sir Damas and Sir Ontzlake, and judgedtheir cause. He decided that their property must be divided equallybetween them, and that they must be friends. They promised never toquarrel again. Arthur told them that they must be kind to other knightsand to all people. He said that if he heard that they were not, he couldcome and punish them. After this, Sir Damas gave back to the twenty knights all their money, and they went on their way rejoicing. King Arthur mounted his horse androde over to the abbey, where he sat by the bed of Sir Accalon till thepoor knight died. Then the king went back alone to his Court at Camelot. 405-411 Miguel de Cervantes, the greatest literary genius of Spain, was born in 1547 in a small town near Madrid, and he died in 1616, the year of the death of Shakespeare. He received a fair education, and by reading he gained a thorough knowledge of the romantic poetry of Spain and Italy and of the romances of chivalry. At the age of twenty-one he went to Italy. For several years he was a soldier in the Spanish army. When he was twenty-eight years old, he was captured by pirates of Algiers and was held a prisoner for five years. When he returned to Spain, he attempted to make a living by writing dramas and romances, and later he secured an unimportant governmental position as commissary and tax-collector in Seville. In 1606 he published the first part of _Don Quixote_. This book immediately became very popular, but it did not bring him much money nor did it win for him the recognition of literary men. All his life he was poor, and sometimes apparently he was actually in want of food. In 1615, one year before his death, he published the second part of _Don Quixote_, the greatest national book of Spain. _Don Quixote_ is a humorous satire upon the romances of chivalry, which at the time were so popular in Spain as to corrupt the national life by their loose morals and false ideals. So complete was the success of Cervantes that the whole nation began to laugh at the absurdities of the romances of chivalry, and it is said that not one new edition of any book of chivalry appeared in Spain after the publication of _Don Quixote_. Although the world no longer takes serious consideration of the ideals of the romances of chivalry, _Don Quixote_ will always be remembered as a great book, for it abounds in good-humored satire of human follies that are found in all ages and countries. Sancho Panza represents the type of person who does not have imagination or spiritual ideals. Not much less ridiculous, though much more deserving of sympathy, is Don Quixote, who represents the type of person who is controlled by imagination and fanciful ideals, unbalanced by practical judgment. The life of a person of either type must be filled with absurdities. The following selections are taken from _Stories of Don Quixote_ retold by H. L. Havell. STORIES FROM DON QUIXOTE I. DREAMS AND SHADOWS The scene is laid in a village of La Mancha, a high and arid district ofCentral Spain; and the time is towards the close of the sixteenthcentury. On the outskirts of the village there stood at the timementioned a house of modest size, adjoining a little farm, the propertyof a retired gentleman whose real name was Quisada or Quijada, but whois now known to all mankind by the immortal title of Don Quixote. How hecame to alter his name we shall see presently. On a hot summer afternoon this worthy gentleman was sitting in a smallupper room, which served him as a study, absorbed in the contents of ahuge folio volume, which lay open on the table before him. Othervolumes, of like bulky proportions, were piled up on chairs or strewn onthe floor around him. The reader was a man some fifty years of age, talland spare of figure, and with high, stern features of the severestSpanish type. In his eyes, when from time to time he paused in hisreading and gazed absently before him, there was a look of wildabstraction, as of one who lives in a world of dreams and shadows. Onehand, with bony, nervous fingers, rested on the open page; with theother he grasped his sword, which lay sheathed on his lap. No sound disturbs the sultry stillness of the chamber, save only thedroning of an imprisoned bee and the rustling of paper when the eagerstudent turned a leaf. Deeper and deeper grew his absorption; his eyesseemed to devour the lines, and he clutched his hair with both hands, asif he would tear it out by the roots. At last, overpowered by a frenziedimpulse, he leaped from his seat, and plucking his sword from thescabbard, began cutting and thrusting at some invisible object, shoutingin a voice of thunder: "Unhand the maiden, foul caitiff! Give place, Isay, and let the princess go! What, wilt thou face me, vile robber?Have at thee, then, and take the wages of thy villainy. " As he utteredthe last words he aimed a tremendous thrust at his visionary opponentand narrowly escaped transfixing the comely person of a young lady whoat this very moment entered the room, with signs of haste and alarm. Behind her, in the dimly-lighted passage, appeared the portly figure ofan elderly dame, who was proclaimed, by the bunch of keys which hung ather girdle, to be the gentleman's housekeeper. "Dear uncle, what ails thee?" said the young lady, gazing with pity andwonder at the poor distracted man, who stood arrested in his lastattitude, with rolling eyes and hair in wild disorder, while great beadsof sweat poured down his face. But he, whose mind was still soaring inthe regions of high romance, at once converted his niece into a rescuedprincess, saved from violence by his prowess; and, lowering his bladeand dropping gracefully on one knee, he raised her hand to his lips andsaid: "Fear nothing, gentle lady! There lies thine enemy in his gore";and he pointed to a table which had been overset in one of his wildrushes, carrying with it an inkstand, the contents of which were nowtrickling in a black stream across the uncarpeted boards. His niece was accustomed to the strange fits of her eccentric relative, and, humoring his fancy, she answered: "Thou hast done well, and I thankthee. But sit down now and rest awhile after thy toils; and I will bringthee something to drink. " With that she led him to a couch and left theroom, taking the housekeeper with her. In a few moments she returned, bearing a great pitcher of cold water. "'Tis a most rare elixir, " said he, after taking a deep draught, "prepared by the great enchanter Alquife, and of a magic potency. " Then, being exhausted by his violent exertions of body and mind he stretchedhimself on the couch and soon sank into a quiet sleep. II. PREPARING FOR THE QUEST The extraordinary scene which has just been described was only one amongmany which had occurred during several months, down to the time when ourstory begins; and we must now go back a little and give some account ofour hero's habits and studies, which ended by bringing him to sodesperate a state. At that time by far the most popular form of lightliterature was the Romances of Chivalry, --huge interminable fictions, filled with the most extravagant visions that ever visited the slumbersof a mad poet. Merely to unravel the story of one of these giganticromances is a task which would tax the strongest brain. They dealt withthe adventures of Knights-Errant, who wandered about the earthredressing grievances and succoring the oppressed. Those who ventureinto these vast jungles of romance are occasionally rewarded by passagesof great sweetness, nobility, and charm; but the modern reader soongrows weary of enchanted forests, haunted by giants, dragons, and otherimpossible monsters, of deserts where despairing lovers roam haggard andforlorn, of dwarfs, goblins, wizards, and all the wild and grotesquecreations of the mediæval fancy. But in the times of which we are writing the passion for Books ofChivalry rose to such a height that it became a serious public evil. InSpain it reached its climax; and our humble gentleman of La Mancha isonly an extreme example of the effect which such studies produced on thenational mind. Being bitten by the craze for chivalrous fiction, hegradually forsook all the healthy pursuits of a country life and gavehimself up entirely to reading such books as Amadis of Gaul, Palmerin ofEngland, and Belianis of Greece; and his infatuation reached such apoint that he sold several acres of good arable land to provide himselfwith funds for the purchase of those ponderous folios with which we sawhim surrounded when he was first introduced to our notice. From dawntill eve he pored over his darling books, and sometimes passed wholenights in the same pursuit, until at last, having crammed his brain withthis perilous stuff, he began to imagine that these wild inventions weresober reality. From this delusion there was but one step to the beliefthat he himself was a principal actor in the adventures of which heread; and when the fit was on him, he would take his sword and engage insingle combat with the creatures of his brain, stamping his feet andalarming the household with his cries. At first his frenzy was intermittent, and each attack was followed by alucid interval; but finally he lost his wits altogether and came to theinsane resolution of turning knight-errant and going out into the worldas the redresser of wrongs and the champion of the innocent. Hisintention once formed, he at once took steps to carry it into effect. From a dark corner of the house he brought out an old suit of armor, which had been lying neglected for generations and was now covered withmould and eaten with rust. He cleaned the pieces and repaired them aswell as he could; and observing that the helmet was a simple morion, wanting a protection for the face, he made a vizor of pasteboard tosupply the defect. Then, wishing to prove the strength of his vizor, hedrew his sword and with one stroke destroyed what had cost him the laborof a week. He was considerably shocked by the ease with which he haddemolished his handiwork; but having made a second vizor andstrengthened it with bars of iron, he did not choose to try any furtherexperiments, but accepted the helmet, thus fortified, as the finestheadpiece in the world. Then he paid a visit to his old horse, and though the poor beast was amere living skeleton, broken-winded and with his feet full ofsandcracks, to his master's eyes he seemed a nobler steed thanBucephalus, or Bavieca, the famous charger of the Cid. It was evidentthat such a noble steed, who was to carry a warrior so famous, must havea name by which all the world might know him; and accordingly, afterdeliberating for four days and passing in review a multitude of titles, he determined to call the beast Rozinante. Having settled this weighty question, he next began to consider whatname he should assume himself, being by no means satisfied with thatwhich he had received from his father. Eight days were passed indebating a matter so important to himself and to posterity, and at theend of that time he resolved to call himself Don Quixote. But, remembering that Amadis, not contented with his simple name, had takenthe additional title of Amadis of Gaul, he determined, in imitation ofthat illustrious hero, his model and teacher in all things, to stylehimself Don Quixote de La Mancha, and thereby confer immortal honor onthe land of his birth. Nothing now remained but to choose a lady to be the mistress of hisaffections and the load-star of his life; for, as he wisely reflected, aknight-errant without a lady-love was like a tree without fruit or abody without a soul. "If, " he said to himself, "I should encounter somegiant, as commonly happens to knights-errant, and cut him in twain orotherwise vanquish him and make him my prisoner, will it not be well tohave some lady to whom I may send him as a gift, so that he may enterthe presence of my sweet mistress and bow the knee before her, saying ina humble and submissive voice: 'Lady, _I am the giant Caraculiambro, vanquished in single combat by the knight Don Quixote de La Mancha, whose praise no tongue can tell, and I have been commanded by him topresent myself to your grace, that you may dispose of me as yourHighness pleases_. '" Our good knight was highly pleased with his own eloquence, and stillmore so when he had made choice of his lady. In a neighboring villagethere was a young girl, employed on a farm, with whom he had at one timebeen in love, though he had never brought himself to declare hispassion. Her name was Aldonza Lorenzo, and her he resolved to constitutethe queen of his heart, having conferred on her the sounding title ofDulcinea del Toboso, or "The Sweet Lady of Toboso, " the village whereshe was born. III. THE QUEST BEGINS "The world is waiting for me, " murmured our enthusiast, leaping from hisbed at the first peep of dawn and arming himself from head to foot. Thentreading softly, so as not to alarm the household, he went to thestable, saddled Rozinante, and leading him out through a back gate ofthe yard, mounted and rode forth into the plain, hugely delighted tofind himself fairly started on his great enterprise. But hardly had he reached the open country when the terrible thoughtoccurred to him that he had not been dubbed a knight and by the laws ofchivalry was not entitled to engage in combat with any one who bore thatrank, and further, even if he were already a knight, he was obliged as anovice to wear plain armor, without device of any kind. So much was heperturbed by these reflections that he was within an ace of giving uphis whole design, and would have done so but for a happy inspiration, which saved mankind from so dire a calamity. Many of the heroes of hisbooks of chivalry had got themselves dubbed knight by the first personwhom they met, and remembering this, he resolved to follow theirexample. And as to his armor, he would rub and polish it until it waswhiter than ermine. His scruples thus removed, he continued his journey, leaving his goodsteed to choose what direction he pleased, as was the fashion withknights-errant when they set out on their adventures. Thus pacing alongand dreaming of mighty deeds, he gave vent to his feelings in thefollowing rhapsody: "What a theme for the eloquence of some great masterof style--the feats of high emprise wrought by the valiant arm of DonQuixote de La Mancha! Happy the pen which shall describe them, happy theage which shall read the wondrous tale! And thou, brave steed, shalthave thy part in the honor which is done to thy master, when poet andsculptor and painter shall vie with one another in raising an eternalmonument to his fame. " Then recalling his part as an afflicted lover, he began to mourn hishard lot in soft and plaintive tones: "O lady Dulcinea, queen of thiscaptive heart! Why hast thou withdrawn from me the light of thycountenance and banished thy faithful servant from thy presence?Shorten, I implore thee, the term of my penance and leave me not towither in solitude and despair. " Lost in these sublime and melancholy thoughts he rode slowly on fromhour to hour, until the sun became so hot that it was enough to melt hisbrains, if he had possessed any. All that day he continued his journeywithout meeting with any adventure, which vexed him sorely, for he waseager to encounter some foeman worthy of his steel. Evening came on, andboth he and his horse were ready to drop with hunger and fatigue, when, looking about him in search of some castle--or some hovel--where hemight find shelter and refreshment, he saw not far from the roadside asmall inn, and, setting spurs to Rozinante, rode up to the door at ahobbling canter just as night was falling. The inn was of the poorest and meanest description, frequented bymuleteers and other rude wayfarers; but to his perverted fancy it seemeda turreted castle, with battlements of silver, drawbridge, and moat, andall that belonged to a feudal fortress. Before the door were standingtwo women, vagabonds of the lowest class, who were traveling in thecompany of certain mule-drivers; but for him they were instantlytransformed into a pair of high-born maidens taking the air before thecastle gate. To complete his illusion, just at this moment a swineherd, who wascollecting his drove from a neighboring stubble field, sounded a fewnotes on his horn. This Don Quixote took for a signal which had beengiven by some dwarf from the ramparts, to inform the inmates of thecastle of his approach; and so, with huge satisfaction, he lifted hispasteboard vizor, and uncovering his haggard and dusty features, thusaddressed the women who were eyeing him with looks of no small alarm, and evidently preparing to retreat: "Fly not, gracious ladies, neitherwrong me by dreaming that ye have aught to fear from me, for the orderof chivalry which I profess suffers not that I should do harm to any, least of all to maidens of lofty lineage, such as I perceive you to be. " Hearing themselves accosted by that extraordinary figure in language towhich they were so little used, the women could not restrain theirmirth, but laughed so long and loud that Don Quixote began to be vexedand said in a tone of grave rebuke, "Beauty and discourtesy areill-matched together, and unseemly is the laugh which folly breeds in avacant mind. Take not my words amiss, for I mean no offence, but amready to serve you with heart and hand. " At this dignified reproof, the damsels only laughed louder than before, and there is no saying what might have come of it if the innkeeper, whoappeared at this moment, had not undertaken the office of peacemaker, for which he was well fitted, being a fat, good-humored fellow, wholoved a quiet life. At first, when he saw that fantastic warrior on hisspectral steed, he was much inclined to join the girls in their noisymerriment. But finding some ground for alarm in so many engines of war, he contrived to swallow his laughter, and going up to Don Quixote, saidto him civilly enough: "If your honor is in search of quarters for thenight, you will find in this inn all that you require excepting a bed, which is not to be had here. " Finding the governor of the fortress--that is to say, the landlord ofthe inn--so obsequious, Don Quixote replied cheerfully: "Sir Castellan, you will not find me hard to please, for Arms are all my rich array, My repose to fight alway. " "If that be your case, then, " answered the innkeeper, humoring hisstrange guest, "'tis plain that Your couch is the field, your pillow a shield, Your slumber a vigil from dusk until day: and therefore you may dismount in the full assurance of finding under myhumble roof divers good reasons for keeping awake for a twelvemonth, should such be your desire. " As he said this, he went and held the stirrup for Don Quixote, who wasso weak from his long fast that it cost him much pain and effort todismount. "I commend to thy especial care this my good steed, " said he, as soon as he had found his feet: "he is the rarest piece of horsefleshthat ever lived by bread. " The innkeeper bestowed but one glance on poor Rozinante, and findinglittle to admire in him, he thrust him hastily into the stable and cameback to attend to the wants of his guest. Meanwhile Don Quixotesubmitted to be disarmed by the young women, who had now made theirpeace. Having removed his body armor, they tried to relieve him of hishelmet, which was attached to his neck by green ribbons. Being unable toloose the knots, they proposed to cut the ribbons, but as he would notallow them to do this, he was obliged to keep his helmet on all thatnight, which made him the strangest and most diverting object that couldbe imagined. While the ladies were thus employed, our brave adventurer entertainedthem with a strain of high-flown gallantry, seasoned with scraps fromthe old ballads and romances which he had read. Not understanding a wordof what he said, they simply asked him, when they had finished, if hewanted anything to eat. "A slight refection would not be ill-timed, "answered Don Quixote, and learning that there was nothing to be had buta "little trout, " he bade them bring it with all speed. "Many littletrouts, " he added jestingly, "will serve my turn as well as one big one. Only let it be brought at once, for I begin to be conscious of awondrous void within the compass of my sword-belt. " The "little trout" proved to be neither more nor less than a dish ofstockfish, Poor John, or in plain English, salted cod, and that of therankest. An odor the reverse of savory heralded its approach, and DonQuixote sat down at the table, which had been set, for coolness, beforethe door, and applied himself to his lenten fare. But being muchincommoded by his helmet, he could not find the way to his mouth, andremained staring in dismay at the reeking mess and the filthy blackbread which accompanied it, until one of the damsels, perceiving hisdistress, came to his relief and fed him with small morsels, which shedeftly conveyed to their proper destination through the opening of hishelmet. To give him drink was a harder matter, but this problem wassolved with great ingenuity by the landlord, who brought a hollow cane, and placing one end in his mouth, poured the wine in at the other. And so in solemn silence, broken now and then by the stifled laughter ofthe onlookers, the strange meal proceeded; and when it was nearly at anend, a clownish fellow passed by, blowing on a rustic pipe. But for DonQuixote, who had transformed the inn into a castle, the fat publicaninto a powerful governor, and the vagabond damsels into high-bornladies, it was an easy matter to find in those rude notes a strain ofrare music, provided for his delectation while he sat at table; and heconcluded his repast in a state of high satisfaction with his firstday's adventures. IV. THE KNIGHTLY VIGIL But one uncomfortable thought chilled the heat of his enthusiasm--he hadnot yet been dubbed a knight and was therefore still unqualified toengage in any chivalrous adventure. Accordingly, as soon as he hadfinished his scanty and sordid meal, he took the landlord aside, andshutting himself up with him in the stable and falling on his kneesbefore him, said: "I will never rise from this posture, valiant knight, until thou hast granted me of thy courtesy the favor which I desire, andwhich shall redound to thine honor and to the benefit of the humanrace. " Dumbfoundered at the strange attitude and still stranger language of hisguest, the landlord stared at him, not knowing what to do or say. Hebegged him to rise, but Don Quixote steadily refused, so that at last hewas obliged to give the promise required. "I expected no less from your High Mightiness, " answered Don Quixote. "And now hear what I desire: to-morrow at dawn you shall dub me knight, and to that end I will this night keep the vigil of arms in the chapelof your castle, so that I may be ready to receive the order of chivalryin the morning and forthwith set out on the path of toil and glory whichawaits those who follow the perilous profession of knight-errant. " By this time the landlord began to perceive that Don Quixote was notright in his wits, and being somewhat of a wag he resolved to makematter for mirth by humoring his whim; and so he replied that suchambition was most laudable, and just what he would have looked for in agentleman of his gallant presence. He had himself, he said, been acavalier of fortune in his youth--which in a certain sense was true, forhe had been a notorious thief and rogue, known to every magistrate inSpain--and now, in his declining years, he was living in the retirementof his castle, where his chief pleasure was to entertain wanderingknights; which, being interpreted, meant that he was a rascally landlordand grew fat by cheating the unfortunate travelers who stayed at hisinn. Then he went on to say that, with regard to the vigil of arms, it couldbe held in the courtyard of the castle, as the chapel had been pulleddown to make place for a new one. "And to-morrow, " he concluded, "youshall be dubbed a knight--a full knight, and a perfect knight, so thatnone shall be more so in all the world. " Having thanked the landlord for his kindness, and promised to obey him, as his adoptive father, in all things, Don Quixote at once prepared toperform the vigil of arms. Collecting his armor, he laid the severalpieces in a horse-trough which stood in the center of the inn-yard, andthen, taking his shield on his arm and grasping his lance, he began topace up and down with high-bred dignity before the trough. The landlord had lost no time in informing those who were staying at theinn of the mad freaks of his guest, and a little crowd was gathered towatch his proceedings from a distance, which they were the better ableto do as the moon was shining with unusual brightness. Sometimes theysaw him stalking to and fro, with serene composure, and sometimes hewould pause in his march and stand for a good while leaning on his lanceand scanning his armor with a fixed and earnest gaze. While this was going on, one of the mule-drivers took it into his headto water his team, and approaching the horse-trough prepared to removeDon Quixote's armor, which was in his way. Perceiving his intentions, Don Quixote cried to him in a loud voice, saying: "O thou, whoever thouart, audacious knight who drawest near to touch the armor of the bravestchampion that ever girt on sword, look what thou doest, and touch itnot, if thou wouldst not pay for thy rashness with thy life!" The valiant defiance was thrown away on the muleteer, whose thick headneeded other arguments, and taking the armor by the straps, he flung ita good way from him. Which when Don Quixote saw, he raised his eyes toheaven, and fixing his thoughts (as may be supposed) on his ladyDulcinea, he exclaimed: "Shine on me, light of my life, now, when thefirst insult is offered to my devoted heart! Let not thy countenance andfavor desert me in this, my first adventure. " As he put up this pious appeal he let go his shield, and lifting hislance in both hands, brought it down with such force on the muleteer'shead that he fell senseless to the ground; and if the blow had beenfollowed by another, he would have needed no physician to cure him. Having done this, Don Quixote collected his armor, and began pacing upand down again, with the same tranquility as before. Presently another muleteer, knowing nothing of what had happened, cameup to the trough with the same intention as the first and was about tolay hands on the armor when Don Quixote, without uttering a word orasking favor of any one, once more lifted his lance and dealt the fellowtwo smart strokes, which made two cross gashes on his crown. Meanwhile the alarm had been raised in the house, and the whole troop ofmuleteers now came running to avenge their comrades. Seeing himselfthreatened by a general assault, Don Quixote drew his sword, andthrusting his arm into his shield cried: "Queen of Beauty, who givestpower and might to this feeble heart, now let thine eyes be turned uponthy slave, who stands on the threshold of so great a peril. " His words were answered by the muleteers with a shower of stones, whichhe kept off as well as he could with his shield. At the noise of thefray the innkeeper came puffing up, and called upon the muleteers todesist. "The man is mad, " said he, "as I told you before, and the lawcannot touch him, though he should kill you all. " "Ha! art thou there, base and recreant knight?" shouted Don Quixote in avoice of thunder. "Is this thy hospitality to knights-errant? 'Tis wellfor thee that I have not yet received the order of knighthood, or Iwould have paid thee home for this outrage. As to you, base and sordidpack, I care not for you a straw. Come one, come all, and take the wagesof your folly and presumption. " His tones were so threatening, and his aspect was so formidable, that hestruck terror into the hearts of his assailants, who drew back and leftoff throwing stones; and, after some further parley, he allowed them tocarry off the wounded, and returned with unruffled dignity to the vigilof arms. The landlord was now thoroughly tired of his guest's wild antics, and, resolving to make an end of the business, lest worse should come of it, he went up to Don Quixote and asked pardon for the violence of thatlow-born rabble, who had acted, he said, without his knowledge, and hadbeen properly chastised for their temerity. He added that the ceremonyof conferring knighthood might be performed in any place, and that twohours sufficed for the vigil of arms, so that Don Quixote had fulfilledthis part of his duty twice over, as he had now been watching for doublethat time. All this was firmly believed by Don Quixote, and he requested that hemight be made a knight without further delay; for if, he said, he wereattacked again, after receiving the order of chivalry, he was determinednot to leave a soul alive in the castle, excepting those to whom hemight show mercy at the governor's desire. The landlord, whose anxiety was increased by this alarming threat, wentand fetched a book in which he kept his accounts, and came back, attended by a boy who carried a stump of candle, and by the two damselsaforesaid. Then, bidding Don Quixote to kneel before him, he began tomurmur words from his book, in the tone of one who was saying hisprayers, and in the midst of his reading he raised his hand and gave DonQuixote a smart blow on the neck, and then taking the sword laid itgently on his shoulder, muttering all the time between his teeth withthe same air of devotion. Then he directed one of the ladies to gird onhis sword, which she did with equal liveliness and discretion--and shehad much need of the latter quality to prevent an explosion oflaughter--; however, the specimen which the new knight had just given ofhis prowess kept their merriment in check. When his spurs had been buckled on by the other damsel, the ceremony wascompleted, and after some further compliments Don Quixote saddledRozinante and rode forth, a new-made knight, ready to astonish the worldwith feats of arms and chivalry. The innkeeper, who was glad to see thelast of him, let him go without making any charge for what he hadconsumed. V. ON HONOR'S FIELD On leaving the inn Don Quixote turned his horse's steps homewards, beingresolved to obtain a supply of money, and, above all, to provide himselfwith a squire before seeking more distant scenes of adventure. Presentlyhe came to a cross-road, and after hesitating a moment, he resolved toimitate his favorite heroes by leaving the direction to his steed, whoimmediately took the nearest way to his stable. After advancing abouttwo leagues, our knight came in view of a great troop of people, who, asit afterwards turned out, were merchants of Toledo, on their way toMurcia to buy silk. There were six of them jogging comfortably alongunder their umbrellas, with four servants on horseback, and threemule-drivers walking and leading their beasts. Here was a new opportunity, as Don Quixote thought, of displaying hisknightly valor, so he settled himself firmly in his stirrups, graspedhis lance, covered his breast with his shield, and stood waiting for thearrival of those knights-errant, --for such he judged them to be; andwhen they were come within hearing, he raised his voice and cried withan air of proud defiance: "Halt, every mother's son of you, and confessthat in all the world there is no damsel more beautiful than the empressof La Mancha, the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso!" Hearing the strange words and seeing the extravagant figure of him whouttered them, the merchants drew up, and one of them, who was of awaggish disposition, answered for the whole company and said: "SirKnight, we do not know the good lady of whom you speak; let us see her, and if she is of such beauty as you describe, we will most gladly makethe confession which you require. " "If you were to see her, " replied Don Quixote, "you must needs beconvinced that what I say is true, and that would be a poor triumph forme. No, on the faith of my word alone, you must believe it, confess it, assert it, swear to it, and maintain it! If not, I defy you to battle, ye sons of lawlessness and arrogance! Here I stand ready to receive you, whether ye come singly, as the rule of knighthood demands, or alltogether, as is the custom with churls like you. " "Sir Knight, " answered the merchant, "I entreat you in the name of allthis noble company, that you constrain us not to lay perjury to oursouls by swearing to a thing which we have neither seen nor heard. Showus, at least, some portrait of this lady, though it be no bigger than agrain of wheat, that our scruples may be satisfied. For so strongly arewe disposed in favor of the fair dame, that even if the picture shouldexhibit her squinting with one eye, and dropping brimstone and vermilionfrom the other, for all that we will vow and profess that she is aslovely as you