My First Cruise, and other stories, by W. H. G. Kingston. 

________________________________________________________________________

There are four stories here, but it is not clear whether they are all byKingston. The first one, which gives the book its name, certainly is, and possibly the third, "The Enchanted Gate". 

The first story is a sort of diary or blog written by a young midshipmanon his first voyage to sea, to his brother who was still at school. There are all the usual incidents, including swimming exercises. 

The other stories are well outside the Kingston style, but are certainlyamusing and worth reading. The book is quite short. 

________________________________________________________________________MY FIRST CRUISE, AND OTHER STORIES, BY W. H. G. KINGSTON. 

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 1. 

NOTES FROM PRINGLE RUSHFORTH'S SEA LOG. 

A LETTER TO BROTHER HARRY, AT ETON. 

It has become a reality, dear Harry. I feel very strange--a curioussensation in the throat, just as if I was going to cry, and yet it isexactly what I have been longing for. You know better than any one howI had set my heart on going to sea, and yet I thought that I shouldnever manage it. But, after all, here I am, really and truly amidshipman; at least a volunteer of the first class, as we are callednow. The first time I put on my uniform, with my gold-band cap anddirk, I could not help every now and then looking at the gold lace on mycollar and the buttons with the anchor and crown, and very pretty andnice they looked; and I do believe that this half-reconciled poor mamma, and Fanny, and Mary, and dear little Emily to my going when they saw mewith them on. I'll tell you how it all happened. Uncle Tom came tostay with us. He had been at the Hall a week when, the very day beforeI was to go back to school, while we were all at breakfast, he got along official-looking letter. No sooner had he torn it open and glancedat its contents, than he jumped up and shook papa by the hand, thenkissed mamma, exclaiming, "They do acknowledge my services, and in ahandsome way too, and they have appointed me to the Juno intended forthe South American station; the very ship I should have chosen! I musthave Pringle with me. No nonsense, Mary. He wants to be a sailor, anda sailor he shall be. He's well fitted for it. I'll have no denial. It's settled--that's all right. " (I had been telling him the day beforehow much I wanted to go to sea. ) He carried his point, and set all thehousehold preparing my kit, and then posted off for London, and rattleddown to Portsmouth to hoist his flag. He is not a man to do things byhalves. In three days I followed him. The ship was nearly ready forsea. Most of the officers had joined. There was only one vacancy, which I got. Another captain had been appointed, who had beensuperseded, and he had selected most of the officers. Many of mymessmates are good fellows, but of others the less said about them thebetter, at least as far as I could judge from the way they behaved whenI first went into the berth. We carry thirty-six guns. There is themain deck, on which most of them are placed, and the upper deck, whichis open to the sky, and where all the ropes lead, and where some gunsare, and the lower deck, where we sleep in hammocks slung to the beams, and where our berth is; that is the place where we live--ourdrawing-room, and parlour, and study, and anything else you please. There is a table in the centre, and lockers all round, and if you wantto move about you have to get behind the other fellows' backs or overthe table. Under it are cases and hampers of all sorts, which thecaterer has not unpacked. He is an old mate, and keeps us all in order. His name is Gregson. I don't know whether I shall like him. He hasbeen a great many years a midshipman; for a mate is only a passedmidshipman who wants to be a lieutenant, but can't. He has nointerest--nobody to help him on--so there he is growling and grumblingfrom morning to night, declaring that he'll cut the service, and go andjoin the Russians, and make his country rue the day; but he doesn't, andI believe he wouldn't, if they would make him an admiral and a countoff-hand. My chief friend they call Dicky Snookes. His real name, though, is Algernon Godolphin Stafford, on which he rather prideshimself. This was found out, so it was voted that he should bere-christened, and not be allowed under dreadful pains and penalties toassume his proper appellation in the berth; so no one thinks of callinghim anything but Snookes. He is getting not to mind it, which I am gladof, as he does not seem a bad fellow, and is up to fun of all sorts. There is another fellow who is always called Lord Jones or My Lord, because he is as unlike what you would suppose a nobleman to be aspossible. Then there is Polly. His real name is Skeffington Scoulding, which was voted too long, so, as poor fellow he has lost an eye, he wasdubbed Polyphemus, which was soon turned into Polly. I haven't got anew name yet, so I hope to stick to my own. I have picked up a goodmany more bits of information during the three days I have been onboard, but I have not time to tell them now. I will though, don't fear. I hope to be put in a watch when we get to sea. I don't mean inside asilver case, to go on tick!--ha!--ha!--ha! but to keep watch under alieutenant, to see what the ship is about, and to keep her out ofscrapes. Good-bye, dear old fellow, I'll tell you more when I can. --Your affect brother, Pringle Rushforth. 