say. " "There drops not from her, " shouted Don Quixote, aflame with fury, "there drops not, I say, that which thou namest, but only sweet perfumesand pearly dew. Neither is she cross-eyed nor hunch-backed, but straightand slender as a peak of Guadarrama. But ye shall pay for the monstrousblasphemy which ye have spoken against the angelic beauty of my lady andqueen. " With these words he leveled his lance and hurled himself upon thespeaker with such vigor and frenzy that if Rozinante had not chanced tostumble and fall in mid career, the rash merchant would have paid dearfor his jest. Down went Rozinante, and his master rolled over and overfor some distance across the plain. Being brought up at last by aprojecting rock, he made frantic efforts to rise, but was kept down bythe weight of his armor and lay plunging and kicking on his back, butceased not for a moment to hurl threats and defiances at his laughingfoes. "Fly not, ye cowards, ye dastards! Wait awhile! Tis not by myfault, but by the fault of my horse that I lie prostrate here. " One of the mule-drivers, who was somewhat hot-tempered, was so provokedby the haughty language of the poor fallen knight, that he resolved togive him the answer on his ribs, and running up he snatched the lancefrom Don Quixote's hands, broke it in pieces, and taking one of thembegan to beat him with such good-will that in spite of the armor hebruised him like wheat in a mill-hopper. And he found the exercise somuch to his liking that he continued it until he had shivered everyfragment of the broken lance into splinters. Nevertheless he could notstop the mouth of our valiant knight, who during all that tempest ofblows went on defying heaven and earth and shouting menaces againstthose bandits, as he now supposed them to be. At length the mule-driver grew weary, and the whole party rode off, leaving the battered champion on the ground. When they were gone he madeanother attempt to rise. But if he failed when he was sound and whole, how much less could he do it now that he was almost hammered to pieces!Notwithstanding, his heart was light and gay, for in his own fancy hewas a hero of romance, lying covered with wounds on honor's field. VI. THE RETURN HOME Two days had passed since Don Quixote left his home, and his niece andhis housekeeper were growing very anxious about him. More than once theyhad heard him declare his intention to turn knight-errant, and theybegan to fear that he had carried out his mad design. On the evening ofthe second day, a few hours after he had been so roughly handled by themuleteer, they heard a loud voice calling outside the street door: "Opento Sir Baldwin and the Lord Marquis of Mantua, who is brought to yourgates grievously wounded. " They made haste to unbar the door, and whenit was opened they saw a strange sight: mounted on an ass, whose headwas held by a laboring man of the village, sat Don Quixote, huddledtogether in a most uncavalier-like posture, his armor all battered andhis face begrimed with dirt. Hard by stood Rozinante, a woeful object, crooking his knees and drooping his head; and tied in a bundle on hisback were the splintered fragments of Don Quixote's lance. When they saw who it was, they gathered round him with eager questionsand cries of welcome; but he checked them with a gesture and said:"Control yourselves, all of you! I am grievously hurt, and if it bepossible let some one go and fetch Urganda the wise woman, that she mayexamine and heal my wounds. " "Alack-a-day!" cried the housekeeper, lifting up her hands. "Did I nottell you, gentlemen, that I knew on which foot my master halted? Come, dear sir, and we will cure you, without the help of Urganda or anyoneelse. " And with many maledictions against the books of chivalry whichhad done the kind gentleman so ill a turn, she assisted him to dismount, and amongst them they carried him to his room, took off his armor, andlaid him on his bed. Then they inquired where he was hurt, and DonQuixote exclaimed that he was bruised from head to foot, having beenthrown from his horse in an encounter with ten giants, the mostoutrageous and ferocious in the world. VII. THE BATTLE WITH THE WINDMILLS For two weeks Don Quixote remained peacefully at home, and many were thepleasant discussions which passed between him and his old friends, thepriest and barber, on his favorite theme--the pressing need of revivingthe profession of knight-errantry, and his own peculiar fitness forrendering this great service to the world. All this time he was secretlynegotiating with a certain peasant, a neighbor of his, whose name wasSancho Panza, an honest, poor man, not much better furnished with witsthan the knight himself. This simple fellow lent a ready ear to hisgrand tales of glory and conquest, and at last consented to follow himas his squire, being especially tempted by certain mysterious hintswhich Don Quixote let fall concerning an "Isle, " of which his new masterpromised to make him governor at the first opportunity. This matter being arranged Don Quixote patched up his armor, obtained anew lance, and having provided himself with a sum of money, gave noticeto his squire of the day on which he proposed to start. Sancho, who wasshort and fat and little used to traveling on foot, asked leave to bringhis ass, remarking that it was a very good one. This proposal gave theknight pause, for, try as he would, he could remember no authority for asquire on a long-eared charger; but finally he gave the requiredpermission, resolving to furnish him with a worthier steed as soon aspossible, by taking the horse of the first discourteous knight whom hemet. When all was ready they set off together one night, without taking leaveof their families, and rode steadily on, so that by daybreak they werebeyond the reach of pursuit. Sancho Panza sat his ass like a patriarch, carrying with him his saddle-bags and leather bottle; and all histhoughts were of the Isle which his master had promised him. Don Quixotewas lost in loftier meditations until he was roused from his reverie bythe voice of his squire, who said: "I hope your Grace has not forgottenthe Isle which I was to have, for I shall know well how to govern it, however big it may be. " "As to that, " replied Don Quixote "thou needest have no fear; I shallonly be complying with an ancient and honorable custom ofknights-errant, and, indeed, I purpose to improve on their practice, for, instead of waiting, as they often did, until thou art worn out inmy service, I shall seek the first occasion to bestow on thee this gift;and it may be that before a week has passed thou wilt be crowned king ofthat Isle. " "Well, " said Sancho, "if this miracle should come to pass, my good wifeJoan will be a queen and my sons young princes. " "Who doubts it?" answered Don Quixote. "I do, " rejoined Sancho. "My Joan a queen! Nay, if it rained crowns, Idon't believe that one would ever settle on my dame's head. Believe me, your honor, she's not worth three farthings as a queen; she might manageas a countess, though that would be hard enough. " "Think not so meanly of thyself, Sancho, " said Don Quixote, gravely. "Marquis is the very least title which I intend for thee, if thou wiltbe content with that. " "That I will, and heaven bless your honor, " said Sancho heartily. "Iwill take what you give and be thankful, knowing that you will not makethe burden too heavy for my back. " Chatting thus, they reached the top of rising ground and saw before themthirty or forty windmills in the plain below; and as soon as Don Quixoteset eyes on them he said to his squire: "Friend Sancho, we are in luckto-day! See, there stands a troop of monstrous giants, thirty or more, and with them I will forthwith do battle and slay them every one. Withtheir spoils we will lay the foundation of our fortune, as is thevictor's right; moreover it is doing heaven good service to sweep thisgeneration of vipers from off the face of the earth. " "What giants do you mean?" asked Sancho Panza. "Those whom thou seest yonder, " answered his master, "with the longarms, which in such creatures are sometimes two leagues in length. " "What is your honor thinking of?" cried Sancho. "Those are not giants, but windmills, and their arms, as you call them, are the sails, which, being driven by the wind, set the millstones going. " "'Tis plain, " said Don Quixote, "that thou hast still much to learn inour school of adventures. I tell thee they are giants, and if thou artafraid, keep out of the way and pass the time in prayer while I amengaged with them in fierce and unequal battle. " Saying this, he set spurs to Rozinante, and turning a deaf ear to thecries of Sancho, who kept repeating that the supposed giants werenothing but windmills, he thundered across the plain, shouting at thetop of his voice: "Fly not, ye cowardly loons, for it is only a singleknight who is coming to attack you!" Just at this moment there came a puff of wind, which set the sails inmotion; seeing which, Don Quixote cried: "Ay, swing your arms! If ye hadmore of them than Briareos himself, I would make you pay for it. " Then, with a heartfelt appeal to his lady Dulcinea, he charged full gallop atthe nearest mill, and pierced the descending sail with his lance. Theweapon was shivered to pieces, and horse and rider, caught by the sweepof the sail, were sent rolling with great violence across the plain. "Heaven preserve us!" cried Sancho, who had followed as fast as his asscould trot, and found his master lying very still by the side of hissteed. "Did I not warn your honor that those things were windmills andnot giants at all? Surely none could fail to see it, unless he had suchanother whirligig in his own pate!" "Be silent, good Sancho!" replied Don Quixote, "and know that the thingsof war, beyond all others, are subject to continual mutation. Moreover, in the present case I think, nay, I am sure, that an alien power hasbeen at work, even that wicked enchanter Friston; he it is who haschanged those giants into windmills to rob me of the honor of theirdefeat. But in the end all his evil devices shall be baffled by my goodsword. " "Heaven grant that it may be so!" said Sancho, assisting him to rise;and the knight then remounted Rozinante, whose shoulders were almostsplayed by his fall, and turned his face towards the Puerto Lapice, arugged mountain pass through which ran the main road from Madrid toAndalusia; for such a place, he thought, could not fail to afford richand varied matter for adventures. 412 One of the best of Mr. Scudder's many fine compilations for children is his _Book of Legends_ from which the following story is taken. It is the same story that Longfellow tells in his _Tales of a Wayside Inn_ under the title of "King Robert of Sicily. " ("The Proud King" is used here by permission of and special arrangement with the publishers, The Houghton Mifflin Co. , Boston. ) THE PROUD KING HORACE E. SCUDDER There was once a king who ruled over many lands; he went to war, andadded one country after another to his kingdom. At last he came to beemperor, and that is as much as any man can be. One night, after he wascrowned emperor, he lay awake and thought about himself. "Surely, " he said, "no one can be greater than I am, on earth or inheaven. " The proud king fell asleep with these thoughts. When he awoke, the daywas fair, and he looked out on the pleasant world. "Come, " he said to the men about him; "to-day we will go a-hunting. " The horses were brought, the dogs came leaping, the horns sounded, andthe proud king with his courtiers rode off to the sport. They had huntedall the morning, and were now in a deep wood. In the fields the sun hadbeat upon their heads, and they were glad of the shade of the trees; butthe proud king wished for something more. He saw a lake not far off, andhe said to his men: "Bide ye here, while I bathe in the lake and cool myself. " Then he rode apart till he came to the shore of the lake. There he gotdown from his horse, laid aside his clothes, and plunged into the coolwater. He swam about, and sometimes dived beneath the surface, and sowas once more cool and fresh. Now while the proud king was swimming away from the shore and diving tothe bottom, there came one who had the same face and form as the king. He drew near the shore, dressed himself in the king's clothes, mountedthe king's horse and rode away. So when the proud king was once morecool and fresh, and came to the place where he had left his clothes andhis horse, there were no clothes to be seen, and no horse. The proud king looked about, but saw no man. He called, but no one heardhim. The air was mild, but the wood was dark, and no sunshine camethrough to warm him after his cool bath. He walked by the shore of thelake and cast about in his mind what he should do. "I have it, " he cried at last. "Not far from here lives a knight. It wasbut a few days ago that I made him a knight and gave him a castle. Iwill go to him, and he will be glad enough to clothe his king. " The proud king wove some reeds into a mat and bound the mat about him, and then he walked to the castle of the knight. He beat loudly at thegate of the castle and called for the porter. The porter came and stoodbehind the gate. He did not draw the bolt at once, but asked:-- "Who is there?" "Open the gate, " said the proud king, "and you will see who I am. " The porter opened the gate, and was amazed at what he saw. "Who are you?" he asked. "Wretch!" said the proud king; "I am the emperor. Go to your master. Bidhim come to me with clothes. I have lost both clothes and horse. " "A pretty emperor!" the porter laughed. "The great emperor was here notan hour ago. He came with his court from a hunt. My master was with himand sat at meat with him. But stay you here. I will call my master. Oh, yes! I will show him the emperor, " and the porter wagged his beard andlaughed, and went within. He came forth again with the knight and pointed at the proud king. "There is the emperor!" he said. "Look at him! look at the greatemperor!" "Draw near, " said the proud king to the knight, "and kneel to me. I gavethee this castle. I made thee knight. I give thee now a greater gift. Igive thee the chance to clothe thy emperor with clothes of thine own. " "You dog!" cried the knight. "You fool! I have just ridden with theemperor, and have come back to my castle. Here!" he shouted to hisservants, "beat this fellow and drive him away from the gate. " The porter looked on and laughed. "Lay on well, " he said to the other servants. "It is not every day thatyou can flog an emperor. " Then they beat the proud king, and drove him from the gate of thecastle. "Base knight!" said the proud king. "I gave him all he has, and this ishow he repays me. I will punish him when I sit on my throne again. Iwill go to the duke who lives not far away. Him I have known all mydays. He will know me. He will know his emperor. " So he came to the gate of the duke's great hall, and knocked threetimes. At the third knock the porter opened the gate, and saw before hima man clad only in a mat of reeds, and stained and bleeding. "Go, I pray you, to the duke, " said the proud king, "and bid him come tome. Say to him that the emperor stands at the gate. He has been robbedof his clothes and of his horse. Go quickly to your master. " The porter closed the gate between them, and went within to the duke. "Your Grace, " said he, "there is a madman at the gate. He is unclad andwild. He bade me come to you and tell you that he was the emperor. " "Here is a strange thing indeed, " said the duke; "I will see it formyself. " So he went to the gate, followed by his servants, and when the porteropened it there stood the proud king. The proud king knew the duke, butthe duke saw only a bruised and beaten madman. "Do you not know me?" cried the proud king. "I am your emperor. Onlythis morning you were on the hunt with me. I left you that I might bathein the lake. While I was in the water, some wretch took both my clothesand my horse, and I--I have been beaten by a base knight. " "Put him in chains, " said the duke to his servants. "It is not safe tohave such a man free. Give him some straw to lie on, and some bread andwater. " The duke turned away and went back to his hall, where his friends sat attable. "That was a strange thing, " he said. "There was a madman at the gate. Hemust have been in the wood this morning, for he told me that I was onthe hunt with the emperor, and so I was; and he told me that theemperor went apart to bathe in the lake, and so he did. But he said thatsome one stole the clothes and the horse of the emperor, yet the emperorrode back to us cool and fresh, and clothed and on his horse. And hesaid"--And the duke looked around on his guests. "What did he say?" "He said that he was the emperor. " Then the guests fell to talking and laughing, and soon forgot thestrange thing. But the proud king lay in a dark prison, far even fromthe servants of the duke. He lay on straw, and chains bound his feet. "What is this that has come upon me?" he said. "Am I brought so low? AmI so changed that even the duke does not know me? At least there is onewho will know me, let me wear what I may. " Then, by much labor, he loosed the chains that bound him, and fled inthe night from the duke's prison. When the morning came, he stood at thedoor of his own palace. He stood there awhile; perhaps some one wouldopen the door and let him in. But no one came, and the proud king liftedhis hand and knocked; he knocked at the door of his own palace. Theporter came at last and looked at him. "Who are you?" he asked, "and what do you want?" "Do you not know me?" cried the proud king. "I am your master. I am theking. I am the emperor. Let me pass"; and he would have thrust himaside. But the porter was a strong man; he stood in the doorway, andwould not let the proud king enter. "You my master! you the emperor! poor fool, look here!" and he held theproud king by the arm while he pointed to a hall beyond. There sat theemperor on his throne, and by his side was the queen. "Let me go to her! she will know me, " cried the proud king, and he triedto break away from the porter. The noise without was heard in the hall. The nobles came out, and last of all came the emperor and the queen. When the proud king saw these two, he could not speak. He was chokedwith rage and fear, and he knew not what. "You know me!" at last he cried. "I am your lord and husband. " The queen shrank back. "Friends, " said the man who stood by her, "what shall be done to thiswretch?" "Kill him, " said one. "Put out his eyes, " said another. "Beat him, " said a third. Then they all hustled the proud king out of the palace court. Each onegave him a blow, and so he was thrust out, and the door was shut behindhim. The proud king fled, he knew not whither. He wished he were dead. By andby he came to the lake where he had bathed. He sat down on the shore. Itwas like a dream, but he knew he was awake, for he was cold and hungryand faint. Then he knelt on the ground and beat his breast, and said: "I am no emperor. I am no king. I am a poor, sinful man. Once I thoughtthere was no one greater than I, on earth or in heaven. Now I know thatI am nothing, and there is no one so poor and so mean. God forgive mefor my pride. " As he said this, tears stood in his eyes. He wiped them away and rose tohis feet. Close by him he saw the clothes which he had once laid aside. Near at hand was his horse, eating the soft grass. The king put on hisclothes; he mounted his horse and rode to his palace. As he drew near, the door opened and servants came forth. One held his horse; anotherhelped him dismount. The porter bowed low. "I marvel I did not see thee pass out, my lord, " he said. The king entered, and again saw the nobles in the great hall. Therestood the queen also, and by her side was the man who called himselfemperor. But the queen and the nobles did not look at him; they lookedat the king, and came forward to meet him. This man also came forward, but he was clad in shining white, and not inthe robes of the emperor. The king bowed his head before him. "I am thy angel, " said the man. "Thou wert proud, and made thyself to beset on high. Therefore thou hast been brought low. I have watched overthy kingdom. Now I give it back to thee, for thou art once again humble, and the humble only are fit to rule. " Then the angel disappeared. No one else heard his voice, and the noblesthought the king had bowed to them. So the king once more sat on thethrone, and ruled wisely and humbly ever after. 413 Eva March Tappan (1854--) has compiled many books for children, including the popular collection in ten volumes called _The Children's Hour_. Among her most delightful books is _Robin Hood: His Book_, from which the following story is taken, (by permission of the publishers, Little, Brown & Co. , Boston). Some few moralists have been distressed about giving stories of an outlaw to children, but Robin Hood was really the champion of the people against tyrannous oppression and injustice. This is the fact that children never miss, and the thing that endears Robin and his followers in Lincoln green. There is, of course, the further interesting fact that these stories take place out in the open and have the charm that comes from adventures and wanderings through the secrecies of ancient Sherwood Forest. Against this outdoor background are displayed the good old "virtues of courage, forbearance, gentleness, courtesy, justice, and championship. " ROBIN AND THE MERRY LITTLE OLD WOMAN EVA MARCH TAPPAN "Monday I wash and Tuesday I iron, Wednesday I cook and I mend; Thursday I brew and Friday I sweep, And baking day brings the end. " So sang the merry little old woman as she sat at her wheel and spun; butwhen she came to the last line she really could not help pushing backthe flax-wheel and springing to her feet. Then she held out her skirtand danced a gay little jig as she sang, -- "Hey down, down, an a down!" She curtseyed to one side of the room and then to another, and beforeshe knew it she was curtseying to a man who stood in the open door. "Oh, oh, oh!" cried the merry little old woman. "Whatever shall I do? Anold woman ought to sit and spin and not be dancing like a young girl. Oh, but it's Master Robin! Glad am I to set eyes on you, Master Robin. Come in, and I'll throw my best cloak over the little stool for acushion. Don't be long standing on the threshold, Master Robin. " "It'll mayhap come to pass that I'll wish I had something to stand on, "said Robin, grimly, "for the proud bishop is in the forest, and he'safter me with all his men. It's night and day that he's been followingme, and now he's caught me surely. You've no meal chest, have you, andyou've no press, and you've no feather-bed that'll hide me? There's butthe one wee bit room, and there's not even a mousehole. " The little woman's heart beat fast. What could she do? "I mind me well of a Saturday night, " said she, "when I'd but littlefirewood and it was bitter cold, that you and your men brought me suchfine logs as the great folks at the hall don't have; and then you camein yourself and gave me a pair of shoon and some brand-new hosen, allsoft and fine and woolly--I don't believe the king himself has such apair--oh, Master Robin, I've thought of something. Give me your mantleof green and your fine gray tunic, and do you put on my kirtle andjacket and gown, and tie my red and blue kerchief over your head--yougave it to me yourself, you did; it was on Easter Day in themorning--and do you sit down at the wheel and spin. See, you put yourfoot on the treadle _so_, to turn the wheel, and you twist the flax withyour fingers _so_. Don't you get up, but just turn the wheel and grumbleand mumble to yourself. " It was not long before the bishop and all his men came riding up to thelittle old woman's house. The bishop thrust open the door and called:-- "Old woman, what have you done with Robin Hood?" but Robin sat grumblingand mumbling at the wheel and answered never a word to the proud bishop. "She's mayhap daft, " said one of the bishop's men. "We'll soon findhim"; and in a minute he had looked up the chimney and behind thedresser and under the wooden bedstead. Then he turned to the cornercupboard. "You're daft yourself, " said the bishop, "to look in that little placefor a strong man like Robin. " And all the time the spinner at the wheelsat grumbling and mumbling. It was a queer thread that was wound on thespool, but no one thought of that. It was Robin that they wanted, andthey cared little what kind of thread an old woman in a cottage wasa-spinning. "He's here, your Reverence, " called a man who had opened the lower doorof the corner cupboard. "Bring him out and set him on the horse, " ordered the bishop, "and seeto it that you treat him like a wax candle in the church. The king'sbidden that the thief and outlaw be brought to him, and I well knowhe'll hang the rogue on a gallows so high that it will show over thewhole kingdom; but he has given orders that no one shall have the rewardif the rascal has but a bruise on his finger, save that it came in afair fight. " So the merry little old woman in Robin's tunic and Robin's green cloakwas set gently on a milk-white steed. The bishop himself mounted adapple-gray, and down the road they went. It was the cheeriest party that one can imagine. The bishop wentlaughing all the way for pure delight that he had caught Robin Hood. Hetold more stories than one could make up in an age of leap-years, andthey were all about where he went and what he did in the days before hebecame bishop. The men were so happy at the thought of having the greatreward the king had offered that they laughed at the bishop's storieslouder than any one had ever laughed at them before. And as for themerry little old woman, she had the gayest time of all, though she hadto keep her face muffled in her hood, and couldn't laugh aloud the leastbit, and couldn't jump down from the great white horse and dance the gaylittle jig that her feet were fairly aching to try. While the merry little old woman was riding off with the bishop and hismen, Robin sat at the flax-wheel and spun and spun till he could nolonger hear the beat of the horses' hoofs on the hard ground. No timehad he to take off the kirtle and the jacket and the kerchief of red andblue, for no one knew when the proud bishop might find out that he hadthe wrong prisoner, and would come galloping back to the cottage on theborder of the forest. "If I can only get to my good men and true!" thought Robin; and hesprang up from the little flax-wheel with the distaff in his hand, andran out of the open door. All the long day had Robin been away from his bowmen, and as thetwilight time drew near, they were more and more fearful of what mighthave befallen him. They went to the edge of the forest, and there theysat with troubled faces. "I've heard that the sheriff was seen but two days ago on the easternside of the wood, " said Much the miller's son. "And the proud bishop's not in his palace, " muttered Will Scarlet. "Where he's gone I know not, but may the saints keep Master Robin frommeeting him. He hates us men of the greenwood worse than the sheriffdoes, and he'd hang any one of us to the nearest oak. " "He'd not hang Master Robin, " declared Much the miller's son, "for thebishop likes good red gold, and the king's offered a great reward forhim alive and unhurt. " The others laughed, but in a moment they weregrave again, and peered anxiously through the trees in one way and thenin another, while nearer came the twilight. "There are folks who say the forest is haunted, " said Little John. "Inever saw anything, but one night when I was close to the little blackpond that lies to the westward, I heard a cry that wasn't from bird orbeast; I know that. " "And didn't you see anything?" asked Much the miller's son. "No, " answered Little John, "but where there's a cry, there's somethingto make the cry, and it wasn't bird or beast; I'm as sure of that as Iam that my name is Little John. " "But it isn't, " declared Friar Tuck. "You were christened John Little. "No one smiled, for they were too much troubled about Robin. "When I was a youngster, " said William Scarlet, "I had an old nurse, andshe told me that a first cousin of hers knew a woman whose husband wasgoing through the forest by night, and he saw a witch carry a roundbundle under her arm. It was wrapped up in a brown kerchief; and whilehe looked, the wind blew the kerchief away, and he saw that the roundbundle was a man's head. The mouth of it opened and called, 'Help!help!' He shot an arrow through the old witch, and then he said to thehead, 'Where do you want to go? Whose head are you?' The head answered, 'I'm your head, and I want to go on your shoulders. ' Then he put up hishand, and, sure enough, his own head was gone, and there it lay on theground beside the dead witch with the arrow sticking through her. Hetook up the head and set it on his shoulders. This was the story that hetold when he came back in the morning, but no one knew whether really tobelieve it all or not. After that night he always carried his head a biton one side, and some said it was because he hadn't set it back quitestraight: but there are some folks that won't believe anything unlessthey see it themselves, and they said he had had a drink or two morethan he should and that he took cold in his neck from sleeping with hishead on the wet moss. " "Everybody knows there are witches, " said Will Scarlet, "and folks saythat wherever they may be through the day, they run to the forest whenthe sun begins to sink, and while they're running they can't say anymagic words to hurt a man if he shoots them. " "What's that?" whispered Much the miller's son softly, and he fitted anarrow to the string. "Wait; make a cross on it first, " said Little John. Something was flitting over the little moor. The soft gray mist hid thelower part of it, but the men could see what looked like the upper partof a woman's body, scurrying along through the fog in some mysteriousfashion. Its arms were tossing wildly about, and it seemed to bebeckoning. The head was covered with what might have been a kerchief, but it was too dusky to see clearly. "Don't shoot till it's nearer, " whispered William Scarlet. "They say ifyou hurt a witch and don't kill her outright, you'll go mad foreverafter. " Nearer came the witch, but still Much the miller's son waited with hisbow bent and the arrow aimed. The witch ran under the low bough of atree, the kerchief was caught on a broken limb, and-- "Why, it's Master Robin!" shouted Much the miller's son. "It's MasterRobin himself"; and so it was. No time had he taken to throw off thegray kirtle and the black jacket and the blue and red kerchief about hishead; for as soon as ever he could no longer hear the tramp of thehorses's hoofs, he had run with the distaff still in his hand to theshelter of the good greenwood and the help of his own faithful men andtrue. Meanwhile the bishop was still telling stories of what he did before hewas a bishop, and the men were laughing at them, and the merry littleold woman was having the gayest time of all, even though she dared notlaugh out loud. Now that the bishop had caught Robin Hood he had no fear of thegreenwood rangers; and as the forest road was much nearer than thehighway, down the forest road the happy company went. The merry littleold woman had sometimes sat on a pillion and ridden a farm beast fromthe plough; but to be on a great horse like this, one that held his headso high and stepped so carefully where it was rough, and galloped solightly and easily where it was smooth--why, she had never even dreamedof such a magnificent ride. Not a word did she speak, not even when thebishop began to tell her that no gallows would be high enough to hangsuch a wicked outlaw. "You've stolen gold from the knights, " said he, "you've stolen from the sheriff of Nottingham, and you've even stolenfrom me. Glad am I to see Robin Hood--but what's that?" the bishopcried. "Who are those men, and who is their leader? And who are you?" hedemanded of the merry little old woman. Now the little woman had been taught to order herself lowly andreverently to all her betters, so before she answered the bishop sheslipped down from the tall white horse and made a deep curtsey to thegreat man. "If you please, sir, " said she, "I think it's Robin Hood and his men. " "And who are you?" he demanded again. "Oh, I'm nobody but a little old woman that lives in a cottage alone andspins, " and then she sang in a lightsome little chirrup of a voice:-- "Monday I wash and Tuesday I iron, Wednesday I cook and I mend; Thursday I brew and Friday I sweep, And baking day brings the end. " I fear that the bishop did not hear the little song, for the arrows wereflying thick and fast. The little old woman slipped behind a big tree, and there she danced her "Hey down, down, an a down!" to her heart's content, while the fighting went on. It was not long before the great bishop was Robin's prisoner, and ere hecould go free, he had to open his strong leather wallet and count outmore gold than the moon had shone on in the forest for many and many anight. He laid down the goldpieces one by one, and at every piece hegave a groan that seemed to come from the very bottom of his boots. "That's for all the world like the cry I heard from the little blackpond to the westward, " said Little John. "It wasn't like bird and itwasn't like beast, and now I know what it was; it was the soul of astingy man, and he had to count over and over the money that he ought tohave given away when he was alive. " As for the merry little old woman, she was a prisoner too, and such atime as she had! First there was a bigger feast than she had everdreamed of before, and every man of Robin's followers was bound that sheshould eat the bit that he thought was nicest. They made her a littlethrone of soft green moss, and on it they laid their hunting cloaks. They built a shelter of fresh boughs over her head, and then they sangsongs to her. They set up great torches all round about the glade. Theywrestled and they vaulted and they climbed. They played every game thatcould be played by torchlight, and it was all to please the kind littlewoman who had saved the life of their master. The merry little woman sat and clapped her hands at all their feats, andshe laughed until she cried. Then she wiped her eyes and sang them herone little song. The men shouted and cheered, and cheered and shouted, and the woodsechoed so long and so loud that one would have thought they, too, weretrying to shout. By and by the company all set out together to carry the little old womanto her cottage. She was put upon their very best and safest horse, andRobin Hood would have none lead it but himself. After the horse came along line of good bowmen and true. One carried a new cloak of the finestwool. Another bore a whole armful of silken kerchiefs to make up for theone that Robin had worn away. There were "shoon and hosen, " and therewas cloth of scarlet and of blue, and there were soft, warm blankets forher bed. There were so many things that when they were all piled up inthe little cottage, there was no chance for one tenth of the men to getinto the room. Those that were outside pushed up to the window andstretched their heads in at the door: and they tried their best to pileup the great heap of things so she could have room to go to bed thatnight and to cook her breakfast in the morning. "And to-morrow's sweeping day, " cried Robin. "'Thursday I brew andFriday I sweep, ' and how'll she sweep if she has no floor?" "We'll have to make her a floor, " declared Friar Tuck. "So we will, " said Robin. "There's a good man not far away who can workin wood, and he shall come in the morning and build her another room. " "Oh, oh!" cried the merry little old woman with delight, "I neverthought I should have a house with two rooms; but I'll always care forthis room the most, for there's just where Master Robin stood when hecame in at the door, and there's where he sat when he was spinning theflax. But, Master Robin, Master Robin, did any one ever see such athread as you've left on the spool!" It was so funny that the merry little old woman really couldn't helpjumping up and dancing. "Hey down, down, an a down!" And then the brave men and true all said good-night and went back to theforest. 414 All attempts to prove the historical existence of Robin Hood have been unsuccessful. His story has come down to us in a group of old folk ballads, about forty in number, dating from about the beginning of the fifteenth century. One of these old ballads is given below. They were sung to a recurrent melody, which was as much a part of them as the words of the story. Other ballads in the group that are likely to be very interesting to children are "Robin Hood and Little John, " "Robin Hood and Maid Marian, " "Robin Hood Rescuing the Three Squires, " "Robin Hood's Death and Burial. " The best source for these ballads is Child's _English and Scottish Popular Ballads_ (ed. Sargent and Kittredge). Tennyson dramatized the Robin Hood story in _The Foresters_, as did Alfred Noyes in _Sherwood_. Reginald De Koven made a very successful comic opera out of it, while Thomas Love Peacock's _Maid Marian_ is an interesting novelization of the theme. ALLEN-A-DALE Come listen to me, you gallants so free, All you that love mirth for to hear, And I will tell you of a bold outlaw, That lived in Nottinghamshire. As Robin Hood in the forest stood, All under the greenwood tree, There was he ware of a brave young man, As fine as fine might be. The youngster was clothed in scarlet red, In scarlet fine and gay, And he did frisk it over the plain, And chanted a roundelay. As Robin Hood next morning stood, Amongst the leaves so gay, There did he spy the same young man Come drooping along the way. The scarlet he wore the day before, It was clean cast away; And every step he fetched a sigh, "Alack! and well-a-day!" Then stepped forth brave Little John. And Nick, the miller's son, Which made the young man bend his bow, When as he saw them come. "Stand off! stand off!" the young man said; "What is your will with me?" "You must come before our master straight, Under yon greenwood tree. " And when he came bold Robin before, Robin asked him courteously, "O hast thou any money to spare For my merry men and me?" "I have no money, " the young man said, "But five shillings and a ring; And that I have kept this seven long years, To have it at my wedding. "Yesterday I should have married a maid, But she is now from me ta'en, And chosen to be an old knight's delight, Whereby my poor heart is slain. " "What is thy name?" then said Robin Hood; "Come tell me without any fail. " "By the faith of my body, " then said the young man, "My name it is Allen-a-Dale. " "What wilt thou give me, " said Robin Hood, "In ready gold or fee, To help thee to thy truelove again, And deliver her unto thee?" "I have no money, " then quoth the young man, "No ready gold nor fee, But I will swear upon a book Thy true servant for to be. " "How many miles is it to thy truelove? Come tell me without any guile:" "By the faith of my body, " then said the young man, "It is but five little mile. " Then Robin he hasted over the plain, He did neither stint nor lin, Until he came unto the church Where Allen should keep his wedding. "What dost thou here?" the bishop he said, "I prithee now tell to me" "I am a bold harper, " quoth Robin Hood, "And the best in the north country. " "O welcome, O welcome, " the bishop he said. "That music best pleaseth me. " "You shall have no music, " quoth Robin Hood, "Till the bride and bridegroom I see. " With that came in a wealthy knight, Which was both grave and old, And after him a finikin lass, Did shine like glistering gold. "This is no fit match, " quoth bold Robin Hood, "That you do seem to make here; For since we are come unto the church, The bride she shall choose her own dear. " Then Robin Hood put his horn to his mouth, And blew blasts two or three; When four and twenty bowmen bold Came leaping over the lea. And when they came into the churchyard, Marching all in a row, The first man was Allen-a-Dale, To give bold Robin his bow. "This is thy truelove, " Robin he said, "Young Allen, as I hear say; And you shall be married at this same time, Before we depart away. " "That shall not be, " the bishop he said, "For thy word shall not stand; They shall be three times asked in the church, As the law is of our land. " Robin Hood pulled off the bishop's coat, And put it upon Little John; "By the faith of my body, " then Robin said, "This cloth doth make thee a man. " When Little John went into the choir, The people began for to laugh; He asked them seven times in the church, Lest three times should not be enough. "Who gives me this maid?" then said Little John; Quoth Robin, "That do I, And he that doth take her from Allen-a-Dale Full dearly he shall her buy. " And thus having ended this merry wedding, The bride looked as fresh as a queen, And so they returned to the merry greenwood, Amongst the leaves so green. SECTION XI BIOGRAPHY AND HERO STORIES BIBLIOGRAPHY Abbott, J. S. C. , _Christopher Carson_. _David Crockett. _ Antin, Mary, _The Promised Land_. Baldwin, James, _Four Great Americans_. [Washington, Franklin, Webster, Lincoln. ] _An American Book of Golden Deeds. _ Bolton, Sarah K. , _Lives of Girls Who Became Famous_. _Lives of Poor Boys Who Became Famous. _ Boutet de Monvel, Louis Maurice, _Joan of Arc_. Brooks, Elbridge S. , _True Story of Christopher Columbus_. Cody, Col. W. F. , _Adventures of Buffalo Bill_. Franklin, Benjamin, _Autobiography_. Golding, V. , _Story of David Livingston_. Gould, F. J. , _The Children's Plutarch_. [2 vols. , one of Greeks, the other of Romans. ] Hathaway, Esse V. , _Napoleon, the Little Corsican_. Hughes, Thomas, _Alfred the Great_. Jefferson, Joseph, _Autobiography_. Jenks, Tudor, _Captain John Smith_. Keller, Helen, _The Story of My Life_. Larcom, Lucy, _A New England Girlhood_. Mabie, Hamilton W. , _Heroines Every Child Should Know_. Moores, Charles W. , _Life of Abraham Lincoln for Boys and Girls_. Muir, John, _Story of My Boyhood and Youth_. Nicolay, Helen, _Boy's Life of Abraham Lincoln_. Page, Thomas Nelson, _Robert E. Lee: Man and Soldier_. Paine, Albert Bigelow, _Boy's Life of Mark Twain_. Quiller-Couch, Sir Arthur, _Roll Call of Honor_. [Bolivar, John Brown, Abraham Lincoln, Garibaldi, David Livingston, Florence Nightingale, Pasteur, Gordon, Father Damien. ] Richards, Laura E. , _Florence Nightingale_. Riis, Jacob, _Making of an American_. Roosevelt, Theodore, and Lodge, Henry Cabot, _Hero Tales from American History_. Scudder, Horace E. , _George Washington_. Shaw, Anna Howard, _The Story of a Pioneer_. Tarbell, Ida M. , _Life of Abraham Lincoln_. Thwaites, Reuben G. , _Daniel Boone_. Washington, Booker T. , _Up from Slavery_. White, John S. , _Boys' and Girls' Plutarch_. [Preserves parallel arrangement. ] Yonge, Charlotte M. , _A Book of Golden Deeds_. SECTION XI. BIOGRAPHY AND HERO STORIES INTRODUCTORY _Biography and its value. _ The great charm of biography for both youngand old is in its perfect concreteness. Nothing fascinates like thestory of a real person at grips with realities. Nothing inspires likethe story of a hard-won victory over difficulties. Here are instances ofmen and women, our own kindred, facing great crises in the physical ormoral realm with the calm courage and the clear mind of which we havedreamed. Here are others who have fought the brave fight in oppositionto the stupidities and long-entrenched prejudices of their fellows. Hereare still others who have wrested from nature her innermost secrets, whohave won for us immunity against lurking diseases and dangers, who havelabored successfully against great odds to make life more safe, morecomfortable, or more beautiful. All these records of real accomplishmentappeal to the youthful spirit of emulation, and there can be no strongerinspiration in facing the unsolved problems of the future. "What menhave done men can still do. " _The material and its presentation. _ Most teachers will find thebiographical or historical story easier to handle than the imaginativestory, because there is a definite outline of fact from which to work. Only those life stories with which the teacher is in sympathy can behandled satisfactorily. For that reason no definite list of suitablematerial is worth much, except as illustrating the wide range of choice. Keeping these limitations in mind, we may venture a few practical hints: 1. There is a large list of heroic figures hovering on the border line between reality and legend of whose stories children never tire. In such a list are the names of Leonidas, who held the pass at Thermopylae, William Tell and Arnold von Winkelried, favorite heroes of Switzerland, Robert Bruce of Scotland, and that pair of immortally faithful friends, Damon and Pythias. 2. With Marco Polo we may visit the wonderlands of the East, we may go with Captain Cook through the islands of the southern seas, with Stanley through darkest Africa, with the brave Scott in his tragic dash for the South Pole. Best of all, perhaps, we may, with Columbus, discover another America. 3. How Elihu Burritt became the "learned blacksmith, " how Hugh Miller brought himself to be an authority on the old red sandstone, are always inspiring stories to the ambitious student. And in any list of achievements by those bound in by untoward circumstance must be placed that of Booker T. Washington as told by himself in _Up from Slavery_. 4. From our earlier history we may draw upon such lives as those of Franklin, Washington, and Patrick Henry. There are numberless stirring episodes from the careers of Francis Marion, Israel Putnam, Nathan Hale, and others that will occur to any reader of our history. Lincoln's life history offers an almost inexhaustible treasure. Grant, grimly silent and persevering, and Lee, kindly gentleman and military genius, belong in any course that stresses our national achievements. 5. Stories of men who have mastered the secrets of the forces of nature never fail of interest. Stephenson and the locomotive engine, Sir Humphry Davy and the safety lamp, Whitney and the cotton gin, Marconi and the wonders of wireless communication, the Wright brothers and the airplane, Edison and the incandescant light and the motion picture, Luther Burbank and his marvelous work with plants--these are only a few to place near the head of any list. 6. Especially interesting for work in the grades are the stories of the pioneer and plainsman days, of Kit Carson, Davy Crockett, Daniel Boone, and Buffalo Bill. 7. We must not neglect stories of achievement by those who have been handicapped by great physical disability, such as are found in the careers of Henry Fawcett, the blind statesman of England, and of our own Helen Keller, whose _Story of My Life_ has become a classic source of material. 8. The life of Joan of Arc has long been a supreme favorite for biographical story. Its simple directness, its fiery patriotism, its pathetic and tragic close, give it all the force of some great consciously designed masterpiece. The events of such a life can be arranged in a series or cycle of stories. Of very different type, but of almost equally strong appeal, is the story of the work of Florence Nightingale, whose efforts among the British soldiers in the terrible scenes of the Crimean War set in motion those humanitarian enterprises so splendidly exemplified in the work of the Red Cross organizations. 9. Finally, no teacher should fail to make use of many modern careers that impress upon children the devotion of lives spent in bettering the conditions under which people live. Among some of these may be mentioned Colonel George E. Waring, the sanitary engineer who really cleaned the streets of New York; General W. C. Gorgas, who led in the conquest of the great yellow fever plague; Dr. Wilfred Grenfell, still spending his life for the natives of bleak Labrador; and the famous French scientist, Louis Pasteur, who found out for us how to preserve milk and how to escape the dread hydrophobia. Such careers devoted to ameliorating the evils incident to civilization are of great value in stirring into active existence the latent spirit of service in every pupil. 10. Wide-awake teachers will constantly find in the periodicals of the day many episodes of achievement by men and women working in various fields of helpfulness. Such present-day accomplishments should be emphasized. We live in the present, and the duties and opportunities of the present are to furnish the inspirations and indicate the fields of possible achievement for us. SUGGESTIONS FOR READING For a very practical discussion of biographical stories see Lyman, _Story Telling_, chap. V. The great classic sources of inspiration on the subject are Carlyle, _Heroes and Hero Worship_, and Emerson, _Representative Men_. Of special value is the opening chapter in the latter book, "Uses of Great Men. " 415 Elbridge S. Brooks (1846-1902) was a well-known American writer of juvenile books on history, government, and biography. His _True Story of Christopher Columbus_, from which the following selection was taken, is a well-written book that pupils in the fifth and sixth grades read with pleasure. _The Century Book for Young Americans_ is a story of our government. Other books by the same author are _The True Story of George Washington_, _The True Story of Lafayette_, and _The True Story of U. S. Grant_. ("How Columbus Got His Ships" is used here by permission of the publishers, Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. , Boston. ) HOW COLUMBUS GOT HIS SHIPS ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS When Columbus was at school he had studied about a certain man namedPythagoras, who had lived in Greece thousands of years before he wasborn, and who had said that the earth was round "like a ball or anorange. " As Columbus grew older and made maps and studied the sea, andread books and listened to what other people said, he began to believethat this man named Pythagoras might be right, and that the earth wasround, though everybody declared it was flat. "If it is round, " he saidto himself, "what is the use of trying to sail around Africa to get toCathay? Why not just sail west from Italy or Spain and keep going rightaround the world until you strike Cathay? I believe it could be done, "said Columbus. By this time Columbus was a man. He was thirty years old and was a greatsailor. He had been captain of a number of vessels; he had sailed northand south and east; he knew all about a ship and all about the sea. But, though he was a good sailor, when he said that he believed the earth wasround, everybody laughed at him and said that he was crazy. "Why, howcan the earth be round?" they cried. "The water would all spill out ifit were, and the men who live on the other side would all be standing ontheir heads with their feet waving in the air. " And then they laughedall the harder. But Columbus did not think it was anything to laugh at. He believed itso strongly and felt so sure that he was right, that he set to work tofind some king or prince or great lord to let him have ships and sailorsand money enough to try to find a way to Cathay by sailing out into theWest and across the Atlantic Ocean. Now this Atlantic Ocean, the western waves of which break upon our rocksand beaches, was thought in Columbus's day to be a dreadful place. People called it the Sea of Darkness, because they did not know what wason the other side of it, or what dangers lay beyond that distant bluerim where the sky and water seem to meet, and which we call the horizon. They thought the ocean stretched to the end of a flat world, straightaway to a sort of "jumping-off place, " and that in this jumping-offplace were giants and goblins and dragons and monsters and all sorts ofterrible things that would catch the ships and destroy them and thesailors. So when Columbus said that he wanted to sail away toward this dreadfuljumping-off place, the people said that he was worse than crazy. Theysaid he was a wicked man and ought to be punished. But they could not frighten Columbus. He kept on trying. He went fromplace to place trying to get the ships and sailors he wanted and wasbound to have. As you will see later, he tried to get help wherever hethought it could be had. He asked the people of his own home, the cityof Genoa, where he had lived and played when a boy; he asked the peopleof the beautiful city that is built in the sea--Venice; he tried theking of Portugal, the king of England, the king of France, the king andqueen of Spain. But for a long time nobody cared to listen to such awild and foolish and dangerous plan--to go to Cathay by the way of theSea of Darkness and the jumping-off place. "You would never get therealive, " they said. And so Columbus waited. And his hair grew white while he waited, thoughhe was not yet an old man. He had thought and worked and hoped so muchthat he began to look like an old man when he was forty years old. Butstill he would never say that perhaps he was wrong, after all. He saidhe knew he was right, and that some day he should find the Indies andsail to Cathay. I do not wish you to think that Columbus was the first man to say thatthe earth was round, or the first to sail to the West over the AtlanticOcean. He was not. Other men had said that they believed the earth wasround; other men had sailed out into the Atlantic Ocean. But no sailorwho believed the earth was round had ever tried to prove that it was bycrossing the Atlantic. So, you see, Columbus was really the first man tosay, I believe the earth is round and I will show you that it is bysailing to the lands that are on the other side of the earth. He even figured out how far it was around the world. Your geography, youknow, tells you now that what is called the circumference of theearth--that is, a straight line drawn right around it--is nearlytwenty-five thousand miles. Columbus had figured it up pretty carefullyand he thought it was about twenty thousand miles. "If I could startfrom Genoa, " he said, "and walk straight ahead until I got back to Genoaagain, I should walk about twenty thousand miles. " Cathay, he thought, would take up so much land on the other side of the world that, if hewent west instead of east, he would only need to sail about twenty-fivehundred or three thousand miles. If you have studied your geography carefully you will see what a mistakehe made. It is really about twelve thousand miles from Spain to China (or Cathayas he called it). But America is just about three thousand miles fromSpain, and if you read all this story you will see how Columbus'smistake really helped him to discover America. I have told you that Columbus had a longing to do something great fromthe time when, as a little boy, he had hung around the wharves in Genoaand looked at the ships sailing east and west and talked with thesailors and wished that he could go to sea. Perhaps what he had learnedat school--how some men said that the earth was round--and what he hadlearned on the wharves about the wonders of Cathay set him to thinkingand dreaming that it might be possible for a ship to sail around theworld without falling off. At any rate, he kept on thinking and dreamingand longing until, at last, he began doing. Some of the sailors sent out by Prince Henry of Portugal, of whom I havetold you, in their trying to sail around Africa discovered two groupsof islands out in the Atlantic that they called the Azores, or Isles ofHawks, and the Canaries, or Isles of Dogs. When Columbus was in Portugalin 1470 he became acquainted with a young woman whose name was PhilippaPerestrelo. In 1473 he married her. Now Philippa's father, before his death, had been governor of PortoSanto, one of the Azores, and Columbus and his wife went off there tolive. In the governor's house Columbus found a lot of charts and mapsthat told him about parts of the ocean that he had never before seen, and made him feel certain that he was right in saying that if he sailedaway to the West he should find Cathay. At that time there was an old man who lived in Florence, a city ofItaly. His name was Toscanelli. He was a great scholar and studied thestars and made maps, and was a very wise man. Columbus knew what a wiseold scholar Toscanelli was, for Florence is not very far from Genoa. Sowhile he was living in the Azores he wrote to this old scholar askinghim what he thought about his idea that a man could sail around theworld until he reached the land called the Indies and at last foundCathay. Toscanelli wrote to Columbus saying that he believed his idea was theright one, and he said it would be a grand thing to do, if Columbusdared to try it. "Perhaps, " he said, "you can find all those splendidthings that I know are in Cathay--the great cities with marble bridges, the houses of marble covered with gold, the jewels and the spices andthe precious stones, and all the other wonderful and magnificent things. I do not wonder you wish to try, " he said, "for if you find Cathay itwill be a wonderful thing for you and for Portugal. " That settled it with Columbus. If this wise old scholar said he wasright, he must be right. So he left his home in the Azores and went toPortugal. This was in 1475, and from that time on, for seventeen longyears he was trying to get some king or prince to help him sail to theWest to find Cathay. But not one of the people who could have helped him, if they had reallywished to, believed in Columbus. As I told you, they said that he wascrazy. The king of Portugal, whose name was John, did a very unkindthing--I am sure you would call it a mean trick. Columbus had gone tohim with his story and asked for ships and sailors. The king and hischief men refused to help him; but King John said to himself, "Perhapsthere is something in this worth looking after and, if so, perhaps I canhave my own people find Cathay and save the money that Columbus willwant to keep for himself as his share of what he finds. " So one day hecopied off the sailing directions that Columbus had left with him, andgave them to one of his own captains without letting Columbus knowanything about it. The Portuguese captain sailed away to the West in thedirection Columbus had marked down, but a great storm came up and sofrightened the sailors that they turned around in a hurry. Then theyhunted up Columbus and began to abuse him for getting them into such ascrape. "You might as well expect to find land in the sky, " they said, "as in those terrible waters. " And when, in this way, Columbus found out that King John had tried touse his ideas without letting him know anything about it, he was veryangry. His wife had died in the midst of this mean trick of thePortuguese king, and so, taking with him his little five-year-old son, Diego, he left Portugal secretly and went over into Spain. Near the little town of Palos, in western Spain, is a green hill lookingout toward the Atlantic. Upon this hill stands an old building that, four hundred years ago, was used as a convent or home for priests. Itwas called the Convent of Rabida, and the priest at the head of it wasnamed the Friar Juan Perez. One autumn day, in the year 1484, Friar JuanPerez saw a dusty traveler with a little boy talking with thegate-keeper of the convent. The stranger was so tall and fine-looking, and seemed such an interesting man, that Friar Juan went out and beganto talk with him. This man was Columbus. As they talked, the priest grew more and more interested in whatColumbus said. He invited him into the convent to stay for a few days, and he asked some other people--the doctors of Palos and some of the seacaptains and sailors of the town--to come and talk with this strangerwho had such a singular idea about sailing across the Atlantic. It ended in Columbus's staying some months in Palos, waiting for achance to go and see the king and queen. At last, in 1485, he set outfor the Spanish court with a letter to a priest who was a friend ofFriar Juan's, and who could help him to see the king and queen. At that time the king and queen of Spain were fighting to drive out ofSpain the people called the Moors. These people came from Africa, butthey had lived in Spain for many years and had once been a very rich andpowerful nation. They were not Spaniards; they were not Christians. Soall Spaniards and all Christians hated them and tried to drive them outof Europe. The king and queen of Spain who were fighting the Moors were namedFerdinand and Isabella. They were pretty good people as kings and queenswent in those days, but they did a great many very cruel and very meanthings, just as the kings and queens of those days were apt to do. I amafraid we should not think they were very nice people nowadays. Wecertainly should not wish our American boys and girls to look up to themas good and true and noble. When Columbus first came to them, they were with the army in the campnear the city of Cordova. The king and queen had no time to listen towhat they thought were crazy plans, and poor Columbus could get no oneto talk with him who could be of any help. So he was obliged to go backto drawing maps and selling books to make enough money to supporthimself and his little Diego. But at last, through the friend of good Friar Juan Perez of Rabida, whowas a priest at the court, and named Talavera, and to whom he had aletter of introduction, Columbus found a chance to talk over his planswith a number of priests and scholars in the city of Salamanca wherethere was a famous college and many learned men. Columbus told his story. He said what he wished to do, and asked theselearned men to say a good word for him to Ferdinand and Isabella so thathe could have the ships and sailors to sail to Cathay. But it was of nouse. "What! sail away around the world?" those wise men cried in horror. "Why, you are crazy! The world is not round; it is flat. Your shipswould tumble off the edge of the world and all the king's money and allthe king's men would be lost. No, no; go away; you must not trouble thequeen or even mention such a ridiculous thing again. " So the most of them said. But one or two thought it might be worthtrying. Cathay was a very rich country, and if this foolish fellow werewilling to run the risk and did succeed, it would be a good thing forSpain, as the king and queen would need a great deal of money after thewar with the Moors was over. At any rate, it was a chance worth thinkingabout. And so, although Columbus was dreadfully disappointed, he thought thatif he had only a few friends at Court who were ready to say a good wordfor him he must not give up, but must try, try again. And so he stayedin Spain. When you wish very much to do a certain thing, it is dreadfully hard tobe patient: it is harder still to have to wait. Columbus had to do both. The wars against the Moors were of much greater interest to the king andqueen of Spain than was the finding of a new and very uncertain way toget to Cathay. If it had not been for the patience and what we call thepersistence of Columbus, America would never have been discovered--atleast not in his time. He stayed in Spain. He grew poorer and poorer. He was almost friendless. It seemed as if his great enterprise must be given up. But he never losthope. He never stopped trying. Even when he failed, he kept on hopingand kept on trying. He felt certain that sometime he should succeed. As we have seen, he tried to interest the rulers of different countries, but without success. He tried to get help from his old home-town ofGenoa and failed; he tried Portugal and failed; he tried the Republic ofVenice and failed; he tried the king and queen of Spain and failed; hetried some of the richest and most powerful of the nobles of Spain andfailed; he tried the king of England (whom he got his brother, Bartholomew Columbus, to see) and failed. There was still left the kingof France. He would make one last attempt to win the king and queen ofSpain to his side and if he failed with them he would try the last ofthe rulers of Western Europe, the king of France. He followed the king and queen of Spain as they went from place to placefighting the Moors. He hoped that some day, when they wished to think ofsomething besides fighting, they might think of him and the gold andjewels and spices of Cathay. The days grew into months, the months into years, and still the waragainst the Moors kept on; and still Columbus waited for the chance thatdid not come. People grew to know him as "the crazy explorer" as theymet him in the streets or on the church steps of Seville or Cordova, andeven ragged little boys of the town, sharp-eyed and shrill-voiced assuch ragged little urchins are, would run after this big man with thestreaming white hair and the tattered cloak, calling him names ortapping their brown little foreheads with their dirty fingers to showthat even they knew that he was "as crazy as a loon. " At last he decided to make one more attempt before giving it up inSpain. His money was gone; his friends were few; but he remembered hisacquaintances at Palos and so he journeyed back to see once more hisgood friend Friar Juan Perez at the Convent of Rabida on the hill thatlooked out upon the Atlantic he was so anxious to cross. It was in the month of November, 1491, that he went back to the Conventof Rabida. If he could not get any encouragement there, he wasdetermined to stay in Spain no longer but to go away and try the king ofFrance. Once more he talked over the finding of Cathay with the priests