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 2. 

NOTES FROM MY LOG. 

The capstern went round with a merry tune--the boatswain's whistlesounded shrilly along the decks with a magic effect--the anchor was hoveup--the sails were let fall and but a few minutes had passed, after thecaptain gave the word of command, before the ship, under a wide spreadof snowy canvas, was standing down the Solent towards the Needlepassage. It was a lovely summer's day, the sky was blue and so was thewater, and the land looked green and bright, and the paint was so fresh, and the deck so white, and the officers in their glittering uniform hadso polished an appearance, and the men in their white trousers andshirts with worked collars and natty hats, looked so neat and active asthey sprang nimbly aloft, or flew about the decks, that I felt veryproud of the frigate and everything about her, and very glad that I hadcome to sea. To be sure matters below were not quite in the same orderjust then. Still prouder was I when we saluted the Queen, who was atOsborne--firing away first on one side and then on the other, with aflash and a roar, and a huge puff of smoke. We passed out at theNeedles with the cheese-like castle of Hurst and its red ninepin-lookinglighthouses on our right, and a little further to the west on our rightwith the high cliffs of Alum Bay striped curiously with coloured sandand three high-pointed rocks, wading out into the sea, as if wanting toget across to the north shore. These are the Needle rocks. We had runthe high white cliff at the west end of the island out of sight beforedark, and that, except a thin blue tint of land away to the north-east, was the last I saw of the shores of dear old happy England. I daresayothers felt as I did, but we all had so much to do that we hadn't timeto talk about it. Dickey Snookes had been to sea already for a fewmonths, and of course knew a great deal more than I could--at least hesaid that he did, and on the strength of it offered to tell me all abouteverything. I thought I saw a twinkle in his eye, but his eyes alwaysare twinkling, so I did not suspect him of intending mischief. We hadsome vegetables for dinner--some carrots and turnips--and he asked me ifI knew where they grew? I said in some garden, I supposed. "Of course, young 'un, " he answered. But you wouldn't suppose we had a garden up inour foretop, where we grow all sorts of greens and other things. Youhave not found your way there, I suspect. I told him that I had not, and he said that I must go up there that very afternoon with him, andthat he would introduce me to the head-gardener, who was always up therelooking after the gooseberry bushes. I knew that this was a joke, butstill I wanted to see what he meant. I said that I was ready at once, but he kept putting me off; and whenever he saw me going up the rigginghe always got some one to send for me or to call me, so that it wasquite late in the day before I succeeded in getting into the shrouds. The sun had now gone down, the sky was overcast, and the sea had aleaden gloomy look--there was a swell also, and the ship rolled so muchfrom side to side, that, as I looked up and saw the mastheads formingarches in the sky, I could not help fancying that I should be sent offwhen I got up there like a stone from a sling, or an ancient catapult, right into the water. The idea made me hold on very tight, let me tellyou; yet, as it would never do to give it up, on I went with my teethpretty closely clenched, and my eyes fixed on the top, which seemed togrow farther and farther away from me, like Jack's bean-stalk. At lastI got up just under the top. There are two ways of getting on to it. One is by going along some ropes, called the futtock shrouds, when onehangs very much as a fly does crawling along the ceiling. I didn't likeit, being up there all alone in the gloom, for it was very different toclimbing an apple-tree or the oak-tree at the bottom of the lawn, withour nest on the top of it, where you and I used to sit and smoke canecigars, and fancy ourselves Istelson and Collingwood. It wasn'tpleasant going along the futtock shrouds, and still less getting roundthem outside into the top, for as the ship rolled it felt as if the mastwas coming right down on the top of me. I waited, however, holding onas a cat does to a bough when you shake it, till the ship rolled overthe other way, and then up I sprang easily enough, and there I sawDickey Snookes and Polly and My Lord all standing by the side of thecaptain of the top, and grinning from ear to ear, as if they had somevery good joke in hand. At first I thought that the captain of the topwas a very important person, but I soon found that he was only one ofthe seamen who is more active and smarter than the rest, and takescommand of those aloft. "Here comes Midshipman Green, " they allexclaimed, as they saw my head appearing between the topmast shrouds. When I stood in the top they all insisted on shaking hands with me, pinching my fingers terribly. "And so you want to see our garden uphere, " said Snookes; "you're the greenest thing we've got in it justnow, let me tell you--ha! ha! ha!"