and thesailors of Palos. They saw how patient he was; how persistent he was;how he would never give up his ideas until he had tried them. They weremoved by his determination. They began to believe in him more and more. They resolved to help him. One of the principal sea captains of Paloswas named Martin Alonso Pinzon. He became so interested that he offeredto lend Columbus money enough to make one last appeal to the king andqueen of Spain, and if Columbus should succeed with them, this CaptainPinzon said he would go into partnership with Columbus and help him outwhen it came to getting ready to sail to Cathay. This was a move in the right direction. At once a messenger was sent tothe splendid Spanish camp before the city of Granada, the lastunconquered city of the Moors of Spain. The king and queen of Spain hadbeen so long trying to capture Granada that this camp was really a city, with gates and walls and houses. It was called Santa Fé. Queen Isabella, who was in Santa Fé, after some delay, agreed to hear more about thecrazy scheme of this persistent Genoese sailor, and the Friar Juan Perezwas sent for. He talked so well in behalf of his friend Columbus thatthe queen became still more interested. She ordered Columbus to come andsee her, and sent him sixty-five dollars to pay for a mule, a new suitof clothes, and the journey to court. About Christmas time, in the year 1491, Columbus, mounted upon his mule, rode into the Spanish camp before the city of Granada. But even now, when he had been told to come, he had to wait. Granada was almostcaptured; the Moors were almost conquered. At last the end came. On thesecond of January, 1492, the Moorish king gave up the keys of hisbeloved city, and the great Spanish banner was hoisted on the highesttower of the Alhambra--the handsomest building in Granada and one of themost beautiful in the world. The Moors were driven out of Spain andColumbus's chance had come. So he appeared before Queen Isabella and her chief men and told themagain of all his plans and desires. The queen and her advisers sat in agreat room in that splendid Alhambra I have told you of. King Ferdinandwas not there. He did not believe in Columbus and did not wish to lethim have money, ships, or sailors to lose in such a foolish way. But asColumbus stood before her and talked so earnestly about how he expectedto find the Indies and Cathay and what he hoped to bring away fromthere, Queen Isabella listened and thought the plan worth trying. Then a singular thing happened. You would think if you wished forsomething very much that you would be willing to give up a good deal forthe sake of getting it. Columbus had worked and waited for seventeenyears. He had never got what he wanted. He was always beingdisappointed. And yet, as he talked to the queen and told her what hewished to do, he said he must have so much as a reward for doing it thatthe queen and her chief men were simply amazed at his--well, what theboys to-day call "cheek"--that they would have nothing to do with him. This man really is crazy, they said. This poor Genoese sailor comes herewithout a thing except his very odd ideas and almost "wants the earth"as a reward. This is not exactly what they said, but it is what theymeant. His few friends begged him to be more modest. "Do not ask so much, " theysaid, "or you will get nothing. " But Columbus was determined. "I haveworked and waited all these years, " he replied. "I know just what I cando and just how much I can do for the king and queen of Spain. They mustpay me what I ask and promise what I say, or I will go somewhere else. ""Go, then!" said the queen and her advisers. And Columbus turned hisback on what seemed almost his last hope, mounted his mule, and rodeaway. Then something else happened. As Columbus rode off to find the Frenchking, sick and tired of all his long and useless labor at the Spanishcourt, his few firm friends there saw that, unless they did somethingright away, all the glory and all the gain of this enterprise Columbushad taught them to believe in would be lost to Spain. So two of them, whose names were Santangel and Quintanilla, rushed into the queen's roomand begged her, if she wished to become the greatest queen inChristendom, to call back this wandering sailor, agree to his terms, andprofit by his labors. What if he does ask a great deal? they said. He has spent his lifethinking his plan out; no wonder he feels that he ought to have a goodshare of what he finds. What he asks is really small compared with whatSpain will gain. The war with the Moors has cost you ever so much; yourmoney chests are empty; Columbus will fill them up. The people of Cathayare heathen; Columbus will help you make them Christian men. The Indiesand Cathay are full of gold and jewels; Columbus will bring you homeshiploads of treasures. Spain has conquered the Moors; Columbus willhelp you conquer Cathay. In fact, they talked to Queen Isabella so strongly and so earnestly, that she, too, became excited over this chance for glory and riches thatshe had almost lost. "Quick! send for Columbus. Call him back!" saidshe. "I agree to his terms. If King Ferdinand cannot or will not takethe risk, I, the queen, will do it all. Quick! do not let the man getinto France. After him. Bring him back!" And without delay a royal messenger, mounted on a swift horse, was sentat full gallop to bring Columbus back. All this time poor Columbus felt bad enough. Everything had gone wrong. Now he must go away into a new land and do it all over again. Kings andqueens, he felt, were not to be depended upon, and he remembered a placein the Bible where it said: "Put not your trust in princes. " Sad, solitary, and heavy-hearted, he jogged slowly along toward themountains, wondering what the king of France would say to him, andwhether it was really worth trying. Just as he was riding across the little bridge called the Bridge ofPinos, some six miles from Granada, he heard the quick hoof-beats of ahorse behind him. It was a great spot for robbers, and Columbus felt ofthe little money he had in his traveling pouch, and wondered whether hemust lose it all. The hoof-beats came nearer. Then a voice hailed him. "Turn back, turn back!" the messenger cried out. "The queen bids youreturn to Granada. She grants you all you ask. " Columbus hesitated. Ought he to trust this promise, he wondered. Put notyour trust in princes, the verse in the Bible had said. If I go back Imay only be put off and worried as I have been before. And yet, perhapsshe means what she says. At any rate, I will go back and try once more. So, on the little Bridge of Pinos, he turned his mule around and rodeback to Granada. And, sure enough, when he saw Queen Isabella she agreedto all that he asked. If he found Cathay, Columbus was to be madeadmiral for life of all the new seas and oceans into which he mightsail; he was to be chief ruler of all the lands he might find; he was tokeep one tenth part of all the gold and jewels and treasures he shouldbring away, and was to have his "say" in all questions about the newlands. For his part (and this was because of the offer of his friend atPalos, Captain Pinzon) he agreed to pay one eighth of all the expensesof this expedition and of all new enterprises, and was to have oneeighth of all the profits from them. So Columbus had his wish at last. The queen's men figured up how muchmoney they could let him have; they called him "Don ChristopherColumbus, " "Your Excellency, " and "Admiral, " and at once he set aboutgetting ready for his voyage. 416 Most children who read public library books know something about the work of Horace E. Scudder (1838-1902). For eight years he was editor of the _Atlantic Monthly_, but he is more widely known as a writer and compiler of books for children. The entertaining and informing _Bodley Books_ were widely read by a former generation and are still decidedly worth reading. Perhaps his most popular work is _The Children's Book_, a collection of literature suitable for the first four grades. Pupils in the third, fourth, and fifth grades read with pleasure _The Book of Fables_, _The Book of Folk Stories_, _Fables and Folk Stories_, and _The Book of Legends_. Mr. Scudder was the leading advocate of introducing literature into the schools at a time when such advocacy was uphill work, and he edited a great number of literary classics for school use. He wrote a number of historical and biographical works of value. _George Washington_, from which the next selection is taken, is considered by many to be the best biography of Washington that has been written for children. (The chapter below is used by permission of and special arrangement with The Houghton Mifflin Co. , Boston. ) THE BOYHOOD OF WASHINGTON HORACE E. SCUDDER It was near the shore of the Potomac River, between Pope's Creek andBridge's Creek, that Augustine Washington lived when his son George wasborn. The land had been in the family ever since Augustine'sgrandfather, John Washington, had bought it, when he came over fromEngland in 1657. John Washington was a soldier and a public-spiritedman, and so the parish in which he lived--for Virginia was divided intoparishes as some other colonies into townships--was named Washington. It is a quiet neighborhood; not a sign remains of the old house, and theonly mark of the place is a stone slab, broken and overgrown with weedsand brambles, which lies on a bed of bricks taken from the remnants ofthe old chimney of the house. It bears the inscription:-- Here The 11th of February, 1732 (old style) George Washington was born The English had lately agreed to use the calendar of Pope Gregory, whichadded eleven days to the reckoning, but people still used the old styleas well as the new. By the new style, the birthday was February 22, andthat is the day which is now observed. The family into which the childwas born consisted of the father and mother, Augustine and MaryWashington, and two boys, Lawrence and Augustine. These were sons ofAugustine Washington by a former wife who had died four years before. George Washington was the eldest of the children of Augustine and MaryWashington; he had afterward three brothers and two sisters, but one ofthe sisters died in infancy. It was not long after George Washington's birth that the house in whichhe was born was burned, and as his father was at the time especiallyinterested in some iron-works at a distance, it was determined not torebuild upon the lonely place. Accordingly Augustine Washington removedhis family to a place which he owned in Stafford County, on the banks ofthe Rappahannock River opposite Fredericksburg. The house is not nowstanding, but a picture was made of it before it was destroyed. It was, like many Virginia houses of the day, divided into four rooms on afloor, and had great outside chimneys at either end. Here George Washington spent his childhood. He learned to read, write, and cipher at a small school kept by Hobby, the sexton of the parishchurch. Among his playmates was Richard Henry Lee, who was afterward afamous Virginian. When the boys grew up, they wrote to each other ofgrave matters of war and state, but here is the beginning of theircorrespondence, written when they were nine years old:-- "Richard Henry Lee to George Washington: "Pa brought me two pretty books full of pictures he got them in Alexandria they have pictures of dogs and cats and tigers and elefants and ever so many pretty things cousin bids me send you one of them it has a picture of an elefant and a little Indian boy on his back like uncle jo's sam pa says if I learn my tasks good he will let uncle jo bring me to see you will you ask your ma to let you come to see me. "Richard henry Lee. " "George Washington to Richard Henry Lee: "Dear Dickey I thank you very much for the pretty picturebook you gave me. Sam asked me to show him the pictures and I showed him all the pictures in it; and I read to him how the tame elephant took care of the master's little boy, and put him on his back and would not let anybody touch his master's little son. I can read three or four pages sometimes without missing a word. Ma says I may go to see you, and stay all day with you next week if it be not rainy. She says I may ride my pony Hero if Uncle Ben will go with me and lead Hero. I have a little piece of poetry about the picture book you gave me, but I mustn't tell you who wrote the poetry. "G. W. 's compliments to R. H. L. , And likes his book full well, Henceforth will count him his friend, And hopes many happy days he may spend. "Your good friend, "George Washington. "I am going to get a whip top soon, and you may see it and whip it. " It looks very much as if Richard Henry sent his letter off just as itwas written. I suspect that his correspondent's letter was looked over, corrected, and copied before it was sent. Very possibly AugustineWashington was absent at the time on one of his journeys; but at anyrate the boy owed most of his training to his mother, for only two yearsafter this his father died, and he was left to his mother's care. She was a woman born to command, and since she was left alone with afamily and an estate to care for, she took the reins into her own hands, and never gave them up to any one else. She used to drive about in anold-fashioned open chaise, visiting the various parts of her farm, justas a planter would do on horseback. The story is told that she had givenan agent directions how to do a piece of work, and he had seen fit to doit differently, because he thought his way a better one. He showed herthe improvement. "And pray, " said the lady, "who gave you any exercise of judgment in thematter? I command you, sir; there is nothing left for you but to obey. " In those days, more than now, a boy used very formal language whenaddressing his mother. He might love her warmly, but he was expected totreat her with a great show of respect. When Washington wrote to hismother, even after he was of age, he began his letter, "Honored Madam, "and signed it, "Your dutiful son. " This was a part of the manners of thetime. It was like the stiff dress which men wore when they paid theirrespects to others; it was put on for the occasion, and one would havebeen thought very unmannerly who did not make a marked differencebetween his every-day dress and that which he wore when he went into thepresence of his betters. So Washington, when he wrote to his mother, would not be so rude as to say, "Dear Mother. " Such habits as this go deeper than mere forms of speech. I do notsuppose that the sons of this lady feared her, but they stood in awe ofher, which is quite a different thing. "We were all as mute as mice, when in her presence, " says one ofWashington's companions; and common report makes her to have been verymuch such a woman as her son afterward was a man. I think that George Washington owed two strong traits to his mother--agoverning spirit and a spirit of order and method. She taught him manylessons and gave him many rules; but, after all, it was her charactershaping his which was most powerful. She taught him to be truthful, buther lessons were not half so forcible as her own truthfulness. There is a story told of George Washington's boyhood--unfortunatelythere are not many stories--which is to the point. His father had takena great deal of pride in his blooded horses, and his mother afterwardtook pains to keep the stock pure. She had several young horses that hadnot yet been broken, and one of them in particular, a sorrel, wasextremely spirited. No one had been able to do anything with it, and itwas pronounced thoroughly vicious, as people are apt to pronounce horseswhich they have not learned to master. George was determined to ridethis colt, and told his companions that if they would help him catch it, he would ride and tame it. Early in the morning they set out for the pasture, where the boysmanaged to surround the sorrel and then to put a bit into its mouth. Washington sprang upon its back, the boys dropped the bridle, and awayflew the angry animal. Its rider at once began to command; the horseresisted, backing about the field, rearing and plunging. The boys becamethoroughly alarmed, but Washington kept his seat, never once losing hisself-control or his mastery of the colt. The struggle was a sharp one;when suddenly, as if determined to rid itself of its rider, the creatureleaped into the air with a tremendous bound. It was its last. Theviolence burst a blood-vessel, and the noble horse fell dead. Before the boys could sufficiently recover to consider how they shouldextricate themselves from the scrape, they were called to breakfast; andthe mistress of the house, knowing that they had been in the fields, began to ask after her stock. "Pray, young gentlemen, " said she, "have you seen my blooded colts inyour rambles? I hope they are well taken care of. My favorite, I amtold, is as large as his sire. " The boys looked at one another, and no one liked to speak. Of course themother repeated her question. "The sorrel is dead, madam, " said her son. "I killed him!" And then he told the whole story. They say that his mother flushed withanger, as her son often used to, and then, like him, controlled herself, and presently said, quietly:-- "It is well; but while I regret the loss of my favorite, I rejoice in myson who always speaks the truth. " The story of Washington's killing the blooded colt is of a piece withother stories less particular, which show that he was a very athleticfellow. Of course, when a boy becomes famous, every one likes toremember the wonderful things he did before he was famous; andWashington's playmates, when they grew up, used to show the spot by theRappahannock, near Fredericksburg, where he stood and threw a stone tothe opposite bank; and at the celebrated Natural Bridge, the arch ofwhich is two hundred feet above the ground, they always tell the visitorthat George Washington threw a stone in the air the whole height. Heundoubtedly took part in all the sports which were the favorites of hiscountry at that time--he pitched heavy bars, tossed quoits, ran, leaped, and wrestled; for he was a powerful, large-limbed young fellow, and hehad a very large and strong hand. 417 The _Autobiography_ by Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790) has become a classic in American literature. Its simple style, practical doctrine of industry and economy, and pleasing revelation of the character of one of America's greatest statesmen make it appropriate for use in the seventh and eighth grades. (See also note to No. 250. ) THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF BENJAMIN FRANKLIN At ten years old I was taken home to assist my father in his business, which was that of a tallow-chandler and soap-boiler, a business he wasnot bred to, but had assumed on his arrival in New England, and onfinding his dyeing trade would not maintain his family, being in littlerequest. Accordingly, I was employed in cutting wick for the candles, filling the dipping mold and the molds for cast candles, attending theshop, going of errands, etc. I continued thus employed in my father's business for two years, thatis, till I was twelve years old; and my brother John, who was bred tothat business, having left my father, married, and set up for himself atRhode Island, there was all appearance that I was destined to supply hisplace, and become a tallow-chandler. But my dislike to the tradecontinuing, my father was under apprehensions that if he did not findone for me more agreeable, I should break away and get to sea, as hisson Josiah had done, to his great vexation. He therefore sometimes tookme to walk with him, and see joiners, bricklayers, turners, braziers, etc. , at their work, that he might observe my inclination, and endeavorto fix it on some trade or other on land. It has ever since been apleasure to me to see good workmen handle their tools; and it has beenuseful to me, having learned so much by it as to be able to do littlejobs myself in my house when a workman could not readily be got, and toconstruct little machines for my experiments, while the intention ofmaking the experiment was fresh and warm in my mind. My father at lastfixed upon the cutler's trade, and my uncle Benjamin's son Samuel, whowas bred to that business in London, being about that time establishedin Boston, I was sent to be with him some time on liking. But hisexpectations of a fee with me displeasing my father, I was taken homeagain. From a child I was fond of reading, and all the little money that cameinto my hands was ever laid out in books. Pleased with the _Pilgrim'sProgress_, my first collection was of John Bunyan's works in separatelittle volumes. I afterward sold them to enable me to buy R. Burton's_Historical Collections_. They were small chapmen's books, and cheap, 40or 50 in all. My father's little library consisted chiefly of books inpolemic divinity, most of which I read, and have since often regrettedthat, at a time when I had such a thirst for knowledge, more properbooks had not fallen in my way, since it was now resolved I should notbe a clergyman. Plutarch's _Lives_ there was in which I read abundantly, and I still think that time spent to great advantage. There was also abook of De Foe's, called an _Essay on Projects_, and another of Dr. Mather's, called _Essays to do Good_, which perhaps gave me a turn ofthinking that had an influence on some of the principal future events ofmy life. This bookish inclination at length determined my father to make me aprinter, though he had already one son (James) of that profession. In1717 my brother James returned from England with a press and letters toset up his business in Boston. I liked it much better than that of myfather, but still had a hankering for the sea. To prevent theapprehended effect of such an inclination, my father was impatient tohave me bound to my brother. I stood out some time, but at last waspersuaded, and signed the indentures when I was yet but twelve yearsold. I was to serve as an apprentice till I was twenty-one years of age, only I was to be allowed journeyman's wages during the last year. In alittle time I made great proficiency in the business, and became auseful hand to my brother. I now had access to better books. Anacquaintance with the apprentices of booksellers enabled me sometimes toborrow a small one, which I was careful to return soon and clean. OftenI sat up in my room reading the greatest part of the night, when thebook was borrowed in the evening and to be returned early in themorning, lest it should be missed or wanted. And after some time an ingenious tradesman, Mr. Matthew Adams, who had apretty collection of books, and who frequented our printing-house, tooknotice of me, invited me to his library, and very kindly lent me suchbooks as I chose to read. I now took a fancy to poetry, and made somelittle pieces; my brother, thinking it might turn to account, encouragedme, and put me on composing occasional ballads. One was called _TheLighthouse Tragedy_, and contained an account of the drowning of CaptainWorthilake, with his two daughters: the other was a sailor's song, onthe taking of _Teach_ (or Blackbeard) the pirate. They were wretchedstuff, in the Grub-street-ballad style; and when they were printed hesent me about the town to sell them. The first sold wonderfully, theevent being recent, having made a great noise. This flattered my vanity;but my father discouraged me by ridiculing my performances, and tellingme verse-makers were generally beggars. So I escaped being a poet, mostprobably a very bad one; but as prose writing has been of great use tome in the course of my life, and was a principal means of myadvancement, I shall tell you how, in such a situation, I acquired whatlittle ability I have in that way. There was another bookish lad in the town, John Collins by name, withwhom I was intimately acquainted. We sometimes disputed, and very fondwe were of argument, and very desirous of confuting one another, whichdisputatious turn, by the way, is apt to become a very bad habit, makingpeople often extremely disagreeable in company by the contradiction thatis necessary to bring it into practice; and thence, besides souring andspoiling the conversation, is productive of disgusts and, perhaps, enmities where you may have occasion for friendship. I had caught it byreading my father's books of dispute about religion. Persons of goodsense, I have since observed, seldom fall into it, except lawyers, university men, and men of all sorts that have been bred at Edinburgh. A question was once, somehow or other, started between Collins and me, of the propriety of educating the female sex in learning, and theirabilities for study. He was of opinion that it was improper, and thatthey were naturally unequal to it. I took the contrary side, perhaps alittle for dispute's sake. He was naturally more eloquent, had a readyplenty of words; and sometimes, as I thought, bore me down more by hisfluency than by the strength of his reasons. As we parted withoutsettling the point, and were not to see one another again for some time, I sat down to put my arguments in writing, which I copied fair and sentto him. He answered, and I replied. Three or four letters of a side hadpassed, when my father happened to find my papers and read them. Withoutentering into the discussion, he took occasion to talk to me about themanner of my writing; observed that, though I had the advantage of myantagonist in correct spelling and pointing (which I owed to theprinting-house), I fell far short in elegance of expression, in methodand in perspicuity, of which he convinced me by several instances. I sawthe justice of his remarks, and thence grew more attentive to the mannerin writing, and determined to endeavor at improvement. About this time I met with an odd volume of the _Spectator_. It was thethird. I had never before seen any of them. I bought it, read it overand over, and was much delighted with it. I thought the writingexcellent, and wished, if possible, to imitate it. With this view I tooksome of the papers, and, making short hints of the sentiment in eachsentence, laid them by a few days, and then, without looking at thebook, tried to complete the papers again, by expressing each hintedsentiment at length, and as fully as it had been expressed before, inany suitable words that should come to hand. Then I compared my_Spectator_ with the original, discovered some of my faults, andcorrected them. But I found I wanted a stock of words, or a readiness inrecollecting and using them, which I thought I should have acquiredbefore that time if I had gone on making verses; since the continualoccasion for words of the same import, but of different length, to suitthe measure, or of different sound for the rhyme, would have laid meunder a constant necessity of searching for variety, and also havetended to fix that variety in my mind, and make me master of it. Therefore I took some of the tales and turned them into verse; and, after a time, when I had pretty well forgotten the prose, turned themback again. I also sometimes jumbled my collections of hints intoconfusion, and after some weeks endeavored to reduce them into the bestorder, before I began to form the full sentences and complete the paper. This was to teach me method in the arrangement of thoughts. By comparingmy work afterwards with the original, I discovered many faults andamended them; but I sometimes had the pleasure of fancying that, incertain particulars of small import, I had been lucky enough to improvethe method or the language, and this encouraged me to think I mightpossibly in time come to be a tolerable English writer, of which I wasextremely ambitious. My time for these exercises and for reading was atnight, after work or before it began in the morning, or on Sundays, whenI contrived to be in the printing-house alone, avoiding as much as Icould the common attendance on public worship which my father used toexact of me when I was under his care, and which indeed I still thoughta duty, though I could not, as it seemed to me, afford time to practiceit. When about 16 years of age I happened to meet with a book, written byone Tryon, recommending a vegetable diet. I determined to go into it. My brother, being yet unmarried, did not keep house, but boarded himselfand his apprentices in another family. My refusing to eat fleshoccasioned an inconveniency, and I was frequently chid for mysingularity. I made myself acquainted with Tryon's manner of preparingsome of his dishes, such as boiling potatoes or rice, making hastypudding, and a few others, and then proposed to my brother, that if hewould give me, weekly, half the money he paid for my board, I wouldboard myself. He instantly agreed to it, and I presently found that Icould save half what he paid me. This was an additional fund for buyingbooks. But I had another advantage in it. My brother and the rest goingfrom the printing-house to their meals, I remained there alone, and, dispatching presently my light repast, which often was no more than abiscuit or a slice of bread, a handful of raisins or a tart from thepastry-cook's, and a glass of water, had the rest of the time till theirreturn for study, in which I made the greater progress, from thatgreater clearness of head and quicker apprehension which usually attendtemperance in eating and drinking. And now it was that, being on some occasion made ashamed of my ignorancein figures, which I had twice failed in learning when at school, I tookCocker's book of arithmetic, and went through the whole by myself withgreat ease. I also read Seller's and Shermy's books of navigation, andbecame acquainted with the little geometry they contain; but neverproceeded far in that science. And I read about this time Locke _OnHuman Understanding_, and the _Art of Thinking_, by Messrs. Du PortRoyal. While I was intent on improving my language, I met with an Englishgrammar (I think it was Greenwood's), at the end of which there were twolittle sketches of the arts of rhetoric and logic, the latter finishingwith a specimen of a dispute in the Socratic method; and soon after Iprocured Xenophon's _Memorable Things of Socrates_, wherein there aremany instances of the same method. I was charmed with it, adopted it, dropped my abrupt contradiction and positive argumentation, and put onthe humble inquirer and doubter. And being then, from readingShaftesbury and Collins, become a real doubter in many points of ourreligious doctrine, I found this method safest for myself and veryembarrassing to those against whom I used it; therefore I took a delightin it, practiced it continually, and grew very artful and expert indrawing people, even of superior knowledge, into concessions, theconsequences of which they did not foresee, entangling them indifficulties out of which they could not extricate themselves, and soobtaining victories that neither myself nor my cause always deserved. Icontinued this method some few years, but gradually left it, retainingonly the habit of expressing myself in terms of modest diffidence; neverusing, when I advanced any thing that may possibly be disputed, thewords _certainly_, _undoubtedly_, or any others that give the air ofpositiveness to an opinion; but rather say, I conceive or apprehend athing to be so and so; it appears to me, or _I should think it so orso_, for such and such reasons; or _I imagine it to be so_; or _it isso, if I am not mistaken_. This habit, I believe, has been of greatadvantage to me when I have had occasion to inculcate my opinion, andpersuade men into measures that I have been from time to time engagedin promoting; and, as the chief ends of conversation are to _inform_ orto be _informed_, to _please_ or to _persuade_, I wish well-meaning, sensible men would not lessen their power of doing good by a positive, assuming manner, that seldom fails to disgust, tends to createopposition, and to defeat every one of those purposes for which speechwas given to us, to wit, giving or receiving information or pleasure. For, if you would inform, a positive and dogmatical manner in advancingyour sentiments may provoke contradiction and prevent a candidattention. If you wish information and improvement from the knowledge ofothers, and yet at the same time express yourself as firmly fixed inyour present opinions, modest, sensible men, who do not lovedisputation, will probably leave you undisturbed in the possession ofyour error. And by such a manner, you can seldom hope to recommendyourself in _pleasing_ your hearers, or to persuade those whoseconcurrence you desire. Pope says, judiciously: "Men should be taught as if you taught them not, And things unknown propos'd as things forgot"; farther recommending to us "To speak, tho' sure, with seeming diffidence. " And he might have coupled with this line that which he has coupled withanother, I think, less properly: "For want of modesty is want of sense. " If you ask, Why less properly? I must repeat the lines: "Immodest words admit of no defense, For want of modesty is want of sense. " Now, is not _want of sense_ (where a man is so unfortunate as to wantit) some apology for his _want of modesty_? and would not the linesstand more justly thus? "Immodest words admit _but_ this defense, That want of modesty is want of sense. " This, however, I should submit to better judgments. My brother had, in 1720 or 1721, begun to print a newspaper. It was thesecond that appeared in America, and was called the _New EnglandCourant_. The only one before it was the _Boston News-Letter_. Iremember his being dissuaded by some of his friends from theundertaking, as not likely to succeed, one newspaper being, in theirjudgment, enough for America. At this time (1771) there are not lessthan five-and-twenty. He went on, however, with the undertaking, andafter having worked in composing the types and printing off the sheets, I was employed to carry the papers through the streets to the customers. He had some ingenious men among his friends, who amused themselves bywriting little pieces for this paper, which gained it credit and made itmore in demand, and these gentlemen often visited us. Hearing theirconversations, and their accounts of the approbation their papers werereceived with, I was excited to try my hand among them; but, being stilla boy, and suspecting that my brother would object to printing any thingof mine in his paper if he knew it to be mine, I contrived to disguisemy hand, and, writing an anonymous paper, I put it in at night under thedoor of the printing-house. It was found in the morning, andcommunicated to his writing friends when they called in as usual. Theyread it, commented on it in my hearing, and I had the exquisite pleasureof finding it met with their approbation, and that, in their differentguesses at the author, none were named but men of some character amongus for learning and ingenuity. I suppose now that I was rather lucky inmy judges and that perhaps they were not really so very good ones as Ithen esteemed them. * * * * * I then thought of going to New York, as the nearest place where therewas a printer; and I was rather inclined to leave Boston when Ireflected that I had already made myself a little obnoxious to thegoverning party, and, from the arbitrary proceedings of the Assembly inmy brother's case, it was likely I might, if I stayed, soon bring myselfinto scrapes; and farther, that my indiscrete disputations aboutreligion began to make me pointed at with horror by good people as aninfidel or atheist. I determined on the point, but my father now sidingwith my brother, I was sensible that, if I attempted to go openly, meanswould be used to prevent me. My friend Collins, therefore, undertook tomanage a little for me. He agreed with the captain of a New York sloopfor my passage, under the notion of my being a young acquaintance ofhis, that had got into trouble, and therefore could not appear or comeaway publicly. So I sold some of my books to raise a little money, wastaken on board privately, and as we had a fair wind, in three days Ifound myself in New York, near 300 miles from home, a boy of but 17, without the least recommendation to, or knowledge of any person in theplace, and with very little money in my pocket. My inclinations for the sea were by this time worn out, or I might nowhave gratified them. But, having a trade, and supposing myself a prettygood workman, I offered my service to the printer in the place, old Mr. William Bradford, who had been the first printer in Pennsylvania, butremoved from thence upon the quarrel of George Keith. He could give meno employment, having little to do, and help enough already; but sayshe, "My son at Philadelphia has lately lost his principal hand, AquilaRose, by death; if you go thither, I believe he may employ you. "Philadelphia was a hundred miles further; I set out, however, in a boatfor Amboy, leaving my chest and things to follow me round by sea. In crossing the bay, we met with a squall that tore our rotten sails topieces, prevented our getting into the Kill, and drove us upon LongIsland. On our way, a drunken Dutchman, who was a passenger too, felloverboard; when he was sinking, I reached through the water to his shockpate, and drew him up, so that we got him in again. His ducking soberedhim a little, and he went to sleep, taking first out of his pocket abook, which he desired I would dry for him. It proved to be my oldfavorite author, Bunyan's _Pilgrim's Progress_, in Dutch, finely printedon good paper, with copper cuts, a dress better than I had ever seen itwear in its own language. I have since found that it has been translatedinto most of the languages of Europe, and suppose it has been moregenerally read than any other book, except perhaps the Bible. HonestJohn was the first that I know of who mixed narration and dialogue; amethod of writing very engaging to the reader, who in the mostinteresting parts finds himself, as it were, brought into the companyand present at the discourse. De Foe in his _Crusoe_, his _MollFlanders_, _Religious Courtship_, _Family Instructor_, and other pieces, has imitated it with success; and Richardson has done the same in his_Pamela_, etc. When we drew near the island, we found it was at a place where therecould be no landing, there being a great surf on the stony beach. So wedropped anchor, and swung around towards the shore. Some people camedown to the water edge and hallooed to us, as we did to them; but thewind was so high, and the surf so loud, that we could not hear so as tounderstand each other. There were canoes on the shore, and we madesigns, and hallooed that they should fetch us; but they either did notunderstand us, or thought it impracticable, so they went away, and nightcoming on, we had no remedy but to wait till the wind should abate; and, in the meantime, the boatman and I concluded to sleep, if we could; andso crowded into the scuttle, with the Dutchman, who was still wet, andthe spray beating over the head of our boat, leaked through to us, sothat we were soon almost as wet as he. In this manner we lay all night, with very little rest; but, the wind abating the next day, we made ashift to reach Amboy before night, having been thirty hours on thewater, without victuals, or any drink but a bottle of filthy rum, thewater we sailed on being salt. In the evening I found myself very feverish, and went in to bed; but, having read somewhere that cold water drunk plentifully was good for afever, I followed the prescription, sweat plentifully most of the night, my fever left me, and in the morning, crossing the ferry, I proceeded onmy journey on foot, having fifty miles to Burlington, where I was told Ishould find boats that would carry me the rest of the way toPhiladelphia. It rained very hard all the day; I was thoroughly soaked, and by noon agood deal tired; so I stopped at a poor inn, where I stayed all night, beginning now to wish that I had never left home. I cut so miserable afigure, too, that I found, by the questions asked me, I was suspected tobe some runaway servant, and in danger of being taken up on thatsuspicion. However, I proceeded the next day, and got in the evening toan inn, within eight or ten miles of Burlington, kept by one Dr. Brown. He entered into conversation with me while I took some refreshment, and, finding I had read a little, became very sociable and friendly. Ouracquaintance continued as long as he lived. He had been, I imagine, anitinerant doctor, for there was no town in England, or country inEurope, of which he could not give a very particular account. He hadsome letters, and was ingenious, but much of an unbeliever, and wickedlyundertook, some years after, to travesty the Bible in doggerel verse, asCotton had done Virgil. By this means he set many of the facts in a veryridiculous light, and might have hurt weak minds if his work had beenpublished; but it never was. At his house I lay that night, and the next morning reached Burlington, but had the mortification to find that the regular boats were gone alittle before my coming, and no other expected to go before Tuesday, this being Saturday; wherefore I returned to an old woman in the town, of whom I had bought gingerbread to eat on the water, and asked heradvice. She invited me to lodge at her house till a passage by watershould offer; and being tired with my foot traveling, I accepted theinvitation. She understanding I was a printer, would have had me stay atthat town and follow my business, being ignorant of the stock necessaryto begin with. She was very hospitable, gave me a dinner of ox-cheekwith great good will, accepting only of a pot of ale in return; and Ithought myself fixed till Tuesday should come. However, walking in theevening by the side of the river, a boat came by, which I found wasgoing towards Philadelphia, with several people in her. They took me in, and, as there was no wind, we rowed all the way; and about midnight, nothaving yet seen the city, some of the company were confident we musthave passed it, and would row no farther; the others knew not where wewere; so we put toward the shore, got into a creek, landed near an oldfence, with the rails of which we made a fire, the night being cold, inOctober, and there we remained till daylight. Then one of the companyknew the place to be Cooper's Creek, a little above Philadelphia, whichwe saw as soon as we got out of the creek, and arrived there about eightor nine o'clock on the Sunday morning, and landed at the Market Streetwharf. I have been the more particular in this description of my journey, andshall be so of my first entry into that city, that you may in your mindcompare such unlikely beginnings with the figure I have since madethere. I was in my working dress, my best clothes being to come round bysea. I was dirty from my journey; my pockets were stuffed out withshirts and stockings, and I knew no soul nor where to look for lodging. I was fatigued with traveling, rowing, and want of rest; I was veryhungry; and my whole stock of cash consisted of a Dutch dollar and abouta shilling in copper. The latter I gave the people of the boat for mypassage, who at first refused it, on account of my rowing; but Iinsisted on their taking it. A man being sometimes more generous when hehas but a little money than when he has plenty, perhaps through fear ofbeing thought to have but little. Then I walked up the street, gazing about till near the market-house Imet a boy with bread. I had made many a meal on bread, and, inquiringwhere he got it, I went immediately to the baker's he directed me to, inSecond Street, and asked for biscuit, intending such as we had inBoston; but they, it seems, were not made in Philadelphia. Then I askedfor a three-penny loaf, and was told they had none such. So notconsidering or knowing the difference of money, and the greatercheapness nor the names of his bread, I bade him give me three-pennyworth of any sort. He gave me, accordingly, three great puffy rolls. Iwas surprised at the quantity, but took it, and, having no room in mypockets, walked off with a roll under each arm, and eating the other. Thus I went up Market Street as far as Fourth Street, passing by thedoor of Mr. Read, my future wife's father; when she, standing at thedoor, saw me, and thought I made, as I certainly did, a most awkward, ridiculous appearance. Then I turned and went down Chestnut Street andpart of Walnut Street, eating my roll all the way, and, coming round, found myself again at Market Street wharf, near the boat I came in, towhich I went for a draught of the river water; and, being filled withone of my rolls, gave the other two to a woman and her child that camedown the river in the boat with us, and were waiting to go farther. Thus refreshed, I walked again up the street, which by this time hadmany clean-dressed people in it, who were all walking the same way. Ijoined them, and thereby was led into the great meeting-house of theQuakers near the market. I sat down among them, and, after looking roundawhile and hearing nothing said, being very drowsy through labor andwant of rest the preceding night, I fell fast asleep, and continued sotill the meeting broke up, when one was kind enough to rouse me. Thiswas, therefore, the first house I was in, or slept in, in Philadelphia. Walking down again toward the river, and, looking in the faces ofpeople, I met a young Quaker man, whose countenance I liked, and, accosting him, requested he would tell me where a stranger could getlodging. We were then near the sign of the Three Mariners. "Here, " sayshe, "is one place that entertains strangers, but it is not a reputablehouse; if thee wilt walk with me I'll show thee a better. " He brought meto the Crooked Billet, in Water Street. Here I got a dinner; and, whileI was eating it, several sly questions were asked me, as it seemed to besuspected from my youth and appearance that I might be some runaway. After dinner my sleepiness returned, and being shown to a bed, I laydown without undressing, and slept till six in the evening, was calledto supper, went to bed again very early, and slept soundly till nextmorning. Then I made myself as tidy as I could, and went to AndrewBradford the printer's. I found in the shop the old man his father, whomI had seen at New York, and who, traveling on horseback, had got toPhiladelphia before me. He introduced me to his son, who received mecivilly, gave me a breakfast, but told me he did not at present want ahand, being lately supplied with one; but there was another printer intown, lately set up, one Keimer, who, perhaps, might employ me; if not, I should be welcome to lodge at his house, and he would give me a littlework to do now and then till fuller business should offer. The old gentleman said he would go with me to the new printer; and whenwe found him, "Neighbor, " says Bradford, "I have brought to see you ayoung man of your business; perhaps you may want such a one. " He askedme a few questions, put a composing stick in my hand to see how Iworked, and then said he would employ me soon, though he had just thennothing for me to do; and, taking old Bradford, whom he had never seenbefore, to be one of the townspeople that had a good will for him, entered into a conversation on his present undertaking and prospects;while Bradford, not discovering that he was the other printer's father, on Keimer's saying he expected soon to get the greatest part of thebusiness into his own hands, drew him on by artful questions, andstarting little doubts, to explain all his views, what interest herelied on, and in what manner he intended to proceed. I, who stood byand heard all, saw immediately that one of them was a crafty oldsophister, and the other a mere novice. Bradford left me with Keimer, who was greatly surprised when I told him who the old man was. Keimer's printing-house, I found, consisted of an old shattered pressand one small, worn-out font of English, which he was then usinghimself, composing an Elegy on Aquila Rose, before mentioned, aningenious young man, of excellent character, much respected in the town, clerk of the Assembly, and a pretty poet. Keimer made verses too, butvery indifferently. He could not be said to write them, for his mannerwas to compose them in the types directly out of his head. So therebeing no copy, but one pair of cases, and the Elegy likely to requireall the letters, no one could help him. I endeavored to put his press(which he had not yet used and of which he understood nothing) intoorder fit to be worked with; and, promising to come and print off hisElegy as soon as he should have got it ready, I returned to Bradford's, who gave me a little job to do for the present, and there I lodged anddieted. A few days after, Keimer sent for me to print off the Elegy. Andnow he had got another pair of cases, and a pamphlet to reprint, onwhich he set me to work. These two printers I found poorly qualified for their business. Bradfordhad not been bred to it, and was very illiterate; and Keimer, thoughsomething of a scholar, was a mere compositor, knowing nothing ofpresswork. He had been one of the French prophets, and could act theirenthusiastic agitations. At this time he did not profess any particularreligion, but something of all on occasion; was very ignorant of theworld, and had, as I afterward found, a good deal of the knave in hiscomposition. He did not like my lodging at Bradford's while I workedwith him. He had a house, indeed, but without furniture, so he could notlodge me; but he got me a lodging at Mr. Read's, before mentioned, whowas the owner of his house; and, my chest and clothes being come by thistime, I made rather a more respectable appearance in the eyes of MissRead than I had done when she first happened to see me eating my roll inthe street. 418 Of the numerous biographies of Abraham Lincoln, none seems better suited for use in the grades than _The Boy's Life of Abraham Lincoln_, by Helen Nicolay (1866--), from which the next selection was taken. John George Nicolay, father of Helen Nicolay, was private secretary to Abraham Lincoln from 1860 to 1865, and later he wrote an excellent biography of Lincoln. (The following selection is used by permission of the Century Company, New York. ) LINCOLN'S EARLY DAYS HELEN NICOLAY The story of this wonderful man begins and ends with a tragedy, for hisgrandfather, also named Abraham, was killed by a shot from an Indian'srifle while peaceably at work with his three sons on the edge of theirfrontier clearing. Eighty-one years later the President himself metdeath by an assassin's bullet. The murderer of one was a savage of theforest; the murderer of the other that far more cruel thing, a savage ofcivilization. When the Indian's shot laid the pioneer farmer low, his second son, Josiah, ran to a neighboring fort for help, and Mordecai, the eldest, hurried to the cabin for his rifle. Thomas, a child of six years, wasleft alone beside the dead body of his father; and as Mordecai snatchedthe gun from its resting-place over the door of the cabin, he saw, tohis horror, an Indian in his war-paint, just stooping to seize thechild. Taking quick aim at a medal on the breast of the savage, hefired, and the Indian fell dead. The little boy, thus released, ran tothe house, where Mordecai, firing through the loopholes, kept theIndians at bay until help arrived from the fort. It was this child Thomas who grew up to be the father of PresidentAbraham Lincoln. After the murder of his father the fortunes of thelittle family grew rapidly worse, and doubtless because of poverty, aswell as by reason of the marriage of his older brothers and sisters, their home was broken up, and Thomas found himself, long before he wasgrown, a wandering laboring boy. He lived for a time with an uncle ashis hired servant, and later he learned the trade of carpenter. He grewto manhood entirely without education, and when he was twenty-eightyears old could neither read nor write. At that time he married NancyHanks, a good-looking young woman of twenty-three, as poor as himself, but so much better off as to learning that she was able to teach herhusband to sign his own name. Neither of them had any money, but livingcost little on the frontier in those days, and they felt that his tradewould suffice to earn all that they should need. Thomas took his brideto a tiny house in Elizabethtown, Kentucky, where they lived for about ayear, and where a daughter was born to them. Then they moved to a small farm thirteen miles from Elizabethtown, whichthey bought on credit, the country being yet so new that there wereplaces to be had for mere promises to pay. Farms obtained on such termswere usually of very poor quality, and this one of Thomas Lincoln's wasno exception to the rule. A cabin ready to be occupied stood on it, however; and not far away, hidden in a pretty clump of trees and bushes, was a fine spring of water, because of which the place was known as RockSpring Farm. In the cabin on this farm the future President of theUnited States was born on February 12, 1809, and here the first fouryears of his life were spent. Then the Lincolns moved to a much biggerand better farm on Knob Creek, six miles from Hodgensville, which ThomasLincoln bought, again on credit, selling the larger part of it soonafterward to another purchaser. Here they remained until Abraham wasseven years old. About this early part of his childhood almost nothing is known. He nevertalked of these days, even to his most intimate friends. To the pioneerchild a farm offered much that a town lot could not give him--space;woods to roam in; Knob Creek with its running water and its deep, quietpools for a playfellow; berries to be hunted for in summer and nuts inautumn; while all the year round birds and small animals pattered acrosshis path to people the solitude in place of human companions. The boyhad few comrades. He wandered about playing his lonesome little games, and, when these were finished, returned to the small and cheerlesscabin. Once, when asked what he remembered about the War of 1812 withGreat Britain, he replied: "Only this: I had been fishing one day andhad caught a little fish, which I was taking home. I met a soldier inthe road, and having always been told at home that we must be good tosoldiers, I gave him my fish. " It is only a glimpse into his life, butit shows the solitary, generous child, and the patriotic household. It was while living on this farm that Abraham and his sister Sarah firstbegan going to A-B-C schools. Their earliest teacher was ZachariahRiney, who taught near the Lincoln cabin; the next was Caleb Hazel, fourmiles away. In spite of the tragedy that darkened his childhood, Thomas Lincolnseems to have been a cheery, indolent, good-natured man. By means of alittle farming and occasional jobs at his trade, he managed to supplyhis family with the absolutely necessary food and shelter, but he nevergot on in the world. He found it much easier to gossip with his friends, or to dream about rich new lands in the West, than to make a thriftyliving in the place where he happened to be. The blood of the pioneerwas in his veins too--the desire to move westward; and hearing glowingaccounts of the new territory of Indiana, he resolved to go and see itfor himself. His skill as a carpenter made this not only possible butreasonably cheap, and in the fall of 1816 he built himself a littleflatboat, launched it half a mile from his cabin, at the mouth of KnobCreek on the waters of the Rolling Fork, and floated on it down thatstream to Salt River, down Salt River to the Ohio, and down the Ohio toa landing called Thompson's Ferry on the Indiana shore. Sixteen miles out from the river, near a small stream known as PigeonCreek, he found a spot in the forest that suited him; and as his boatcould not be made to float upstream, he sold it, stored his goods withan obliging settler, and trudged back to Kentucky, all the way on foot, to fetch his wife and children--Sarah, who was now nine years old, andAbraham, seven. This time the journey to Indiana was made with twohorses, used by the mother and children for riding, and to carry theirlittle camping outfit for the night. The distance from their old homewas, in a straight line, little more than fifty miles, but they had togo double that distance because of the very few roads it was possible tofollow. Reaching the Ohio River and crossing to the Indiana shore, ThomasLincoln hired a wagon which carried his family and their belongings theremaining sixteen miles through the forest to the spot he had chosen--apiece of heavily wooded land, one and a half miles east of what hassince become the village of Gentryville in Spencer County. The latenessof the autumn made it necessary to put up a shelter as quickly aspossible, and he built what was known on the frontier as a half-facedcamp, about fourteen feet square. This differed from a cabin in that itwas closed on only three sides, being quite open to the weather on thefourth. A fire was usually made in front of the open side, and thus thenecessity for having a chimney was done away with. Thomas Lincolndoubtless intended this only for a temporary shelter, and as such itwould have done well enough in pleasant summer weather; but it was arude provision against the storms and winds of an Indiana winter. Itshows his want of energy that the family remained housed in this poorcamp for nearly a whole year; but, after all, he must not be too hastilyblamed. He was far from idle. A cabin was doubtless begun, and therewas the very heavy work of clearing away the timber--cutting down largetrees, chopping them into suitable lengths, and rolling them togetherinto great heaps to be burned, or of splitting them into rails to fencethe small field upon which he managed to raise a patch of corn and otherthings during the following summer. Though only seven years old, Abraham was unusually large and strong forhis age, and he helped his father in all this heavy labor of clearingthe farm. In after years, Mr. Lincoln said that an ax "was put into hishands at once, and from that till within his twenty-third year he wasalmost constantly handling that most useful instrument--less, of course, in ploughing and harvesting seasons. " At first the Lincolns and theirseven or eight neighbors lived in the unbroken forest. They had only thetools and household goods they brought with them, or such things as theycould fashion with their own hands. There was no sawmill to saw lumber. The village of Gentryville was not even begun. Breadstuff could be hadonly by sending young Abraham seven miles on horseback with a bag ofcorn to be ground in a hand grist-mill. About the time the new cabin was ready relatives and friends followedfrom Kentucky, and some of these in turn occupied the half-faced camp. During the autumn a severe and mysterious sickness broke out in theirlittle settlement, and a number of people died, among them the mother ofyoung Abraham. There was no help to be had beyond what the neighborscould give each other. The nearest doctor lived fully thirty miles away. There was not even a minister to conduct the funerals. Thomas Lincolnmade the coffins for the dead out of green lumber cut from the foresttrees with a whip-saw, and they were laid to rest in a clearing in thewoods. Months afterward, largely through the efforts of the sorrowingboy, a preacher who chanced to come that way was induced to hold aservice and preach a sermon over the grave of Mrs. Lincoln. Her death was indeed a serious blow to her husband and children. Abraham's sister, Sarah, was only eleven years old, and the tasks andcares of the little household were altogether too heavy for her yearsand experience. Nevertheless they struggled bravely through the winterand following summer; then in the autumn of 1819 Thomas Lincoln wentback to Kentucky and married Sarah Bush Johnston, whom he had known, andit is said courted, when she was only Sally Bush. She had married aboutthe time Lincoln married Nancy Hanks, and her husband had died, leavingher with three children. She came of a better station in life thanThomas, and was a woman with an excellent mind as well as a warm andgenerous heart. The household goods that she brought with her to theLincoln home filled a four-horse wagon, and not only were her ownchildren well clothed and cared for, but she was able at once to providelittle Abraham and Sarah with comforts to which they had been strangersduring the whole of their young lives. Under her wise management alljealousy was avoided between the two sets of children; urged on by herstirring example, Thomas Lincoln supplied the yet unfinished cabin withfloor, door, and windows, and life became more comfortable for all itsinmates, contentment if not happiness reigning in the little home. The new stepmother quickly became very fond of Abraham, and encouragedhim in every way in her power to study and improve himself. The chancesfor this were few enough. Mr. Lincoln has left us a vivid picture of thesituation. "It was, " he once wrote, "a wild region, with many bears andother wild animals still in the woods. There I grew up. There were someschools, so-called, but no qualification was ever required of a teacherbeyond readin', writin', and cipherin' to the Rule of Three. If astraggler supposed to understand Latin happened to sojourn in theneighborhood, he was looked upon as a wizard. " The school-house was a low cabin of round logs, with split logs or"puncheons" for a floor, split logs roughly leveled with an ax and setup on legs for benches, and holes cut out in the logs and the spacefilled in with squares of greased paper for window-panes. The main lightcame in through the open door. Very often Webster's "ElementarySpelling-book" was the only text-book. This was the kind of school mostcommon in the Middle West during Mr. Lincoln's boyhood, though alreadyin some places there were schools of a more pretentious character. Indeed, back in Kentucky, at the very time that Abraham, a child of six, was learning his letters from Zachariah Riney, a boy only a year olderwas attending a Catholic seminary in the very next county. It isdoubtful if they ever met, but the destinies of the two were strangelyinterwoven, for the older boy was Jefferson Davis, who became head ofthe Confederate government shortly after Lincoln was elected Presidentof the United States. As Abraham was only seven years old when he left Kentucky, the littlebeginnings he learned in the schools kept by Riney and Hazel in thatstate must have been very slight, probably only his alphabet, or at mostonly three or four pages of Webster's "Elementary Spelling-book. " Themultiplication-table was still a mystery to him, and he could read orwrite only the words he spelled. His first two years in Indiana seem tohave passed without schooling of any sort, and the school he attendedshortly after coming under the care of his stepmother was of thesimplest kind, for the Pigeon Creek settlement numbered only eight orten poor families, and they lived deep in the forest, where, even ifthey had had the money for such luxuries, it would have been impossibleto buy books, slates, pens, ink, or paper. It is worthy of note, however, that in our western country, even under such difficulties, aschool-house was one of the first buildings to rise in every frontiersettlement. Abraham's second school in Indiana was held when he wasfourteen years old, and the third in his seventeenth year. By that timehe had more books and better teachers, but he had to walk four or fivemiles to reach them. We know that he learned to write, and was providedwith pen, ink, and a copy-book, and a very small supply of writingpaper, for copies have been printed of several scraps on which hecarefully wrote down tables of long measure, land measure, and drymeasure, as well as examples in multiplication and compound division, from his arithmetic. He was never able to go to school again after thistime, and though the instruction he received from his five teachers--twoin Kentucky and three in Indiana--extended over a period of nine years, it must be remembered that it made up in all less than one twelvemonth;"that the aggregate of all his schooling did not amount to one year. " The fact that he received this instruction, as he himself said, "bylittles, " was doubtless an advantage. A lazy or indifferent boy would ofcourse have forgotten what was taught him at one time before he hadopportunity at another; but Abraham was neither indifferent nor lazy, and these widely separated fragments of instruction were precious stepsto self-help. He pursued his studies with very unusual purpose anddetermination not only to understand them at the moment, but to fix themfirmly in his mind. His early companions all agree that he employedevery spare moment in keeping on with some one of his studies. Hisstepmother tells us that "When he came across a passage that struck him, he would write it down on boards if he had no paper, and keep it thereuntil he did get paper. Then he would rewrite it, look at it, repeat it. He had a copy-book, a kind of scrap-book, in which he put down allthings, and thus preserved them. " He spent long evenings doing sums onthe fire-shovel. Iron fire-shovels were a rarity among pioneers. Insteadthey used a broad, thin clapboard with one end narrowed to a handle, arranging with this the piles of coals upon the hearth, over which theyset their "skillet" and "oven" to do their cooking. It was on such awooden shovel that Abraham worked his sums by the flickering firelight, making his figures with a piece of charcoal, and, when the shovel wasall covered, taking a drawing-knife and shaving it off clean again. The hours that he was able to devote to his