I didn't see anything to laugh at; but I laughed just to keep themcompany, thinking the joke was over. However, before I knew what theywere about they caught hold of me, and while one blinded my eyes with ahandkerchief, I found myself lashed up to the rigging with my arms andlegs spread out just like the eagle on a Russian flag. Presently allwas silent. The ship kept rolling backwards and forwards as before, andI began to feel somewhat queer in the region of my waistband and rightup to my throat, still I wouldn't cry out. Suddenly I found the bandagewhisked off my eyes, and then I could see only one top man standing onthe other side of the top, but my messmates had disappeared. I calledto the man. He touched his hat with the greatest respect. I told himto cast me loose. "My orders were, sir, not to touch you, " he answered. I argued the point. "Well, sir, if as how you pays your footing, I'lldo it, " he replied; "but, sir, you'll take care that I'm not tied up andget two dozen for disobeying orders. " I was ready to promise anything, for it was very unpleasant rolling about up there in the dark. Aftersome hesitation and further talk, Tom Hansard, that was the topman'sname, cut off the lashings. I gave him five shillings, all the money Ihad in my pocket. "You'll keep it secret, sir, " said he. "You'll saynothing against a poor fellow like me, sir; that you won't, I know. " Ipromised him, and he then helped me down through the lubber's hole, foras to going down outside, I couldn't just then have done it to save mylife. When I got back to the berth, there were all my three messmatesseated round the table, taking their tea, and pretending to be very muchastonished at hearing all which had happened to me. Of course, I saidnothing about Tom Hansard, and they pretended that they could not makeout how I had got loose. I found out, however, that the whole plan wasarranged beforehand by Dicky Snookes and my other messmates with thecaptain of the top, just to see what I was made of, and what I would do, it being understood that he was to keep whatever he could get out of me. Had I cried or made a fuss about the matter, or said that I wouldcomplain to my uncle, I should have been looked upon as a regular sneak. The fellows hate telling of one another here just as much as we did atschool. From the way I took the trick I believe they liked me betterthan they did before. Of course, all about the garden and thevegetables was nonsense, and I should have been green to have believedit, which I didn't. Away we went rolling along with a westerly swelland a northerly wind, while many of the fellows in the berth weresinging: "There we lay, all the day, in the Bay of Biscay, O;" andothers "Rule Britannia, " old Gregson not forgetting his standing joke of"Bless the old girl; I wish, while she was about it, that she had ruledthem straighter. " The very next morning the gale, of which the swellwas the forerunner, came down upon us with a sudden gust. "All handsshorten sail, " was shouted along the decks. The men flew aloft, thatis, they climbed up so nimbly that they looked as if they were flying, and they lay out on the yards to reef the sail. Snookes had to go also, as he was stationed in the foretop. "Any greens up there to-day?" Iasked as he passed me, not looking happy, for the ship was tumblingabout, the spray was flying over us, and the wind was howlingterrifically in the rigging. It was altogether very different to whatit had been on the previous evening. Still poor Snookes had to go up. The boatswain's whistle and the voices of the officers sounded loudabove the gale, and so did the cries of the midshipmen. I contrived tomake myself heard, though, of course, I only sung out what I was told tosay, and wasn't always certain what would happen after I had said it, any more than does a person in a fairy tale, who has got hold of somemagic words and doesn't know what effect they will produce. Thetopgallantsails and royals were quickly furled--those are the sailshighest up, you know; and then the huge topsails came rattling down themasts, and the men lay out on the yards and caught hold of them, as theywere bulging out and flapping fearfully about, to reef them. One of thetopmen, Tom Hansard, was at the weather yardarm, and had hold of theearing, which isn't a bit like those gold things our sisters wear intheir ears, but is a long rope which helps to reef the sails. Suddenlythe ship gave a tremendous lurch, I heard a cry, I looked up, and therewas Tom Hansard hanging by one hand to the earing from the yard-arm, right over the foaming ocean. I felt as if I had swallowed a bucketfull of snow. I thought the poor fellow must be dropped overboard, andso did everybody else, and some were running to one of the boats tolower her to pick him up. He swung fearfully about from side to side. No human power could save him. I was watching to see him drop, when hemade a great effort, and springing up, he caught the rope with his otherhand. Still he was only a degree better off. Fancy dangling away atthe end of a thin rope, jerked backwards and forwards high up in theair, with certain death were he to fall on board, and very smallprospect of escape if he fell into the foaming, tumbling sea, throughwhich the ship was flying at the rate of some ten knots an hour. I feltinclined to shriek out in sympathy, for I am sure that I should haveshrieked out, and very loudly too, had I been up there in his place. Ifelt sure that he would come down when I saw two of the topmen going outto the end of the yard-arm and stretching out their arms towards him tohelp him. He saw them, and began to climb up the thin rope till theycould catch hold of his jacket, then up they pulled him, though thesails flapping about very nearly tore him out of their hands. They heldhim on to the yard for a minute till he could recover himself, and thenhe scrambled in on to the top. There was a general shout fore and aftwhen he was safe. Another man went to the weather earing, and threereefs were taken in the topsails. I heard the first lieutenant observeto Uncle Tom that he was very glad to get the ship snug at last; but Icannot say that I thought her snug, or anything snug about her, forthere we were among clouds of sleet and spray, tumbling and rollingabout in that undignified way in which I had not thought it possible sofine a frigate could have been tumbled and rolled about. It broughtdown the ship a peg or two in my estimation, and took the shine out ofmany of us, let me tell you. That fellow Snookes was continuallyoffering me a lump of fat bacon, and at dinner he contrived to slip allthe most greasy bits into my plate. I held out manfully, and tried tolook very heroic, or, at all events, indifferent; but, oh Harry, I didfeel very wretched, and began to reflect that I might possibly have beenrather happier on shore. I suspect that the way my lips curled, and theyellow look of my eyes, betrayed me. The gale lasted for three days. Iwas very glad when it was over; so you understand it is not all sunshineat sea. 