penmanship, his reading, andhis arithmetic were by no means many; for, save for the short time thathe was actually in school, he was, during all these years, laboring hardon his father's farm, or hiring his youthful strength to neighbors whohad need of help in the work of field or forest. In pursuit of hisknowledge he was on an up-hill path; yet in spite of all obstacles heworked his way to so much of an education as placed him far ahead of hisschoolmates and quickly abreast of his various teachers. He borrowedevery book in the neighborhood. The list is a short one: "RobinsonCrusoe, " "Aesop's Fables, " Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress, " Weems's "Lifeof Washington, " and a "History of the United States. " When everythingelse had been read, he resolutely began on the "Revised Statutes ofIndiana, " which Dave Turnham, the constable, had in daily use, butpermitted him to come to his house and read. Though so fond of his books, it must not be supposed that he cared onlyfor work and serious study. He was a social, sunny-tempered lad, as fondof jokes and fun as he was kindly and industrious. His stepmother saidof him: "I can say, what scarcely one mother in a thousand can say, Abenever gave me a cross word or look, and never refused . . . To do anythingI asked him . . . I must say . . . That Abe was the best boy I ever saw orexpect to see. " He and John Johnston, his stepmother's son, and John Hanks, a relativeof his own mother's, worked barefoot together in the fields, grubbing, plowing, hoeing, gathering and shucking corn, and taking part, whenoccasion offered, in the practical jokes and athletic exercises thatenlivened the hard work of the pioneers. For both work and play Abrahamhad one great advantage. He was not only a tall, strong country boy; hesoon grew to be a tall, strong, sinewy man. He early reached the unusualheight of six feet four inches, and his long arms gave him a degree ofpower as an axman that few were able to rival. He therefore usually ledhis fellows in efforts of muscle as well as of mind. That he couldoutrun, outlift, outwrestle his boyish companions, that he could chopfaster, split more rails in a day, carry a heavier log at a "raising, "or excel the neighborhood champion in any feat of frontier athletics, was doubtless a matter of pride with him; but stronger than all else washis eager craving for knowledge. He felt instinctively that the power ofusing the mind rather than the muscles was the key to success. He wishednot only to wrestle with the best of them, but to be able to talk likethe preacher, spell and cipher like the school-master, argue like thelawyer, and write like the editor. Yet he was as far as possible frombeing a prig. He was helpful, sympathetic, cheerful. In all theneighborhood gatherings, when settlers of various ages came together atcorn-huskings or house-raisings, or when mere chance brought half adozen of them at the same time to the post-office or the country store, he was able, according to his years, to add his full share to the gaietyof the company. By reason of his reading and his excellent memory, hesoon became the best story-teller among his companions; and even theslight training gained from his studies greatly broadened andstrengthened the strong reasoning faculty with which he had been giftedby nature. His wit might be mischievous, but it was never malicious, andhis nonsense was never intended to wound or to hurt the feelings. It istold of him that he added to his fund of jokes and stories humorousimitations of the sermons of eccentric preachers. Very likely too much is made of all these boyish pranks. He grew up verylike his fellows. In only one particular did he differ greatly from thefrontier boys around him. He never took any pleasure in hunting. Almostevery youth of the backwoods early became an excellent shot and aconfirmed sportsman. The woods still swarmed with game, and every cabindepended largely upon this for its supply of food. But to his strengthwas added a gentleness which made him shrink from killing or inflictingpain, and the time the other boys gave to lying in ambush, he preferredto spend in reading or in efforts at improving his mind. Only twice during his life in Indiana was the routine of his employmentchanged. When he was about sixteen years old he worked for a time for aman who lived at the mouth of Anderson's Creek, and here part of hisduty was to manage a ferry-boat which carried passengers across the OhioRiver. It was very likely this experience which, three years later, brought him another. Mr. Gentry, the chief man of the village ofGentryville that had grown up a mile or so from his father's cabin, loaded a flatboat on the Ohio River with the produce his store hadcollected--corn, flour, pork, bacon, and other miscellaneousprovisions--and putting it in charge of his son Allen Gentry and ofAbraham Lincoln, sent them with it down the Ohio and Mississippi rivers, to sell its cargo at the plantations of the lower Mississippi, wheresugar and cotton were the principal crops, and where other food supplieswere needed to feed the slaves. No better proof is needed of thereputation for strength, skill, honesty, and intelligence that this tallcountry boy had already won for himself, than that he was chosen tonavigate the flatboat a thousand miles to the "sugar-coast" of theMississippi River, sell its load, and bring back the money. Allen Gentrywas supposed to be in command, but from the record of his after life wemay be sure that Abraham did his full share both of work and management. The elder Gentry paid Lincoln eight dollars a month and his passage homeon a steamboat for this service. The voyage was made successfully, although not without adventure; for one night, after the boat was tiedup to the shore, the boys were attacked by seven negroes, who cameaboard intending to kill and rob him. There was a lively scrimmage, inwhich, though slightly hurt, they managed to beat off their assailants, and then, hastily cutting their boat adrift, swung out on the stream. The marauding band little dreamed that they were attacking the man whoin after years was to give their race its freedom; and though the futurewas equally hidden from Abraham, it is hard to estimate the vistas ofhope and ambition that this long journey opened to him. It was his firstlook into the wide, wide world. 419 Anna Howard Shaw (1847-1919) was national lecturer for the National American Woman Suffrage Association from 1886 to 1904, and was president of that association from 1904 to 1915. She was known as a lecturer rather than as an author, but her autobiography, entitled _The Story of a Pioneer_, is a charming book that will help us realize some of the tragedy and humor of pioneer days and some of the difficulties that had to be overcome by a woman who was determined to follow a career practically closed to women. (The selection below is from the early part of _The Story of a Pioneer_, and is used here by permission of the publishers, Harper & Brothers, New York. ) IN THE WESTERN WILDERNESS ANNA HOWARD SHAW My father was one of a number of Englishmen who took up tracts in thenorthern forests of Michigan, with the old dream of establishing acolony there. None of these men had the least practical knowledge offarming. They were city men or followers of trades which had noconnection with farm life. They went straight into the thicktimber-land, instead of going to the rich and waiting prairies, and theycrowned this initial mistake by cutting down the splendid timber insteadof letting it stand. Thus bird's-eye maple and other beautiful woodswere used as fire-wood and in the construction of rude cabins, and thegreatest asset of the pioneer was ignored. Father preceded us to the Michigan woods, and there, with his oldestson, James, took up a claim. They cleared a space in the wilderness justlarge enough for a log cabin, and put up the bare walls of the cabinitself. Then father returned to Lawrence and his work, leaving Jamesbehind. A few months later (this was in 1859), my mother, my twosisters, Eleanor and Mary, my youngest brother, Henry, eight years ofage, and I, then twelve, went to Michigan to work on and hold down theclaim while father, for eighteen months longer, stayed on in Lawrence, sending us such remittances as he could. His second and third sons, Johnand Thomas, remained in the East with him. Every detail of our journey through the wilderness is clear in my mind. At that time the railroad terminated at Grand Rapids, Michigan, and wecovered the remaining distance--about one hundred miles--by wagon, riding through a dense and often trackless forest. My brother James metus at Grand Rapids with what, in those days, was called a lumber-wagon, but which had a horrible resemblance to a vehicle from the healthdepartment. My sisters and I gave it one cold look and turned from it;we were so pained by its appearance that we refused to ride in itthrough the town. Instead, we started off on foot, trying to look as ifwe had no association with it, and we climbed into the unwieldy vehicleonly when the city streets were far behind us. Every available inch ofspace in the wagon was filled with bedding and provisions. As yet we hadno furniture; we were to make that for ourselves when we reached ourcabin; and there was so little room for us to ride that we childrenwalked by turns, while James, from the beginning of the journey to itsend, seven days later, led our weary horses. To my mother, who was never strong, the whole experience must have beena nightmare of suffering and stoical endurance. For us children therewere compensations. The expedition took on the character of a highadventure, in which we sometimes had shelter and sometimes failed tofind it, sometimes were fed, but often went hungry. We fordedinnumerable streams, the wheels of the heavy wagon sinking so deeplyinto the stream-beds that we often had to empty our load before we couldget them out again. Fallen trees lay across our paths, rivers causedlong detours, while again and again we lost our way or were turned asideby impenetrable forest tangles. Our first day's journey covered less than eight miles, and that night westopped at a farm-house which was the last bit of civilization we saw. Early the next morning we were off again, making the slow progress dueto the rough roads and our heavy load. At night we stopped at a placecalled Thomas's Inn, only to be told by the woman who kept it that therewas nothing in the house to eat. Her husband, she said, had gone"outside" (to Grand Rapids) to get some flour, and had not returned--butshe added that we could spend the night, if we chose, and enjoy shelter, if not food. We had provisions in our wagon, so we wearily entered, after my brother had got out some of our pork and opened a barrel offlour. With this help the woman made some biscuits, which were so greenthat my poor mother could not eat them. She had admitted to us that theone thing she had in the house was saleratus, and she had used thisingredient with an unsparing hand. When the meal was eaten she broke thefurther news that there were no beds. "The old woman can sleep with me, " she suggested, "and the girls cansleep on the floor. The boys will have to go to the barn. " She and her bed were not especially attractive, and mother decided tolie on the floor with us. We had taken our bedding from the wagon, andwe slept very well; but though she was usually superior to smallannoyances, I think my mother resented being called an "old woman. " Shemust have felt like one that night, but she was only about forty-eightyears of age. At dawn the next morning we resumed our journey, and every day afterthat we were able to cover the distance demanded by the schedulearranged before we started. This meant that some sort of shelter usuallyawaited us at night. But one day we knew there would be no housesbetween the place we left in the morning and that where we were tosleep. The distance was about twenty miles, and when twilight fell wehad not made it. In the back of the wagon my mother had a box of littlepigs, and during the afternoon these had broken loose and escaped intothe woods. We had lost much time in finding them, and we were soexhausted that when we came to a hut made of twigs and boughs we decidedto camp in it for the night, though we knew nothing about it. My brotherhad unharnessed the horses, and my mother and sister were cookingdough-god--a mixture of flour, water, and soda, fried in a pan--when twomen rode up on horseback and called my brother to one side. Immediatelyafter the talk which followed James harnessed his horses again andforced us to go on, though by that time darkness had fallen. He toldmother, but did not tell us children until long afterward, that a manhad been murdered in the hut only the night before. The murderer wasstill at large in the woods, and the new-comers were members of a possewho were searching for him. My brother needed no urging to put as manymiles as he could between us and the sinister spot. In that fashion we made our way to our new home. The last day, like thefirst, we traveled only eight miles, but we spent the night in a house Ishall never forget. It was beautifully clean, and for our evening mealits mistress brought out loaves of bread which were the largest we hadever seen. She cut great slices of this bread for us and spread maplesugar on them, and it seemed to us that never before had anything tastedso good. The next morning we made the last stage of our journey, our heartsfilled with the joy of nearing our new home. We all had an idea that wewere going to a farm, and we expected some resemblance at least to theprosperous farms we had seen in New England. My mother's mental picturewas, naturally, of an English farm. Possibly she had visions of redbarns and deep meadows, sunny skies and daisies. What we found awaitingus were the four walls and the roof of a good-sized log-house, standingin a small cleared strip of the wilderness, its doors and windowsrepresented by square holes, its floor also a thing of the future, itswhole effect achingly forlorn and desolate. It was late in the afternoonwhen we drove up to the opening that was its front entrance, and I shallnever forget the look my mother turned upon the place. Without a wordshe crossed its threshold, and, standing very still, looked slowlyaround her. Then something within her seemed to give way, and she sankupon the ground. She could not realize even then, I think, that this wasreally the place father had prepared for us, that here he expected us tolive. When she finally took it in she buried her face in her hands, andin that way she sat for hours without moving or speaking. For the firsttime in her life she had forgotten us; and we, for our part, dared notspeak to her. We stood around her in a frightened group, talking to oneanother in whispers. Our little world had crumbled under our feet. Neverbefore had we seen our mother give way to despair. Night began to fall. The woods became alive with night creatures, andthe most harmless made the most noise. The owls began to hoot, and soonwe heard the wildcat, whose cry--a screech like that of a lost andpanic-stricken child--is one of the most appalling sounds of the forest. Later the wolves added their howls to the uproar, but though darknesscame and we children whimpered around her, our mother still sat in herstrange lethargy. At last my brother brought the horses close to the cabin and built firesto protect them and us. He was only twenty, but he showed himself a manduring those early pioneer days. While he was picketing the horses andbuilding his protecting fires my mother came to herself, but her facewhen she raised it was worse than her silence had been. She seemed tohave died and to have returned to us from the grave, and I am sure shefelt that she had done so. From that moment she took up again the burdenof her life, a burden she did not lay down until she passed away; buther face never lost the deep lines those first hours of her pioneer lifehad cut upon it. That night we slept on boughs spread on the earth inside the cabinwalls, and we put blankets before the holes which represented our doorsand windows, and kept our watch-fires burning. Soon the other childrenfell asleep, but there was no sleep for me. I was only twelve years old, but my mind was full of fancies. Behind our blankets, swaying in thenight wind, I thought I saw the heads and pushing shoulders of animalsand heard their padded footfalls. We faced our situation with clear and unalarmed eyes the morning afterour arrival. The problem of food, we knew, was at least temporarilysolved. We had brought with us enough coffee, pork, and flour to lastfor several weeks; and the one necessity father had put inside the cabinwalls was a great fireplace, made of mud and stones, in which our foodcould be cooked. The problem of our water-supply was less simple, but mybrother James solved it for the time by showing us a creek a longdistance from the house, and for months we carried from this creek, inpails, every drop of water we used, save that which we caught in troughswhen the rain fell. We held a family council after breakfast, and in this, though I was onlytwelve, I took an eager and determined part. I loved work--it has alwaysbeen my favorite form of recreation--and my spirit rose to theopportunities of it which smiled on us from every side. Obviously thefirst thing to do was to put doors and windows into the yawning holesfather had left for them, and to lay a board flooring over the earthinside our cabin walls, and these duties we accomplished before we hadoccupied our new home a fortnight. There was a small saw-mill nine milesfrom our cabin, on the spot that is now Big Rapids, and there we boughtour lumber. The labor we supplied ourselves, and though we put ourhearts into it and the results at the time seemed beautiful to ourpartial eyes, I am forced to admit, in looking back upon them, that theyhalted this side of perfection. We began by making three windows and twodoors; then, inspired by these achievements, we ambitiously constructedan attic and divided the ground floor with partitions, which gave usfour rooms. The general effect was temperamental and sketchy. The boards whichformed the floor were never even nailed down; they were fine, wideplanks without a knot in them, and they looked so well that we merelyfitted them together as closely as we could and light-heartedly let themgo at that. Neither did we properly chink the house. Nothing is morecomfortable than a log cabin which has been carefully built andfinished; but for some reason--probably because there seemed always amore urgent duty calling to us around the corner--we never plastered ourhouse at all. The result was that on many future winter mornings weawoke to find ourselves chastely blanketed by snow, while the only warmspot in our living-room was that directly in front of the fireplace, where great logs burned all day. Even there our faces scorched while ourspines slowly congealed, until we learned to revolve before the firelike a bird upon a spit. No doubt we would have worked more thoroughlyif my brother James, who was twenty years old and our tower of strength, had remained with us; but when we had been in our new home only a fewmonths he fell ill and was forced to go East for an operation. He wasnever able to return to us, and thus my mother, we three young girls, and my youngest brother--Harry, who was only eight years old--made ourfight alone until father came to us, more than a year later. Mother was practically an invalid. She had a nervous affection whichmade it impossible for her to stand without the support of a chair. Butshe sewed with unusual skill, and it was due to her that our clothes, notwithstanding the strain to which we subjected them, were always ingood condition. She sewed for hours every day, and she was able to moveabout the house, after a fashion, by pushing herself around on a stoolwhich James made for her as soon as we arrived. He also built for her amore comfortable chair with a high back. The division of labor planned at the first council was that mothershould do our sewing, and my older sisters, Eleanor and Mary, thehousework, which was far from taxing, for of course we lived in thesimplest manner. My brothers and I were to do the work out of doors, anarrangement that suited me very well, though at first, owing to our lackof experience, our activities were somewhat curtailed. It was too latein the season for plowing or planting, even if we had possessed anythingwith which to plow, and, moreover, our so-called "cleared" land wasthick with sturdy tree-stumps. Even during the second summer plowing wasimpossible; we could only plant potatoes and corn, and follow the mostprimitive method in doing even this. We took an ax, chopped up the sod, put the seed under it, and let the seed grow. The seed did grow, too--inthe most gratifying and encouraging manner. Our green corn and potatoeswere the best I have ever eaten. But for the present we lacked theseluxuries. We had, however, in their place, large quantities of wildfruit--gooseberries, raspberries, and plums--which Harry and I gatheredon the banks of our creek. Harry also became an expert fisherman. We hadno hooks or lines, but he took wires from our hoop-skirts and madesnares at the ends of poles. My part of this work was to stand on a logand frighten the fish out of their holes by making horrible sounds, which I did with impassioned earnestness. When the fish hurried to thesurface of the water to investigate the appalling noises they had heard, they were easily snared by our small boy, who was very proud of hisability to contribute in this way to the family table. During our first winter we lived largely on cornmeal, making a littlejourney of twenty miles to the nearest mill to buy it; but even at thatwe were better off than our neighbors, for I remember one family in ourregion who for an entire winter lived solely on coarse-grained yellowturnips, gratefully changing their diet to leeks when these came in thespring. Such furniture as we had we made ourselves. In addition to my mother'stwo chairs and the bunks which took the place of beds, James made asettle for the living-room, as well as a table and several stools. Atfirst we had our tree-cutting done for us, but we soon became expert inthis gentle art, and I developed such skill that in later years, afterfather came, I used to stand with him and "heart" a log. On every side, and at every hour of the day, we came up against therelentless limitations of pioneer life. There was not a team of horsesin our entire region. The team with which my brother had driven usthrough the wilderness had been hired at Grand Rapids for that occasion, and, of course, immediately returned. Our lumber was delivered byox-teams, and the absolutely essential purchases we made "outside" (atthe nearest shops, forty miles away) were carried through the forest onthe backs of men. Our mail was delivered once a month by a carrier whomade the journey in alternate stages of horseback riding and canoeing. But we had health, youth, enthusiasm, good appetites, and thewherewithal to satisfy them, and at night in our primitive bunks we sankinto abysses of dreamless slumber such as I have never known since. Indeed, looking back upon them, those first months seem to have been along-drawn-out and glorious picnic, interrupted only by occasional hoursof pain or panic, when we were hurt or frightened. Naturally, our two greatest menaces were wild animals and Indians, butas the days passed the first of these lost the early terrors with whichwe had associated them. We grew indifferent to the sounds that had madeour first night a horror to us all--there was even a certain homelinessin them--while we regarded with accustomed, almost blase eyes thevarious furred creatures of which we caught distant glimpses as theyslunk through the forest. Their experience with other settlers hadtaught them caution; it soon became clear that they were as eager toavoid us as we were to shun them, and by common consent we gave eachother ample elbow-room. But the Indians were all around us, and everysettler had a collection of hair-raising tales to tell of them. It wasgenerally agreed that they were dangerous only when they were drunk; butas they were drunk whenever they could get whisky, and as whisky wasconstantly given them in exchange for pelts and game, there was aharrowing doubt in our minds whenever they approached us. In my first encounter with them I was alone in the woods at sunset withmy small brother Harry. We were hunting a cow James had bought, and ouryoung eyes were peering eagerly among the trees, on the alert for anymoving object. Suddenly, at a little distance, coming directly towardus, we saw a party of Indians. There were five of them, all men, walkingin single file, as noiselessly as ghosts, their moccasined feet causingnot even a rustle among the dry leaves that carpeted the woods. All thehorrible stories we had heard of Indian cruelty flashed into our minds, and for a moment we were dumb with terror. Then I remembered having beentold that the one thing one must not do before them is to show fear. Harry was carrying a rope with which we had expected to lead home ourreluctant cow, and I seized one end of it and whispered to him that wewould "play horse, " pretending he was driving me. We pranced toward theIndians on feet that felt like lead, and with eyes so glazed by terrorthat we could see nothing save a line of moving figures; but as wepassed them they did not give to our little impersonation of care-freechildren even the tribute of a side-glance. They were, we realized, headed straight for our home; and after a few moments we doubled on ourtracks and, keeping at a safe distance from them among the trees, ranback to warn our mother that they were coming. As it happened, James was away, and mother had to meet her unwelcomeguests supported only by her young children. She at once prepared ameal, however, and when they arrived she welcomed them calmly and gavethem the best she had. After they had eaten they began to point at anddemand objects they fancied in the room--my brother's pipe, sometobacco, a bowl, and such trifles--and my mother, who was afraid toannoy them by refusal, gave them what they asked. They were quite sober, and though they left without expressing any appreciation of herhospitality, they made her a second visit a few months later, bringing alarge quantity of venison and a bag of cranberries as a graceful return. These Indians were Ottawas; and later we became very friendly with themand their tribe, even to the degree of attending one of their dances, which I shall describe later. Our second encounter with Indians was a less agreeable experience. Therewere seven "Marquette warriors" in the next group of callers, and theywere all intoxicated. Moreover, they had brought with them several jugsof bad whisky--the raw and craze-provoking product supplied them by thefur-dealers--and it was clear that our cabin was to be the scene of anorgy. Fortunately, my brother James was at home on this occasion, and asthe evening grew old and the Indians, grouped together around the fire, became more and more irresponsible, he devised a plan for our safety. Our attic was finished, and its sole entrance was by a ladder through atrap-door. At James's whispered command my sister Eleanor slipped upinto the attic, and from the back window let down a rope, to which hetied all the weapons we had--his gun and several axes. These Eleanordrew up and concealed in one of the bunks. My brother then directed thatas quietly as possible, and at long intervals, one member of the familyafter another was to slip up the ladder and into the attic, going quitecasually, that the Indians might not realize what we were doing. Oncethere, with the ladder drawn up after us and the trap-door closed, wewould be reasonably safe, unless our guests decided to burn the cabin. The evening seemed endless, and was certainly nerve-racking. The Indiansate everything in the house, and from my seat in a dim corner I watchedthem while my sisters waited on them. I can still see the tableau theymade in the firelit room and hear the unfamiliar accents of their speechas they talked together. Occasionally one of them would pull a hair fromhis head, seize his scalping-knife, and cut the hair with it--a mostunpleasant sight! When either of my sisters approached them some of theIndians would make gestures, as if capturing and scalping her. Throughit all, however, the whisky held their close attention, and it was dueto this that we succeeded in reaching the attic unobserved, James cominglast of all and drawing the ladder after him. Mother and the childrenwere then put to bed; but through that interminable night James andEleanor lay flat upon the floor, watching through the cracks between theboards the revels of the drunken Indians, which grew wilder with everyhour that crawled toward sunrise. There was no knowing when they wouldmiss us or how soon their mood might change. At any moment they mightmake an attack upon us or set fire to the cabin. By dawn, however, theirwhisky was all gone, and they were in so deep a stupor that, one afterthe other, the seven fell from their chairs to the floor, where theysprawled unconscious. When they awoke they left quietly and withouttrouble of any kind. They seemed a strangely subdued and chastened band;probably they were wretchedly ill after their debauch on the adulteratedwhisky the traders had given them. That autumn the Ottawa tribe had a great corn celebration, to which weand the other settlers were invited. James and my older sisters attendedit, and I went with them, by my own urgent invitation. It seemed to methat as I was sharing the work and the perils of our new environment, Imight as well share its joys; and I finally succeeded in making myfamily see the logic of this position. The central feature of thefestivity was a huge kettle, many feet in circumference, into which theIndians dropped the most extraordinary variety of food we had ever seencombined. Deer heads went into it whole, as well as every kind of meatand vegetable the members of the tribe could procure. We all ate some ofthis agreeable mixture, and later, with one another, and even with theIndians, we danced gaily to the music of a tom-tom and a drum. Theaffair was extremely interesting until the whisky entered and did itsunpleasant work. When our hosts began to fall over in the dance andslumber where they lay, and when the squaws began to show the same illeffects of their refreshments, we unostentatiously slipped away. During the winter, life offered us few diversions and many hardships. Our creek froze over, and the water problem became a serious one, whichwe met with increasing difficulty as the temperature steadily fell. Wemelted snow and ice, and existed through the frozen months, but with anamount of discomfort which made us unwilling to repeat at least thatspecial phase of our experience. In the spring, therefore, I made awell. Long before this, James had gone, and Harry and I were now theonly out-door members of our working-force. Harry was still too small tohelp with the well; but a young man, who had formed the neighborly habitof riding eighteen miles to call on us, gave me much friendly aid. Welocated the well with a switch, and when we had dug as far as we couldreach with our spades, my assistant descended into the hole and threwthe earth up to the edge, from which I in turn removed it. As the wellgrew deeper we made a halfway shelf, on which I stood, he throwing theearth on the shelf, and I shoveling it up from that point. Later, as hedescended still farther into the hole we were making, he shoveled theearth into buckets and passed them up to me, I passing them on to mysister, who was now pressed into service. When the excavation was deepenough we made the wall of slabs of wood, roughly joined together. Irecall that well with calm content. It was not a thing of beauty, but itwas a thoroughly practical well, and it remained the only one we hadduring the twelve years the family occupied the cabin. The second spring after our arrival Harry and I extended our operationsby tapping the sugar-bushes, collecting all the sap, and carrying ithome in pails slung from our yoke-laden shoulders. Together we made onehundred and fifty pounds of sugar and a barrel of syrup, but here again, as always, we worked in primitive ways. To get the sap we chopped a gashin the tree and drove in a spile. Then we dug out a trough to catch thesap. It was no light task to lift these troughs full of sap and emptythe sap into buckets, but we did it successfully, and afterward builtfires and boiled it down. By this time we had also cleared some of ourground, and during the spring we were able to plow, dividing the work ina way that seemed fair to us both. These were strenuous occupations fora boy of nine and a girl of thirteen, but, though we were notinordinately good children, we never complained; we found them verysatisfactory substitutes for more normal bucolic joys. Inevitably, wehad our little tragedies. Our cow died, and for an entire winter we wentwithout milk. Our coffee soon gave out, and as a substitute we made andused a mixture of browned peas and burnt rye. In the winter we werealways cold, and the water problem, until we had built our well, wasever with us. When I was fifteen years old I was offered a situation asschool-teacher. By this time the community was growing around us withthe rapidity characteristic of these Western settlements, and we hadnearer neighbors whose children needed instruction. I passed anexamination before a school-board consisting of three nervous andself-conscious men whose certificate I still hold, and I at once beganmy professional career on the modest salary of two dollars a week and myboard. The school was four miles from my home, so I "boarded round" withthe families of my pupils, staying two weeks in each place, and oftenwalking from three to six miles a day to and from my little logschool-house in every kind of weather. During the first year I had aboutfourteen pupils, of varying ages, sizes, and temperaments, and therewas hardly a book in the schoolroom except those I owned. One littlegirl, I remembered, read from an almanac, while a second used ahymn-book. In winter the school-house was heated by a wood-stove to which theteacher had to give close personal attention. I could not depend on mypupils to make the fires or carry in the fuel; and it was oftennecessary to fetch the wood myself, sometimes for long distances throughthe forest. Again and again, after miles of walking through winterstorms, I reached the school-house with my clothing wet through, and inthese soaked garments I taught during the day. In "boarding round" Ioften found myself in one-room cabins, with bunks at the end and thesole partition a sheet or a blanket, behind which I slept with one ortwo of the children. It was the custom on these occasions for the man ofthe house to delicately retire to the barn while we women got to bed, and to disappear again in the morning while we dressed. In some placesthe meals were so badly cooked that I could not eat them, and often theonly food my poor little pupils brought to school for their noonday mealwas a piece of bread or a bit of raw pork. 420 Hero stories have a special place in the literature of childhood, and of all such stories none has ever surpassed that of Leonidas and his brave Spartans. The account of that famous event is given from Miss Yonge's _A Book of Golden Deeds_ (1864), which is yet one of the best storehouses of hero stories. It is published in a variety of editions by different publishers, and teachers will find it an excellent source for usable material. THE PASS OF THERMOPYLAE CHARLOTTE M. YONGE _B. C. 430_ There was trembling in Greece. "The Great King, " as the Greeks calledthe chief potentate of the East, whose domains stretched from the IndianCaucasus to the Aegæus, from the Caspian to the Red Sea, was marshalinghis forces against the little free states that nestled amid the rocksand gulfs of the Eastern Mediterranean. Already had his might devouredthe cherished colonies of the Greeks on the eastern shore of theArchipelago, and every traitor to home institutions found a ready asylumat that despotic court, and tried to revenge his own wrongs bywhispering incitements to invasion. "All people, nations, andlanguages, " was the commencement of the decrees of that monarch's court;and it was scarcely a vain boast, for his satraps ruled over subjectkingdoms, and among his tributary nations he counted the Chaldean, withhis learning and old civilization, the wise and steadfast Jew, theskillful Ph[oe]nician, the learned Egyptian, the wild freebooting Arabof the desert, the dark-skinned Ethiopian, and over all these ruled thekeen witted, active native Persian race, the conquerors of all the rest, and led by a chosen band proudly called the Immortal. His manycapitals--Babylon the great, Susa, Persepolis, and the like--were namesof dreamy splendor to the Greeks, described now and then by Ionians fromAsia Minor who had carried their tribute to the King's own feet, or bycourtier slaves who had escaped with difficulty from being all tooserviceable at the tyrannic court. And the lord of this enormous empirewas about to launch his countless host against the little cluster ofstates, the whole of which together would hardly equal one province ofthe huge Asiatic realm! Moreover, it was a war not only on the men buton their gods. The Persians were zealous adorers of the sun and of fire, they abhorred the idol-worship of the Greeks, and defiled and plunderedevery temple that fell in their way. Death and desolation were almostthe best that could be looked for at such hands--slavery and torturefrom cruelly barbarous masters would only too surely be the lot ofnumbers, should their land fall a prey to the conquerors. True it was that ten years back the former Great King had sent his besttroops to be signally defeated upon the coast of Attica; but the lossesat Marathon had but stimulated the Persian lust of conquest, and the newKing Xerxes was gathering together such myriads of men as should crushdown the Greeks and overrun their country by mere force of numbers. The muster place was at Sardis, and there Greek spies had seen themultitudes assembling and the state and magnificence of the king'sattendants. Envoys had come from him to demand earth and water from eachstate in Greece, as emblems that land and sea were his, but each statewas resolved to be free, and only Thessaly, that which lay first in hispath, consented to yield the token of subjugation. A council was held atthe Isthmus of Corinth, and attended by deputies from all the states ofGreece to consider of the best means of defense. The ships of the enemywould coast round the shores of the Aegean sea, the land army wouldcross the Hellespont on a bridge of boats lashed together, and marchsouthwards into Greece. The only hope of averting the danger lay indefending such passages as, from the nature of the ground, were sonarrow that only a few persons could fight hand to hand at once, so thatcourage would be of more avail than numbers. The first of these passes was called Tempe, and a body of troops wassent to guard it; but they found that this was useless and impossible, and came back again. The next was at Thermopylae. Look in your map ofthe Archipelago, or Aegean Sea, as it was then called, for the greatisland of Negropont, or by its old name, Eub[oe]a. It looks like a piecebroken off from the coast, and to the north is shaped like the head of abird, with the beak running into a gulf, that would fit over it, uponthe main land, and between the island and the coast is an exceedinglynarrow strait. The Persian army would have to march round the edge ofthe gulf. They could not cut straight across the country, because theridge of mountains called Oeta rose up and barred their way. Indeed, thewoods, rocks, and precipices came down so near the sea-shore that in twoplaces there was only room for one single wheel track between the steepsand the impassable morass that formed the border of the gulf on itssouth side. These two very narrow places were called the gates of thepass, and were about a mile apart. There was a little more width left inthe intervening space; but in this there were a number of springs ofwarm mineral water, salt and sulphurous, which were used for the sick tobathe in, and thus the place was called Thermopylae, or the Hot Gates. Awall had once been built across the westernmost of these narrow places, when the Thessalians and Phocians, who lived on either side of it, hadbeen at war with one another; but it had been allowed to go to decay, since the Phocians had found out that there was a very steep narrowmountain path along the bed of a torrent, by which it was possible tocross from one territory to the other without going round this marshycoast road. This was, therefore, an excellent place to defend. The Greek ships wereall drawn up on the further side of Eub[oe]a to prevent the Persianvessels from getting into the strait and landing men beyond the pass, and a division of the army was sent off to guard the Hot Gates. Thecouncil at the Isthmus did not know of the mountain pathway, and thoughtthat all would be safe as long as the Persians were kept out of thecoast path. The troops sent for this purpose were from different cities, andamounted to about 4, 000 who were to keep the pass against two millions. The leader of them was Leonidas, who had newly become one of the twokings of Sparta, the city that above all in Greece trained its sons tobe hardy soldiers, dreading death infinitely less than shame. Leonidashad already made up his mind that the expedition would probably be hisdeath, perhaps because a prophecy had been given at the Temple at Delphithat Sparta should be saved by the death of one of her kings of the raceof Hercules. He was allowed by law to take with him 300 men, and thesehe chose most carefully, not merely for their strength and courage, butselecting those who had sons, so that no family might altogether bedestroyed. These Spartans, with their helots or slaves, made up his ownshare of the numbers, but all the army was under his generalship. It iseven said that the 300 celebrated their own funeral rites before theyset out lest they should be deprived of them by the enemy, since, as wehave already seen, it was the Greek belief that the spirits of the deadfound no rest till their obsequies had been performed. Such preparationsdid not daunt the spirits of Leonidas and his men, and his wife, Gorgo, was not a woman to be faint-hearted or hold him back. Long before, whenshe was a very little girl, a word of hers had saved her father fromlistening to a traitorous message from the King of Persia; and everySpartan lady was bred up to be able to say to those she best loved thatthey must come home from battle "with the shield or on it"--eithercarrying it victoriously or borne upon it as a corpse. When Leonidas came to Thermopylae, the Phocians told him of the mountainpath through the chestnut woods of Mount Oeta, and begged to have theprivilege of guarding it on a spot high up on the mountain side, assuring him that it was very hard to find at the other end, and thatthere was every probability that the enemy would never discover it. Heconsented, and encamping around the warm springs, caused the broken wallto be repaired, and made ready to meet the foe. The Persian army were seen covering the whole country like locusts, andthe hearts of some of the southern Greeks in the pass began to sink. Their homes in the Peloponnesus were comparatively secure--had they notbetter fall back and reserve themselves to defend the Isthmus ofCorinth? But Leonidas, though Sparta was safe below the Isthmus, had nointention of abandoning his northern allies, and kept the otherPeloponnesians to their posts, only sending messengers for furtherhelp. Presently a Persian on horseback rode up to reconnoiter the pass. Hecould not see over the wall, but in front of it and on the ramparts, hesaw the Spartans, some of them engaged in active sports, and others incombing their long hair. He rode back to the king, and told him what hehad seen. Now, Xerxes had in his camp an exiled Spartan Prince, namedDemaratus, who had become a traitor to his country, and was serving ascounselor to the enemy. Xerxes sent for him, and asked whether hiscountrymen were mad to be thus employed instead of fleeing away; butDemaratus made answer that a hard fight was no doubt in preparation, andthat it was the custom of the Spartans to array their hair with especialcare when they were about to enter upon any great peril. Xerxes would, however, not believe that so petty a force could intend to resist him, and waited four days, probably expecting his fleet to assist him, but asit did not appear, the attack was made. The Greeks, stronger men and more heavily armed, were far better able tofight to advantage than the Persians with their short spears and wickershields, and beat them off with great ease. It is said that Xerxes threetimes leapt off his throne in despair at the sight of his troops beingdriven backwards; and thus for two days it seemed as easy to force a waythrough the Spartans as through the rocks themselves. Nay, how couldslavish troops, dragged from home to spread the victories of anambitious king, fight like freemen who felt that their strokes were todefend their homes and children? But on that evening a wretched man, named Ephialtes, crept into thePersian camp, and offered, for a great sum of money, to show themountain path that would enable the enemy to take the brave defenders inthe rear! A Persian general, named Hydarnes, was sent off at night-fallwith a detachment to secure this passage, and was guided through thethick forests that clothed the hillside. In the stillness of the air, atdaybreak, the Phocian guards of the path were startled by the cracklingof the chestnut leaves under the tread of many feet. They started up, but a shower of arrows was discharged on them, and forgetting all savethe present alarm, they fled to a higher part of the mountain, and theenemy, without waiting to pursue them, began to descend. As day dawned, morning light showed the watchers of the Grecian campbelow a glittering and shimmering in the torrent bed where the shaggyforests opened; but it was not the sparkle of water, but the shine ofgilded helmets and the gleaming of silvered spears. Moreover, aCimmerian crept over to the wall from the Persian camp with tidings thatthe path had been betrayed, that the enemy were climbing it, and wouldcome down beyond the Eastern Gate. Still, the way was rugged andcircuitous, the Persians would hardly descend before midday, and therewas ample time for the Greeks to escape before they could thus be shutin by the enemy. There was a short council held over the morning sacrifice. Megistias, the seer, on inspecting the entrails of the slain victim, declared, aswell he might, that their appearance boded disaster. Him Leonidasordered to retire, but he refused, though he sent home his only son. There was no disgrace to an ordinary tone of mind in leaving a post thatcould not be held, and Leonidas recommended all the allied troops underhis command to march away while yet the way was open. As to himself andhis Spartans, they had made up their minds to die at their post, andthere could be no doubt that the example of such a resolution would domore to save Greece than their best efforts could ever do if they werecareful to reserve themselves for another occasion. All the allies consented to retreat, except the eighty men who came fromMycenae and the 700 Thespians, who declared that they would not desertLeonidas. There were also 400 Thebans who remained; and thus the wholenumber that stayed with Leonidas to confront two million of enemies were1400 warriors, besides the helots or attendants on the 300 Spartans, whose number is not known, but there was probably at least one to each. Leonidas had two kinsmen in the camp, like himself, claiming the bloodof Hercules, and he tried to save them by giving them letters andmessages to Sparta; but one answered that "he had come to fight, not tocarry letters"; and the other, that "his deeds would tell all thatSparta wished to know. " Another Spartan, named Dienices, when told thatthe enemy's archers were so numerous that their arrows darkened the sun, replied, "So much the better, we shall fight in the shade. " Two of the300 had been sent to a neighboring village, suffering severely from acomplaint in the eyes. One of them, called Eurytus, put on his armor, and commanded his helot to lead him to his place in the ranks; theother, called Aristodemus, was so overpowered with illness that heallowed himself to be carried away with the retreating allies. It wasstill early in the day when all were gone, and Leonidas gave the word tohis men to take their last meal. "To-night, " he said, "we shall sup withPluto. " Hitherto, he had stood on the defensive, and had husbanded the lives ofhis men; but he now desired to make as great a slaughter as possible, soas to inspire the enemy with dread of the Grecian name. He thereforemarched out beyond the wall, without waiting to be attacked, and thebattle began. The Persian captains went behind their wretched troops andscourged them on to the fight with whips! Poor wretches, they weredriven on to be slaughtered, pierced with the Greek spears, hurled intothe sea, or trampled into the mud of the morass; but their inexhaustiblenumbers told at length. The spears of the Greeks broke under hardservice, and their swords alone remained; they began to fall, andLeonidas himself was among the first of the slain. Hotter than ever wasthe fight over his corpse, and two Persian princes, brothers of Xerxes, were there killed; but at length word was brought that Hydarnes was overthe pass, and that the few remaining men were thus enclosed on allsides. The Spartans and Thespians made their way to a little hillockwithin the wall, resolved to let this be the place of their last stand;but the hearts of the Thebans failed them, and they came towards thePersians holding out their hands in entreaty for mercy. Quarter wasgiven to them, but they were all branded with the king's mark asuntrustworthy deserters. The helots probably at this time escaped intothe mountains; while the small desperate band stood side by side on thehill still fighting to the last, some with swords, others with daggers, others even with their hands and teeth, till not one living manremained amongst them when the sun went down. There was only a mound ofslain, bristled over with arrows. Twenty thousand Persians had died before that handful of men! Xerxesasked Demaratus if there were many more at Sparta like these, and wastold there were 8, 000. It must have been with a somewhat failing heartthat he invited his courtiers from the fleet to see what he had done tothe men who dared to oppose him, and showed them the head and arm ofLeonidas set up upon a cross; but he took care that all his own slain, except 1, 000, should first be put out of sight. The body of the braveking was buried where he fell, as were those of the other dead. Muchenvied were they by the unhappy Aristodemus, who found himself called byno name but the "Coward, " and was shunned by all his fellow-citizens. Noone would give him fire or water, and after a year of misery, heredeemed his honor by perishing in the forefront of the battle ofPlatæa, which was the last blow that drove the Persians ingloriouslyfrom Greece. The Greeks then united in doing honor to the brave warriors who, hadthey been better supported, might have saved the whole country frominvasion. The poet Simonides wrote the inscriptions that were engravedupon the pillars that were set up in the pass to commemorate this greataction. One was outside the wall, where most of the fighting had been. It seems to have been in honor of the whole number who had for two daysresisted-- "Here did four thousand men from Pelops' land Against three hundred myriads bravely stand. " In honor of the Spartans was another column-- "Go, traveler, to Sparta tell That here, obeying her, we fell. " On the little hillock of the last resistance was placed the figure of astone lion, in memory of Leonidas, so fitly named the lion-like; andSimonides, at his own expense, erected a pillar to his friend, the seerMegistias-- "The great Megistias' tomb you here may view, Who slew the Medes, fresh from Spercheius fords; Well the wise seer the coming death foreknew, Yet scorn'd he to forsake his Spartan lords. " The names of the 300 were likewise engraven on a pillar at Sparta. Lion, pillars, and inscriptions have all long since passed away, eventhe very spot itself has changed; new soil has been formed, and thereare miles of solid ground between Mount Oeta and the gulf, so that theHot Gates no longer exist. But more enduring than stone or brass--nay, than the very battle-field itself--has been the name of Leonidas. Twothousand three hundred years have sped since he braced himself to perishfor his country's sake in that narrow, marshy coast road, under the browof the wooded crags, with the sea by his side. Since that time how manyhearts have glowed, how many arms have been nerved at the remembrance ofthe Pass of Thermopylae, and the defeat that was worth so much more thana victory! SECTION XII HOME READING LIST AND GENERAL INDEX ". . . Forsooth he cometh unto you with a tale which holdeth children from play, and old men from the chimney corner; and, pretending no more, doth intend the winning of the mind from wickedness to virtue even as the child is often brought to take most wholesome things by hiding them in such others as have a pleasant taste. . . . " --Sir Philip Sidney, _An Apologie for Poetrie_. SECTION XII. HOME READING LIST AND GENERAL INDEX A HOME READING LIST Children are such omnivorous readers that teachers and parents areconstantly at their wit's end, not only in naming enough books to supplytheir demands, but in grouping these books according to the order ofdifficulty. Most public libraries can furnish such lists based upontheir experience with children. In fact no modern public library cancarry on its work successfully without an especially prepared librarianin charge of the books for children. The arrangement of any list bygrades must at best be only approximate, but if done in the light of awide experience may be of the greatest practical help to the youngteacher or to the parent. The following list is one issued by theChicago Public Library, and is used here through the great kindness ofMiss Adah F. Whitcomb, supervisor of the children's room and director ofthe training class. Any well-selected collection for children willcontain a large proportion of these titles, and the list is extendedenough and varied enough to furnish attractive reading material for anyyoung person. At need it may be supplemented by the more elaborate listsfound in some of the guides mentioned in the General Bibliography (p. 2). FIRST GRADE Banta, N. Moore, and Benson, Alpha B. , _Brownie Primer_. Blaisdell, Mary Frances, _Mother Goose Children_. Brooke, Leonard Leslie, _Johnny Crow's Garden_. ----, _Johnny Crow's Party_. Buffum, Katharine G. , _Mother Goose in Silhouettes_. Craik, Georgiana Marion, _So-fat and Mew-mew_. Crane, Walter, _Beauty and the Beast Picture Book_. ----, _Bluebeard's Picture Book_. ----, _Cinderella's Picture Book_. ----, _Goody Two Shoes Picture Book_. ----, _Mother Hubbard, Her Picture Book_. ----, _Red Riding Hood's Picture Book_. ----, _Song of Sixpence_. ----, _This Little Pig, His Picture Book_. ----, _Buckle My Shoe_. Fox, Florence Cornelia, _The Indian Primer_. Gaynor, Mrs. Jessie Love, and Riley, Alice C. D. , _Songs of the Child-World_. Greenaway, Kate, _Under the Window_. Haaren, John Henry, _Rhymes and Fables_. Howard, Frederick Ward, _Banbury Cross Stories_. Lansing, Marion Florence, _The Child's World Garden_. Le Fèvre, Felicité, _The Cock, the Mouse, and the Little Red Hen_. Lucas, Edward Verrall, _Four and Twenty Toilers_. Mother Goose, _The Real Mother Goose_ (illus. By Blanche Fisher Wright). Noyes, Marion, _The Sunshine Primer_. Saxby, Lewis, _Life of a Wooden Doll_. Seton, Ernest Thompson, _Wild Animal Play for Children_. Skinner, A. M. , and Lawrence, L. N. , _Little Dramas for Primary Grades_. Smith, Elmer Boyd, _Chicken World_. Varney, A. S. , _The Robin Reader_. Welsh, Charles, (ed. ), _Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes_. Wiltse, Sara E. , _Folklore Stories and Proverbs_. SECOND GRADE Adelborg, Ottilia, _Clean Peter and the Children of Grubbylea_. Æsopus, _Fables_ (Dalkeith ed. ). Bannerman, Mrs. Helen, _Story of Little Black Sambo_. Bass, Florence, _Nature Stories for Young Readers: Animal Life_. ----, _Nature Stories for Young Readers: Plant Life_. Bryce, Catherine Turner, _Stevenson Reader_. Burgess, Gelett, _Goops, and How to Be Them_. ----, _More Goops, and How Not to Be Them_. Caldecott, Randolph, _Come Lasses Picture Book_. ----, _Hey Diddle Diddle Picture Book_. Coe, Ida, _Story Hour Readers_. Vols. 3, 4. Cooke, Flora J. , _Nature Myths and Stories for Little Children_. Craik, Georgiana Marion, _Bow-wow and Mew-mew_. Crane, Walter, _Baby's Own Æsop_. Deming, Therese Osterheld, _Little Indian Folk_. ----, _Little Red People_. Dodge, Mary Mapes, _Rhymes and Jingles_. Greenaway, Kate, _Marigold Garden_. Haaren, John Henry, _Songs and Stories_. Hix, Melvin, _Once-upon-a-Time Stories_. Ivimey, John William, _Three Blind Mice_. McCullough, Annie Willis, _Little Stories for Little People_. Moore, Annie E. , _Pennies and Plans_. Murray, Clara, _The Child at Play_. Poulsson, Emilie, _The Runaway Donkey and Other Rhymes_. ----, _Through the Farmyard Gate_. Smith, Elmer Boyd, _Farm Book_. ----, _Santa Claus Book_. ----, _Seashore Book_. Smith, Gertrude, _Lovable Tales of Janey and Josey and Joe_. ----, _Roggie and Reggie Stories_. Tileston, Mary Wilder Foote, _Sugar and Spice and All That's Nice_. Tolman, Stella Webster Carroll, _Around the World_, Vol. 1. Turpin, Edna Henry Lee, _Classic Fables_. Weatherly, F. E. , _The Book of Gnomes_. THIRD GRADE Aspinwall, Mrs. Alicia, _Short Stories for Short People_. Bailey, Carolyn Sherwin, _Boys and Girls of Colonial Days_. Brocks, Dorothy, _Red Children_. Brooke, Leonard Leslie, _Golden Goose Book_. Brown, Abbie Farwell, _Christmas Angel_. ----, _Lonesomest Doll_. Browning, Robert, _Pied Piper of Hamelin_ (illus. By Hope Dunlap). Chisholm, Louey, _Nursery Rhymes_. Deming, Mrs. Therese Osterheld, _Children of the Wild_. ----, _Little Brothers of the West_. Dodge, Mrs. Mary Mapes, _New Baby World_. Field, Eugene, _Lullaby-land: Songs of Childhood_. Foulke, Elizabeth E. , _Braided Straws_. ----, _Twilight Stories_. Francis, Joseph Greene, _Book of Cheerful Cats and Other Animated Animals_. Gates, Mrs. Josephine Scribner, _Story of Live Dolls_. Gerson, Virginia, _Happy Heart Family_. Grimm, Jacob L. K. , and Wilhelm, K. , _Fairy Tales_ (Lucas ed. ). ----, _Fairy Tales_ (Wiltse ed. ). Haaren, John Henry, _Fairy Life_. Lang, Andrew, _Prince Darling, and Other Stories_. Lansing, Marion Florence, _Rhymes and Stories_. McMurry, Mrs. Lida Brown, _Classic Stories for the Little Ones_. Morley, Margaret Warner, _Seed-Babies_. Peary, Mrs. Josephine Diebitsch, _Snow Baby_. Perkins, Lucy Fitch, _Dutch Twins_. ----, _Japanese Twins_. Pierson, Clara Dillingham, _Among the Farmyard People_. Pyle, Katharine, _Careless Jane, and Other Tales_. Shute, Katherine H. , _Land of Song_, Vol. 1. Tappan, Eva March, _Dixie Kitten_. ----, _Golden Goose_. Thorne-Thomsen, Mrs. Gudrun, _East o' the Sun_. Trimmer, Mrs. Sarah K. , _History of the Robins_. Valentine, Mrs. Laura Jewry, _Aunt Louisa's Book of Fairy Tales_. Woodward, Alice B. , _Peter Pan Picture Book_. FOURTH GRADE Alden, Raymond Macdonald, _Why the Chimes Rang_. Andersen, Hans Christian, _Fairy Tales_ (Lucas ed. ). Barrie, James Matthew, _Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens_. Brown, Abbie Farwell, _John of the Woods_. Brown, Helen Dawes, _Little Miss Phoebe Gay_. Browne, Frances, _Granny's Wonderful Chair, and Its Tales of Fairy Times_. Campbell, Helen LeRoy, _Story of Konrad, the Swiss Boy_. Carryl, Charles Edward, _Davy and the Goblin_. Craik, Mrs. Dinah Maria, _Adventures of a Brownie_. Crichton, Mrs. F. E. , _Peep-in-the-World_. Drummond, Henry, _Monkey That Would Not Kill_. Faulkner, Georgene, _Italian Fairy Tales_. ----, _Russian Fairy Tales_. Grimm, Jacob L. K. , and Wilhelm K. , _Household Fairy Tales_, tr. By L. Crane. Hopkins, William John, _Sandman: His Farm Stories_. Houghton, Mrs. Louise Seymour, _Russian Grandmother's Wonder Tales_. Ingelow, Jean, _Mopsa the Fairy_. Lang, Andrew, _Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp_. ----, _Nursery Rhyme Book_. ----, _Pretty Goldilocks_. ----, _Snow Man_. ----, _Snow Queen_. Lindsay, Maud, and Poulsson, Emilie, _Joyous Travelers_. Lorenzini, Carlo, _Adventures of Pinocchio_. Lucas, Edward Verrall, _Book of Verses for Children_. Macdonald, George, _Princess and the Goblin_. Morley, Margaret Warner, _Donkey John of Toy Valley_. O'Shea, Michael Vincent, _Old World Wonder Stories_. Paine, Albert Bigelow, _How Mr. Dog Got Even_. ----, _How Mr. Rabbit Lost His Tail_. Peck, Harry Thurston, _Adventures of Mabel_. Pierson, Mrs. Clara Dillingham, _Three Little Millers_. Pyle, Katharine, _As the Goose Flies_. ----, _Christmas Angel_. ----, _Counterpane Fairy_. Richards, Mrs. Laura E. , _Joyous Story of Toto_. ----, _Toto's Merry Winter_. Schwartz, Julia Augusta, _Five Little Strangers_. Scudder, Horace E. , _Book of Fables_. ----, _Book of Folk Stories_. ----, _Children's Book_. Sègur, Sophie R. De, _Story of a Donkey_. Thorne-Thomsen, Mrs. Gudrun, _Birch and the Star_. Walker, Margaret Coulson, _Lady Hollyhock and Her Friends_. Welsh, Charles, _Fairy Tales Children Love_. Wette, A. H. , _Hansel and Gretel_ (illus. In colors). White, Eliza Orne, _When Molly Was Six_. Williston, Teresa Peirce, _Japanese Fairy Tales_. Zwilgmeyer, Dikken, _Johnny Blossom_. FIFTH GRADE Alden, William Livingston, _Cruise of the Canoe Club_. ----, _Cruise of the "Ghost. "_ ----, _Moral Pirates_. Baldwin, James, _Old Greek Stories_. Brown, Abbie Farwell, _In the Days of Giants_. Burnett, Frances Hodgson, _Little Lord Fauntleroy_. Caldwell, Frank, _Wolf, the Storm Leader_. Coburn, Claire Martha, _Our Little Swedish Cousin_. Colum, Padraic, _Boy Who Knew What the Birds Said_. Dodgson, Charles Lutwidge, _Alice in Wonderland_. Duncan, Norman, _Adventures of Billy Topsail_. French, Allen, _Story of Rolf and the Viking's Bow_. Golding, Vautier, _Story of David Livingstone_. Gordy, Wilbur Fisk, _American Leaders and Heroes_. Grinnell, George Bird, _Jack among the Indians_. Hall, Jennie, _Viking Tales_. Jacobs, Joseph, _Celtic Fairy Tales_. ----, _English Fairy Tales_. Jenks, Albert Ernest, _Childhood of Ji-shib, the Ojibway_. Kaler, James Otis, _Mr. Stubbs' Brother_. ----, _Toby Tyler_. Kipling, Rudyard, _Just-So Stories_. Lucas, Edward Verrall, _Book of Verses for Children_. Mabie, Hamilton Wright, _Norse Stories_. Mighels, Philip Verrill, _Sunnyside Tad_. Olcott, Frances Jenkins, _Fairies and Elves_. ----, _Arabian Nights_. Paine, Albert Bigelow, _Arkansaw Bear_. Pendleton, Louis B. , _In the Camp of the Creeks_. Pyle, Howard, _Garden behind the Moon_. ----, _Story of King Arthur and His Knights_. ----, _Wonder Clock_. Pyle, Katharine, _Nancy Rutledge_. Richards, Laura E. , _Captain January_. Schultz, James Willard, _With the Indians in the Rockies_. Seton, Ernest Thompson, _Lives of the Hunted_. Spyri, Mrs. Johanna, _Heidi_. Stockton, Frank R. , _Fanciful Tales_. Stoddard, William Osborn, _Little Smoke_. Tappan, Eva March, _Robin Hood: His Book_. Thackeray, William Makepeace, _Rose and the Ring_. Wesselhoeft, Lily F. , _Sparrow, the Tramp_. Wiggin, Kate Douglas, _Birds' Christmas Carol_. Wiggin, Kate Douglas, and Smith, Nora A. , _Fairy Ring_. Wyss, Johann David, _Swiss Family Robinson_. Zollinger, Gulielma, _Widow O'Callaghan's Boys_. SIXTH GRADE Alcott, Louisa M. , _Eight Cousins_. ----, _Jack and Jill_. Baldwin, James, _Story of the Golden Age_. ----, _Story of Roland_. ----, _Story of Siegfried_. Bennett, John, _Barnaby Lee_. Bond, Alexander Russell, _Pick, Shovel and Pluck_. Bostock, Frank Charles, _Training of Wild Animals_. Brooks, Elbridge Streeter, _Master of the Strong Hearts_. Brooks, Noah, _Boy Emigrants_ (illus. Ed. ). Browne, Belmore, _Quest of the Golden Valley_. Burnett, Mrs. Frances Hodgson, _Little Princess_. Crump, Irving, _Boys' Book of Firemen_. Daviess, Marie Thompson, _Phyllis_. Defoe, Daniel, _Robinson Crusoe_. Dix, Beulah Marie, _Merrylips_. Dodge, Mrs. Mary Mapes, _Hans Brinker_. DuBois, Mary Constance, _Lass of the Silver Sword_. Eggleston, George Cary, _Last of the Flatboats_. Ford, Sewell. _Horses Nine_. French, Allen, _Story of Greltir the Strong_. ----, _Junior Cup_. Greene, Frances N. , and Kirk, Dolly W. , _With Spurs of Gold_. Greene, Homer, _Blind Brother_. Gregor, Elmer Russell, _Red Arrow_. Hamp, Sidford Frederick, _Treasure of Mushroom Rock_. Hawkes, Clarence, _Shaggycoat: the Biography of a Beaver_. Hudson, William Henry, _Little Boy Lost_. Inman, Henry, _Ranche on the Oxhide_. Irving, Washington, _Rip Van Winkle_. Jacobs, Joseph, _Indian Fairy Tales_. Johnston, William Allen, _Deeds of Doing and Daring_. Kipling, Rudyard, _Jungle Book_. Lang, Andrew, _Red True Story Book_. Little, Francis, _Camp Jolly_. Lothrop, Mrs. Harriet Mulford, _Five Little Peppers_. Munroe, Kirk, _Flamingo Feather_. Page, Thomas Nelson, _Two Little Confederates_. Pyle, Katharine, _Theodora_. Rankin, Mrs. Carroll Watson, _Dandelion Cottage_. Roberts, Theodore, _Red Feathers_. Seaman, Augusta Huiell, _Boarded-up House_. Seawell, Molly Elliot, _Little Jarvis_. Seton, Ernest Thompson, _Wild Animals I Have Known_. Stockton, Frank R. , _Bee-Man of Orn_. Stoddard, William Osborn, _Red Mustang_. Swift, Jonathan, _Gulliver's Travels_. Wade, Mrs. Mary Hazelton B. , _Wonder Workers_. Wallace, Dillon, _Arctic Stowaways_. Wesselhoeft, Mrs. Elizabeth Foster, _Jack, the Fire Dog_. SEVENTH GRADE Adams, Joseph Henry, _Harper's Indoor Book for Boys_. _Harper's Outdoor Book for Boys. _ Alcott, Louisa M. , _Jo's Boys_. _Old-fashioned Girl. _ _Under the Lilacs. _ Altsheler, Joseph Alexander, _Forest Runners_. _Free Rangers. _ _Young Trailers. _ Barnes, James, _Hero of Erie: Oliver Hazard Perry_. _Yankee Ships and Yankee Sailors. _ Browne, Belmore, _White Blanket_. Bullen, Frank Thomas, _Cruise of the Cachalot_. Burton, Charles Pierce, _The Boys of Bob's Hill_. Canavan, Michael Joseph, _Ben Comee: a Tale of Roger's Rangers_. Day, Holman Francis, _Eagle Badge_. Deland, Ellen Douglas, _Oakleigh_. Dix, Beulah Marie, _Little Captive Lad_. Dodge, Mrs. Mary Mapes, _Donald and Dorothy_. Drysdale, William, _Beach Patrol_. _Cadet Standish of the "St. Louis. "_ _Fast Mail. _ _Young Supercargo. _ Foa, Eugénie, _Boy Life of Napoleon_. Garland, Hamlin, _Long Trail_. Greene, Homer, _Pickett's Gap_. Grey, Zane, _Young Forester_. _Young Pitcher. _ Grinnell, George Bird, _Jack among the Indians_. _Jack in the Rockies. _ _Jack, the Young Ranchman. _ Hawthorne, Nathaniel, _Grandfather's Chair_. Henley, William Ernest, _Lyra Heroica: Book of Verse for Boys_. Hill, T. , _Fighting a Fire_. Hough, Emerson, _Young Alaskans_. Hughes, Thomas, _Tom Brown's School Days_. Jackson, Mrs. Helen Hunt, _Nellie's Silver Mine_. Jacobs, Caroline Emilia, _Joan's Jolly Vacation_. _Joan of Juniper Inn. _ Kieffer, Henry Martyn, _Recollections of a Drummer-Boy_. Munroe, Kirk, _At War with Pontiac_. _Cab and Caboose. _ Pyle, Howard, _Otto of the Silver Hand_. Quirk, Leslie W. , _Baby Elton, Quarterback_. Roberts, Charles G. D. , _Kindred of the Wild_. Seton, Ernest Thompson, _Two Little Savages_. Stockton, Frank R. , _Buccaneers and Pirates of Our Coast_. Stoddard, William Osborn, _Red Patriot_. _White Cave. _ _Lost Gold of the Montezumas. _ Tolman, Albert Walter, _Jim Spurling, Fisherman_. Tomlinson, Everett Titsworth, _Search for Andrew Field. _ _Three Colonial Boys. _ _Red Chief. _ _Marching against the Iroquois. _ Wiggin, Kate Douglas, _Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm_. Zollinger, Gulielma, _Maggie McLanehan_. EIGHTH GRADE Adams, Andy, _Wells Brothers: the Young Cattle Kings_. Ashmun, Margaret Eliza, _Isabel Carlton's Year_. Barbour, Ralph Henry, _Behind the Line_. _Crimson Sweater. _ Beach, Edward Latimer, _Annapolis First Classman_. Bennett, John, _Master Skylark_. Catherwood, Mary Hartwell, _Story of Tonty_. Cervantes-Saavedra M. De, _Don Quixote_. Clemens, Samuel L. , _Prince and the Pauper_. Coffin, Charles Carleton, _Boys of '76_. Cooper, James Fenimore, _Deerslayer_. Dana, Richard Henry, _Two Years before the Mast_. Doubleday, Russell, _Cattle-Ranch to College_. Driggs, Lawrence La Tourette, _Adventures of Arnold Adair, American Ace_. Duncan, Norman, _Adventures of Billy Topsail_. Eggleston, George Cary, _Bale Marked Circle X_. French, Harry W. , _The Lance of Kanana_. Gilbert, A. , _More than Conquerors_. Gordon, Charles William, _Glengarry School Days_. Goss, Warren Lee, _Jed_. Hamp, Sidford Frederick, _Dale and Fraser, Sheepmen_. Hill, Frederick Trevor, _On the Trail of Grant and Lee_. Homer, _Adventures of Odysseus_. (Colum ed. ). Hughes, Rupert, _Lakerim Athletic Club_. Johnston, Charles Haven L. , _Famous Scouts_. Kipling, Rudyard, _Captains Courageous_. London, Jack, _Call of the Wild_. Macleod, Mary, _Shakespeare Story Book_. Malory, Sir Thomas, _Book of King Arthur and His Noble Knights_. Masefield, John, _Martin Hyde_. Meigs, Cornelia, _Master Simon's Garden_. Moffett, Cleveland, _Careers of Danger and Daring_. Montgomery, Lucy Maud, _Anne of Green Gables_. Nicolay, Helen, _Boys' Life of Abraham Lincoln_. Ollivant, Alfred, _Bob, Son of Battle_. Parkman, Mary, _Heroes of To-day_. Pendleton, Louis B. , _King Tom and the Runaways_. Pyle, Howard, _Men of Iron_. _Story of Jack Ballister's Fortunes_. Rice, Alice Caldwell H. , _Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch_. Richards, Laura E. , _Florence Nightingale_. Richmond, Grace L. , _Round the Corner in Gay Street_. Roberts, Charles G. D. , _Heart of the Ancient Wood_. Rolt-Wheeler, Francis William, _Boy with the U. S. Foresters_. Schultz, James William, _Quest of the Fish-Dog Skin_. Seaman, Augusta Huiell, _Girl Next Door_. Singmaster, Elsie, _Emmeline_. Tappan, Eva March, _In the Days of Queen Elizabeth_. Thompson, Arthur Ripley, _Gold-Seeking on the Dalton Trail_. Thompson, James Maurice, _Alice of Old Vincennes_. Thurston, Ida Treadwell, _Bishop's Shadow_. Trowbridge, John Townsend, _Cudjo's Cave_. Verne, Jules, _Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea_. Verrill, Alpheus Hyatt, _Marooned in the Forest_. Wallace, Dillon, _Wilderness Castaways_. Wallace, Lewis, _Ben Hur_. Waller, Mary Ella, _Daughter of the Rich_. INDEX (A number in blackface type refers to a page on which appears a literaryselection under the title, by the author, or from the book preceding thenumber. Book titles are in italics; selection titles and index topics inroman type; names of authors in capitals and small capitals; and firstlines of nursery rhymes within quotation marks. See Bibliography forauthors and book titles not given in this Index. ) Abou Ben Adhem, =414= "A cat came fiddling out of a barn, " =23= Accumulative story; _See_ Stories ADDISON, J. , =294= "A diller, a dollar, " =23= ADLER, F. , 53, 263 Admetus and the Shepherd, =337= Adventures of Arthur, =598= ÆSOP, =266-268=, =272=, =273-278=, =264= Against Idleness and Mischief, =407= _Age of Fable, The_, =339=, =343=, 338 AIKIN, J. , =451= ALDEN, R. M. , =223= Ali Baba, and the Forty Thieves, =579= _Alice in Wonderland_, 405 Allegory, =292=, =294=. _See also_ Fables Allen-a-Dale, =628= Alnaschar, 279, 579 _Ancient Legends of Ireland_, 164 ANDERSEN, H. C. , =179-203=, 79, 134, 381, 390; appreciation of, 172-173; work of, =179= _Andersen's Best Fairy Tales_, =179=, =181= Androcles, =269= Androcles and the Lion, =270= Anniversary, An, =34= Anxious Leaf, The, =290= Apologue, 290, =291=. _See also_ Fable Apple of Discord, The, 332 _Arabian Nights' Entertainment, The_, =579=, 235, 578, 579 Arab to His Favorite Steed, The, =420= Arthur and Sir Accalon, =603= Arthur, King, =595-603=, 577, 578, 594 ASBJÖRNSEN, P. , =122-128=; work of, 122 "As I was going to St. Ives, " =23= "As I was going up Pippen Hill, " =23= "As I went to Bonner, " =23= Ass in the Lion's Skin, The, =281= "As Tommy Snooks and Bessie Brooks, " =23= "A swarm of bees in May, " =23= Autobiography; _See_ Biography Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin, The, =646= A Was an Apple-Pie, =34= "Baa, baa, black sheep, " =23= Babes in the Wood, The, =39= Baby Bye, =373= BAILEY, C. S. , =59= BAIN, R. N. , =160= Ballad, =425=, =436=, =628=, 437, 628 Ballad of Nathan Hale, The, =425= BARBAULD, A. L. , =451= "Barber, barber, shave a pig, " =23= Battle between the Fox and the Wolf, The, =591= _Bears of Blue River, The_, =500= BEAUMONT, MADAME DE, =110= Beauty and the Beast, =110= BEECHER, H. W. , =290= _Beowulf_, 577 Beth Gêlert, =436= Betty's Ride, A Tale of the Revolution, =496= _Beyond the Pasture Bars_, =520= _Bible, The_, =288=, =289= Bibliography: (_a_). General; 2-4; Bible as literature for children, 3; collections of literature for children, 2; dramatization, 3; guides in teaching, 2-3; historical development, 2; interpretations of childhood, 4; social and psychological backgrounds, 4; story-telling, 3. (_b_). Special; biography and hero stories, 632; fables and symbolic stories, 262; fairy stories, modern fantastic tales, 170; fairy stories, traditional tales, 52; Mother Goose and nursery rhymes, 18; myths, 302; nature literature, 510; poetry, 368; realistic stories, 442; romance and legend, 576. (_c_). Special reading for teachers; biography and hero stories, 634; modern fairy stories, 173; myths, 305; nature literature, 512; nursery rhymes, 22; poetry, 370; romance and legend, 578. (_d_). Graded lists for children, 12-14, =679-686= BIDPAI; history of, 264 Big Bear, The, =500= Biography and hero stories, =635-676=; discussion of, 633-634; selection of, 633-634; value of, 633 Bird Habits, =549= "Birds of a feather flock together, " =23= BLAKE, W. , =400-401= "Bless you, bless you, burnie bee, " =23= Blue Light, The, =134=, 195 Boats Sail on the Rivers, =394= "Bobby Shafto's gone to sea, " =24= _Book of Golden Deeds, The_, =671= _Book of Legends, The_, =620=, 578 _Book of Nursery Rhymes_ =21= _Book of the Dun Cow_, =162= Books for children; _See_ Bibliography Boots and His Brothers, =125= "Bow, wow, wow, " =24= Boyhood of Washington, The, =642= _Boy's Life of Abraham Lincoln, The_, =655= Boy's Song, A, =389= BRAEKSTAD, H. L. , =128= Bramble Is Made King, The, =288= BRANDES, G. , 179, 180, 196, 203 Breathes There the Man, =424= Brier Rose, =142= BROOKS, E. S. , =635= BROWN, T. E. , =418= BROWNE, F. , =210=, =209= BROWNING, R. , =399=, 398 Brown Thrush, The, =374= BRYANT, S. C. , 70 BRYANT, W. C. , =417=, 416 _Buddhist Birth Stories_, =282=, =283=, 281 BULFINCH, T. , =339=, =343= BURGESS, T. W. =515=, 514 Burial of Poor Cock Robin, The, =44= Butterfly's Ball, The, =397= "Bye, baby bunting, " =24= BYRON, LORD, =416= Camel and the Pig, The, =281= CANBY, H. S. , =496= Can You, =398= CARROLL, L. , =405= CARY, P. , =377=, =378= Casabianca, =400= Cat and the Mouse, The, =60= _Celtic Fairy Tales_, =162= CERVANTES-SAAVEDRA, M. DE, =607=, 606 Change About, =49= CHILD, L. M. , =375= _Children's Book, The_, 642 Children's Literature; _See_ Literature _Child's Guide to Reading, A_, =8= Christmas stories, 505 Cinderella, =102= Circus-Day Parade, The, =388= City Mouse and the Garden Mouse, The, =268= _Classic Myths in English Literature and Art_, 340 Cock a Doodle Doo, =37= Cock and the Fox, The, =284= Cock Robin, 42, 44 Cock, the Cat, and the Young Mouse, The, =285= COLE, H. , =586=, =591=, 578 COLERIDGE, S. T. , =178= COLLINS, WM. , =425= COLLINS, W. L. , =285= "Come when you're called, " =24= Concord Hymn, =424= Connla and the Fairy Maiden, =162= COOK, E. , =402= COOLIDGE, S. , =377= _Cossack Fairy Tales_, =160= Country Mouse and the Town Mouse, The, =269= Course of Study, 8, 9, 10, 13-16, 512, 577, 633-634 Courtship of Cock Robin and Jenny Wren, =42= Cow, The, =381= Cow, The, =392= COX, R. , 112 CRAIK, D. M. ; _See_ MULOCK Croesus and Solon, =299= Crossing the Bar, =414= "Cross patch, " =24= Crow and the Pitcher, The, =266= "Curly locks! curly locks!" =24= Daffodils, =419= Dairywoman and the Pot of Milk, The, =278= Daisies, =385= Dame Wiggins of Lee and Her Seven Wonderful Cats, =45=, 245 "Dance, little baby, dance up high, " =24= Darius Green and His Flying Machine, =432=, 336 DASENT, G. W. , =122-125= Day Is Done, The, =410= DAY, T. , =270=, =456=, 270 Death of Balder, The, =360= Destruction of Sennacherib, The, =416= Diamond, or a Coal, A, =394= Didactic period, 443 "Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son John, " =24= "Ding, dong, bell, " =24= Ding Dong! Ding Dong! =372= Discontented Pendulum, The, =297= "Doctor Foster, " =24= _Doctor, The_, =64= DODGSON, C. L. ; _See_ CARROLL, L. Dog and the Shadow, The, =276= _Don Quixote_, =607-618=, 577 DOYLE, F. H. , =427= Drakestail, =107= Dramatization, 11-12, 190 Droll, or noodle story, =63=, =71=, =150=; defined, 67 Duel, The, =387= DULCKEN, H. W. , =190-203=, 179 EDGEWORTH, M. , =459=, 458 Egg in the Nest, The, =49= "Eggs, butter, cheese, bread, " =24= Eldorado, =415= Elves and the Shoemaker, The, =137= Emerald Is as Green as Grass, An, =394= EMERSON, R. W. , =424=, 423 Emperor's New Clothes, The, =181= _English Fairy and Folk Tales_, =67=, =84= _English Fairy Tales_, =58=, 61, 73 _Evenings at Home_, =451= EWING, J. H. , =478=, 381, 477 Eyes, and No Eyes, =451= Fables, =266-289=; discussion of, 263-265; defined =264=; presentation of, 264-265; selection of, 264, 284; use in school, =264=; symbolistic and allegorical stories, =290-300=; Æsopic, =266 ff. =; Biblical, =288 ff. =; Buddhistic, =281 ff. =; English, =270=, =286=; French, =273=, =278=, =284=, =285=; Indian, =281=; Roman, =269=; Russian, =287=; Sanskrit, =283=; Spanish, =287= _Fables of Æsop, The_, =266=, =267=, =269=, =278= _Fairy Book, The_, =73=, =80= Fairy Scene in a Wood, A, =423= Fairy stories: (_a_) Modern fantastic tales, =174-260=; discussion of, 171-173; some qualities of, 172. (_b_) Traditional or folk tales, =56-168=; discussion of, 53-55, 56; how to use, 55; vs. Myths, =303=; English, =56-92=; French, =92-122=; Gaelic, =162-164=; German, =131-150=; Indian, =150-156=; Irish, =164-168=; Japanese, =156-159=; Norse, =122-131=; Russian, =160-162= Falcon, The, =429= Famous Passages from Dr. Watts, =408= _Fanciful Tales_, =234= Farmer Went Trotting, A, =38= FIELD, E. , =385-387= FIELD, W. T. , 21 Field Mouse and the Town Mouse, The, =268= Fir Tree, The, =190= Fisherman and His Wife, The, =138= Flying Kite, =385= Folklore, 5, 10, 53, 56, 131, 171, 268, 281. _See also_ Fables, Fairy Stories, Myths, Poetry, and Romance Folk tales; _See_ Fairy stories FOLLEN, E. L. , =371-372= FORD, S. , =527= "For every evil under the sun, " =24= For Those Who Fail, =415= For Want of a Nail, =40= "Four-and-twenty tailors, " =25= Four Leaved Clover, A, =174= _Four Million, The_, =505= Fox and His Wife, The, =40= Fox and the Grapes, The, =276= FRANCE, MARIE DE, =284= FRANCILLON, R. E. , =330=, =332= FRANKLIN, B. , =250=, =291=, =293=, =646=, 263 FRERE, M. , =152=, 150 Frey, =354= Frog and the Ox, The, =267= Frogs Desiring a King, The, =267= GAY, J. , =286= GAYLEY, C. M. , =340= _George Washington_, =642= Gift of the Magi, The, =505= GILBERT, W. S. , =430= _Gods and Heroes_, =330=, =332= GOLDSMITH, O. , 19, =445=; work of, 445 Good-Natured Little Boy, The, =456= Good-Night and Good-Morning, =396= Good Play, A, =382= Good Samaritan, The, =289= Goody Two-Shoes, =445= Goose with the Golden Eggs, The, =272= GOSSE, E. , 381, 477 Grading; _See_ Course of study _Granny's Wonderful Chair_, =209= Grasshopper and the Ant, The, =285= "Great A, little a, " =25= _Green Fairy Book_, 73 GRIMM, JACOB and WILHELM, =132-146=, 89; work of, 131 _Grimm's Popular Stories_, =132-142= HALE, S. J. , =373=, 372 HALLIWELL, J. O. , =23 ff. =, =60-63=, 70-71, 20, 47, 59; work of, 56 Happy Prince, The, =217= Hardy Tin Soldier, The, =200= Hare and the Tortoise, The, =273= Hare with Many Friends, The, =286= "Hark, hark, " =25= HARRIS, J. C. , 511 HARRISON, I. H. , =288= HARTLAND, E. S. , =67=, =84=, 89 HAVELL, H. L. , =607-618= HAWTHORNE, N. , =309=, =319=, 336; work of, 309 _Hebrew Tales_, 177 HEMANS, F. D. , =400= HENDERSON, A. C. , =179= HENLEY, W. E. , =429= Henny-Penny, =58= HENRY, O. , =505= Hen with the Golden Eggs, The, =273= "Here sits the Lord Mayor, " =25= "Here we go up, up, up, " =25= _Heroes of Asgard, The_, =354= Hero stories; _See_ Romance "Hey! diddle, diddle, " =25= "Hickery, dickery, 6 and 7, " =25= "Hickory, dickory, dock, " =25= "Higgledy, Piggledy, " =25= _History of Sandford and Merton_, =270=, =456= _Hitopadesa_, =283= HOGG, J. , =389= "Hogs in the garden, catch 'em Towser, " =25= _Hollow Tree Nights and Days_, =516= HOLMES, O. W. , =425=, 419, 424 HORACE, =269=, 268 Horned Women, The, =164= _Horses Nine_, =527= "Hot-cross buns, " =26= _Household Tales_; _See Kinder und Hausmärchen_ House that Jack Built, This is the, =48=; origin of, 47 How Arthur Became King, =595= How Bruin the Bear Sped with Reynard the Fox, =586= How Columbus Got His Ships, =635= HOWITT, M. , =390=, 179 HOWITT, W. , =391= How Sleep the Brave, =425= How the Fenris Wolf Was Chained, =351= How the Leaves Came Down, =377= "Hub a dub dub, " =26= "Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, " =26= HUNT, L. , =414= HUNT, M. , =144=, =146=, 132, 138 HURWITZ, H. , 177 Husband Who Was To Mind the House, The, =124= Icarus and Daedalus, =336= "If all the sea were one sea, " =26= "If all the world was apple-pie, " =26= "If I'd as much money, " =26= "If ifs and ands, " =26= "If wishes were horses, " =26= "I had a little hobby horse, " =26= "I had a little pony, " =26= "I have a little sister, " =27= I Like Little Pussy, =393= "I'll tell you a story, " =27= Inchcape Rock, The, =421= _Indian Fairy Tales_, =154= _Indian Folk Stories and Fables_, 281, 280 INGELOW, J. , =227= "In marble walls as white as milk, " =27= _Insect Stories_, =524= In the Western Wilderness, =662= Invictus, =429= _Irish Fairy Tales_, =166= ISAACS, A. S. , =174= I Saw a Ship, =36= "I went up one pair of stairs, " =27= Jackanapes, =478=, 477 "Jack and Jill went up the hill, " =27= Jack and the Beanstalk, =73= "Jack be nimble, " =27= "Jack Sprat could eat no fat, " =27= JACOBS, J. , =89=, =154=, =162=, =266=, =267=, =269=, =278=, 73, 586; work of, 58 _Japanese Fairy Tales_, =156=, =158= _Jataka Tales_; _See Buddhistic Birth Stories_ Jemima, =41= Johnny Chuck Finds the Best Thing in the World, =515= JORDAN, D. S. , =556= _Just-So Stories_, 562 KEARY, A. And E. , =354= KELLOGG, V. L. , =524= Kid and the Wolf, The, =276= Kinder und Hausmärchen, =132-146=, 131 King Arthur; _See_ Arthur King Arthur and His Knights, =603= King Bell, =385= King John and the Bishop of Canterbury, =437= King of the Golden River, The, =245= King O'Toole and His Goose, =166= KINGSCOTE, MRS. , =154= _Kings in Exile_, =566= KINGSLEY, C. , =412= KIPLING, R. , =428=, =562=, 122 Knights of the Silver Shield, The, =223= "Knock at the door, " =27= KREADY, L. F. , 97, 190 KRYLOV, I. A. , =288=, 287 KUPFER, G. H. , =306= "Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home, " =27= LA FONTAINE, J. DE, =273=, =278=, =284=, =285=, 272 _La Fontaine and Other French Fabulists_, =285= Lamb, The, =401= LAMB, C. , 444 Lambikin, The, =150= Lamplighter, The, =382= Land of Nod, The, =382= Land of Story-Books, The, =382= LANG, A. , =94=, =106=, 20, 21, 49, 61, 73, 93, 100 LARCOM, L. , =374= Lark and Her Young Ones, The, =275= Last Bull, =566= Lazy Jack, =70= Leak in the Dyke, The, =378= LEAR, E. , =403-404= Legend; _See_ Romance _Le Morte D'Arthur_, =595-598=, 594 Library; improvement of, =10= Lincoln's Early Days, =655= Lion and the Mouse, The, =266= Lion Tricked by a Rabbit, A, =283= Literature for children; general discussion of, 5-16; artistic worth of, 7, 9, 19, 444; course of study in, 13-16, 633-634; cultural value of, 9, 19, 264, 577, 633; democratic origin of, 7, 20; didactic, 443; kinds, traditional vs. Modern, 7, 171-172; presentation of, 8, 9, 10, 11, 14, 55, 173, 265, 369, 443, 511, 633; purpose of, 9, 21, 443, 511; selection of, 9, 264, 305, 369, 370; vs. Reading, 8-9. _See also_ Poetry, Stories, etc. Little and Great, =399= Little Bo-Peep, =37= "Little boy blue, " =27= "Little girl, little girl, " =27= Little Golden Hood, True History of, =94= "Little Jack Horner, " =28= "Little Jack Jingle, " =28= "Little Johnny Pringle had a little pig, " =28= Little Kitty, The, =372= "Little Miss Muffet, " =28= "Little Nancy Etticoat, " =28= Little Red Riding-Hood, =93= "Little Robin Redbreast, " =28= "Little Tommy Tucker, " =28= LOCKE, J. , 265 London Bridge, =36= LONGFELLOW, H. W. , =408-411=, 415, 620 "Long legs, crooked thighs, " =28= Lord Helpeth Man and Beast, The, =178= LOVER, S. , =165= LOWELL, J. R. , =429=, =430= "Lucy Locket lost her pocket, " =28= MABIE, H. W. , =348=, =360=, 348 MACCLINTOCK, P. L. , 21 MACKAY, C. , =399= MACY, J. , 8 MAJOR, C. , =500= MALORY, SIR T. , =595-598=, 578, 594 Man and the Satyr, The, =276= Man of Words, A, =40= MARELLES, C. , =94=, =106= Mary Had a Little Lamb, =373= "Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, " =28= Meddlesome Mattie, =393= Mediaeval stories; _See_ Romance Memorizing, 370 Mercury and the Woodman, =276= Mice in Council, The, =277= Midas, =339= Milking Time, =394= Milkmaid and Her Pail, The, =278= Milkweed Seeds, =34= Miller, His Son, and the Ass, The, =274= MILLER, J. , =415= MILLER, O. T. , =549=, 548 MILNES, R. M. , =396= Miraculous Pitcher, The, =319= Mirror of Matsuyama, The, =156= "Mistress Mary, quite contrary, " =28= MOE, J. ; _See_ ASBJÖRNSEN Molly and I, =35= Moon, The, =371= Mother Goose, 7, 10, 19-22, 93, 171, 370; history of, 19-21. _See also_ Poetry, traditional _Mother Goose's Melody_, 19, 20, 445 Mother Hubbard and Her Dog, =41= Moti Guj--Mutineer, =562= Moufflou, =535= Mountain and the Squirrel, The, =424= Mountebank and the Countryman, The, =277= Mr. 'Possum's Sick Spell, =516= Mr. Vinegar, The Story of, =71= MULOCK, MISS, =73=, =80= "Multiplication is vexation, " =28= Musical Ass, The, =287= My Bed Is a Boat, =383= My Garden, =418= My Shadow, =383= Myths, =306-366=; discussion of, 303-305; definition of, 303; objections to, 304; use in school, 305; value of, 304; Greek and Roman, =306-343=; explanatory introduction to, 306; Norse, =343-366=; explanatory introduction to, 343, 348, 360 Narcissus, The, =330= Nathan Hale, The Ballad of, =425= Nature literature, =513-574=; discussion of, 511-512; place in the grades, 13, 512; some types of, 511-512; what it is, 511 "Needles and pins, needles and pins, " =29= NEWBERY, J. , 19, 20, 445 NICOLAY, H. , =655= Nightingale, The, =184= Noodle story; _See_ Droll _Norse Stories_, =348=, =360= NORTON, C. E. , =420= Nursery rhymes; _See_ Poetry _Nursery Rhymes and Tales_, =59-63=, 56, 71 _Nursery Rhymes of England_, 20 _Odyssey, The_, 577 _Old Deccan Days_, =152=, 150, 151 _Old Greek Folk Stories_, =335=, =337= Old Ironsides, =425= "Old King Cole, " =29= Old Man and His Sons, The, =275= _Old Mother West Wind_, =515= Old Pipes and the Dryad, =234= Old Woman and Her Pig, The, =56= "Once I saw a little bird, " =29= "One for the money, " =29= "One misty, moisty morning, " =29= "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, " =29= "One, two, " =29= OUIDA, =535=, 534 Over Hill, Over Dale, =423= Owl and the Pussy-Cat, The, =403= PAINE, A. B. , =516= Pandora's Box, 309 Parables, =289=; defined, 289 Paradise of Children, The, =309= PARENT'S ASSISTANT, THE, =459= Pass of Thermopylae, The, =671= "Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, " =29= PEABODY, J. P. , =336=, =337=, 335 "Pease-porridge hot, " =29= Peddler's Caravan, The, =395= PERRAULT, C. =93=, =97=, =100=, =102=, 19; work of, 92 "Peter, Peter, pumpkin-eater, " =30= "Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, " =30= _Peter Rabbit Books_, =513= Phaëthon, =340= Piper, The, =401= Pippa's Song, =399= Planting of the Apple-Tree, The, =417= Poacher and the Silver Fox, The, =551= Pobble Who Has No Toes, The, =404= POE, E. A. , =415= Poetry: (_a_) modern, =371-437=; discussion of, 369-370; reading of, 14, 370; selection of, 14, 369; teaching of, 9, 14, 369; (_b_) traditional, or nursery rhymes, =23-50=; discussion of, 19-22; appeal to children, 7, 10, 19, 21, 34; history of, 19-22. _See also_ Mother Goose, Literature, and Course of study Poet's Song, The, =413= "Poor old Robinson Crusoe, " =30= _Popular Tales from the Norse_, =123-125=, 122 PORTER, W. S. , _See_ HENRY POTTER, B. , =513= Pourquoi story, 172 PRENTISS, E. , =372= Pride Goeth before a Fall, =154= Prince's Dream, The, =227= Prodigal Son, The, =289= Proserpine, 354. _See also_ Story of the Springtime Proud King, The, =620= Psalm of Life, The, =411= Puss-in-Boots, =97= "Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, " =30= "Pussy sits beside the fire, " =30= Quern at the Bottom of the Sea, The, =129= Raggedy Man, The, =389= Rain, =381= RAMASWAMI RAJU, P. V. , =281=, 280 RAMÉE, L. DE LA; _See_ OUIDA RANDS, W. B. , =395=, =396= Reading; distinguished from literature, 8-9; lists for various grades, (_See_ Course of study); of literature, 14, 369-370; supplemental, 10 Realistic Stories, =445-508=; discussion of, 443-444; Christmas, 505; didactic or 18th century, =445-459=, 443-444; modern, =478-508=, 444; Sunday-school, 443 Real Princess, The, =179= Recessional, =428= _Red Fairy Book_, =94=, =106= Red Thread of Honor, The, =427= _Renowned History of Little Goody Two-Shoes, The_, =445=, 443, 444 REPPLIER, A. , 54 Reynard the Fox, =586=, =591=, 284, 577 Rhymes; _See_ Poetry RHYS-DAVIDS, T. W. , =281=, =282= "Ride a cock-horse, " =30= "Ride, baby, ride, " =30= RILEY, J. W. , =388-389= ROBERTS, C. G. D. , =566= Robin and the Merry Little Old Woman, =623= Robin Hood, =623=, =628= _Robin Hood: His Book_, =623= "Rock-a-bye, baby, " =30= "Rock-a-bye, baby, thy cradle is green, " =30= Romance and Legend, =579-630=; discussion of, 577-578; stories and versions recommended, 577-578; use in school, 577 ROSCOE, W. , =397= Rose-Bud, =142= ROSSETTI, C. G. , =268=, =394= ROUSSEAU, J. J. , 264, 284, 443 R. S. , GENT, =97=, 93 Rumpelstiltskin, =144= Runaway Brook, The, =372= RUSKIN, J. , =45=, =245=; work of, 245 SAINTSBURY, G. E. B. , =21=, =22= Sands of Dee, The, =412= _Science Sketches_, =556= SCOTT, SIR W. , =424= SCUDDER, H. E. , =620=, =642=, 578; work of, 642 "See a pin and pick it up, " =30= SEEGMILLER, W. , =34= "See, saw, sacradown, " =31= Seldom or Never, =394= SETON, E. T. , =551= SHAKESPEARE, W. , =423= SHARP, D. L. , =520= SHAW, A. H. , =662= Shepherd of King Admetus, The, =430= Shepherd's Boy, The, =266=, 11-12 Shepherd, The, =401= SHERMAN, F. D. , =384-385= "Shoe the little horse, " =31= Simple Simon, =38= "Sing a song of sixpence, " =31= _Sing-Song_, =394= SKEAT, W. W. , =284= Skeleton in Armor, The, =408= Snow-White and Rose-Red, =146= Solitary Reaper, The, =419= _Songs of Innocence_, =400= SOUTHEY, R. , =421= SPENCER, W. R. , =436= Spider and the Fly, The, =390= Spinning Top, =384= "Star light, star bright, " =31= Star, The, =394= STEEL, F. A. , =150=, 153 STEVENSON, R. L. , =381-384=, 380 STOCKTON, F. R. , =234=, 233 Stories; dramatization of, 11-12; selection of, 9, 10, 264, 284-285, 305, 577, 633; accumulative, 47, 56, 150, 160; biographical, =635-676=; Christmas, 505; didactic, 443; fable, =266-289=; fairy, =56-168=, =174-260=; hero, (_See_ biographical); legend, (_See_ romance); myth, =306-366=; nature, =513-574=; noodle, 67; pourquoi, 172; realistic, =445-508=; romance, =579-630=; _See also_ Story-telling. _Stories and Legends of the Irish Peasantry_, =165= _Stories from Don Quixote_, =607-618= _Stories from the Rabbis_, =174= _Stories of Long Ago_, =306= _Stories of Norse Heroes_, =351= _Stories Told to a Child_, =228= Story of Alnaschar, The, =279= _Story of a Pioneer, The_, =662= Story of a Salmon, The, =556= Story of Fairyfoot, The, =210= Story of Mr. Vinegar, The, =71= Story of the Springtime, A, =306= Story-telling, 9, 55; discussion of, 10-11; Andersen's method of, 173; direct discourse in, 11; effectiveness of, 10; of fables, 265; preparation for, 11; selections for, 10; tense in, 10 Strange Wild Song, A, =406= Straw Ox, The, =160= Sugar-Plum Tree, The, =386= Supplemental reading, 10. _See also_ Course of study Swallow and the Raven, The, =229= Swallow, The, =394= Swan, the Pike, and the Crab, The, =288= Sweet and Low, =413= Swing, The, =383= Symbolic stories; _See_ Fables Table and the Chair, The, =404= Taffy, =38= Tale of Peter Rabbit, The, =513= _Tales from the Punjab_, =150=, =153= _Tales of Our Mother Goose, The_, =93=, =97-102=, 19, 92-93 Tales of the Sun, =154= Talkative Tortoise, The, =282= TAPPAN, E. M. , =623= TAYLOR, A. , =392=, =393= TAYLOR, E. , =132-142=, 131 TAYLOR, J. , =297=, =393=, =394= Teeny-Tiny, =60= TENNYSON, A. , =413-414=, 628 Thanksgiving Day, =375= "The King of France went up the hill, " =31= "The lion and the unicorn, " =31= "The man in the moon, " =31= "The north wind doth blow, " =31= "The Queen of Hearts, " =31= "There was a crooked man, " 31 "There was a little boy, " =32= There Was a Little Man, =37= "There was a little man and he had naught, " =32= "There was a man in our town, " =32= "There was an old man, " =32= There was an Old Woman, =36= "There was an old woman, " =32= "There was an old woman lived under a hill, " =32= "There was an old woman of Leeds, " =32= "There was an old woman of Norwich, " =32= "There was an old woman tossed up in a basket, " =32= "There was an old woman who lived in a shoe, " =33= "There was an owl lived in an oak, " =33= They Didn't Think, =377= "This is the way the ladies ride, " 33 "This little pig went to market, " =33= THOMPSON, E. S. , _See_ SETON Thor's Visit to Jötunheim, =343= Three Bears, Story of the, =65= Three Billy-Goats Gruff, The, =123= "Three blind mice! see, how they run, " =33= Three Fishers, The, =412= Three Jovial Huntsmen, =37= Three Little Kittens, The, =371= Three Little Pigs, Story of the, =61= Three Sillies, The, =67= Three Things to Remember, =400= "Three wise men of Gotham, " =33= Tiger, The, =401= Tiger, the Brahman, and the Jackal, The, =153= TILTON, T. , =373= Time to Rise, =381= Tit for Tat, =152= Titty Mouse and Tatty Mouse, =63= Toads and Diamonds, =100= To a Waterfowl, =417= TOLSTOI, L. , =299= "To market, to market, " =33= Tom the Piper's Son, =38= Tom Thumb, =80= Tom Thumb's Alphabet, =35= Tom Tit Tot, =90=, 144 "Tom, Tom, the piper's son, " =33= Tongue-Cut Sparrow, The, =158= Toy-books, =41= Travelers and the Bear, The, =274= Traveling Musicians, The, =132= _Treasure Island_, 381 Treasures of the Wise Man, The, =388= TROWBRIDGE, J. T. , =432= True History of Little Golden Hood, =94= _True Story of Christopher Columbus_, =635= Try Again, =402= Twink! Twink! =34= "Two-legs sat upon three-legs", =33= Ugly Duckling, The, =203= Vendetta, The, =524= VILLENEUVE, MADAME DE, =110= Vision of Mirzah, The, =294= Walrus and the Carpenter, The, =405= WARREN, M. R. , =603= Waste Not, Want Not, =459= WATTS, I. , =407=, =408= WELSH, C. , 21, 445 What Does Little Birdie Say, =413= "When a twister a-twisting", =34= When I Was a Little Boy, =38= Where Are You Going, =35= Where Go the Boats, =384= Whistle, The, =291= Whittington and His Cat, =84= Who Has Seen the Wind, =394= Whole Duty of Children, =381= Who Stole the Bird's Nest, =375= Why the Bear Is Stumpy-Tailed, =122= _Why the Chimes Rang_, =223= Why the Sea Is Salt, 128 Widow and the Hen, The, =276= _Wild Animals at Home_, =551= WILDE, LADY, =164= WILDE, O. , =217= Wild Life in the Farm-Yard, =520= WILLISTON, T. P. , =156=, =158= "Willy boy, Willy boy, " =34= WILMOT-BUXTON, E. M. , =351= Wind and the Sun, The, =272= Wind in a Frolic, The, =391= Wind, The, =384= Windy Nights, =384= Wolf in Sheep's Clothing, The, =273= _Wonder Book for Girls and Boys, A_, =309=, =319= Wonderful World, The, =396= WOOLSEY, S. C. ; _See_ COOLIDGE WORDSWORTH, W. , =419= WRIGHT, E. , =273=, =278=, =284= Wyche, R. T. , 577 Wynken, Blynken, and Nod, =385= Yarn of the Nancy Bell, The, =430= YEATS, W. B. , =166= YONGE, C. M. , =671= YRIARTE, T. De, =287= * * * * * Transcriber's Notes: Obvious punctuation errors repaired. In this text the oe-ligature isrepresented by brackets [oe]. Bold text is represented by = and italicby _. In addition, the text used / as punctuation in one story. Page vi, "Rocky" changed to "Rock" (83. Rock-a-bye) Page x, "Gelert" changed to "Gêlert" (Beth Gêlert) Page 2, "Literatary" changed to "Literary" (Literary Taste and) Page 19, "withold" changed to "withhold" (do not withhold Mother) Page 155, "Ta, tai tom" changed to "Tâ, tai tôm" (Tâ, tai tôm, tadingana) Page 180, "Emporer's" changed to "Emperor's" (The Emperor's New) Page 202, "warrier" changed to "warrior" (thou warrior brave) Page 236, "Dyrad" changed to "Dryad" (beautiful Dryad stepped) Page 299, "wordly" changed to "worldly" (worldly greatness; Solon) Page 302, "Column" changed to "Colum" (Colum, Padraic, _The Children ofOdin_. ) Page 437, "Lleweylln's" changed to "Llewellyn's" (Llewellyn's sorrowproved) Page 448, "be" changed to "he" (Though ill, he began) Footnote: Page 482 originally, added [Author's Note. ] to conform to restof text. Footnote begins: (The Mail Coach it was) Page 487, "hair-dressser" changed to "hair-dresser" (for thehair-dresser) Page 498, "hurridly" changed to "hurriedly" (hurriedly. "Go quickly) Page 510, "Thorton" changed to "Thornton" (Burgess, Thornton W. ) Page 521, word "a" moved up from the end of the line below. Originalread: So, if you will watch, you shall see real wild turkey in the tamest old a Page 578, "it" changed to "in" (in its lofty spirit) Page 662, "Misisssippi" changed to "Mississippi" (lower Mississippi, where) Page 663, "unwildy" changed to "unwieldy" (the unwieldy vehicle) Page 687, "a" changed to "the" (Breathes There the Man) Page 682, "Segur" changed to "Sègur" (Sègur, Sophie R. De) Page 688, small-caps were added to Mulock to conform to rest of theindex.