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 3. 

THE SLAVER. 

It was reported that we were to touch at one or two places on the coastof Africa, and then to stand across to the Brazils. The first land wemade was that near Sierra Leone. I always thought that negroes lived inthatched huts, and wore bits of white cloth round their loins. Webrought up before Free Town, the capital of the colony, when what was mysurprise to see really a very handsome place, containing between fifteenand twenty thousand inhabitants, the greater number black or brown men, and as well-dressed and comfortable-looking as any white people couldbe. What is more, they have schools and colleges where they arecapitally taught, and all the little black children go to school; sothat the truth is, that they are far better educated than are thechildren of the working classes in many parts of England, and are alljust as good Christians as we are. Sommers told me all this, and agreat deal more. I haven't spoken about him before. He's a mate--sucha good-natured, kind fellow, and is very merry, though he can be veryserious; and do you know, when he's in the berth, none of the others, big or little, swear and talk about things they oughtn't to. I likeSommers, and so even does Snookes and My Lord; and he never lets anybodybully Polly when he's near. I think that I should have been bullied agood deal, but I took everything that was said or done in good part, orpretended to be unconscious of it, and lost no opportunity ofretorting--good-naturedly of course--it would not have done otherwise. And now, the rest only play the same tricks with me that they do witheach other. No one makes any difference with me because I am thecaptain's nephew, any more than Uncle Tom does himself. Uncle Tom isvery kind, but he makes no difference that I can see between the rest ofthe midshipmen and me. He does the best that he can for all of us, thatis the truth: he punishes all alike if we do wrong, and has us all intothe cabin and gives us good advice, and talks to us frequently. Stillwe do, somehow or other, manage to get into scrapes. I have beenmastheaded twice, and Dickey Snookes five times, since we came to sea;once for dressing up the sheep in some of the men's clothes just beforethe crew were mustered, and then letting them out on the deck; andanother time for cutting poor Polly's hammock down by the head, and verynearly cracking his skull--luckily it's rather thick. After leavingFree Town we touched at Monrovia, the capital of Liberia. Have you everread about that settlement? It was established by the people of theUnited States, and colonised by men of colour, or blacks, who had beenonce slaves and had obtained their freedom. It is a republic, and thechief magistrate as well as all the officers are brown or black men. Itis not nearly so large nor so flourishing a place as Sierra Leone. Inthe latter, you see, there are a great many intelligent white men whoset the blacks an example of industry and perseverance, in whichqualities they are somewhat wanting generally. Still it is wonderful tosee what black men can do when left free with a good example beforethem. Monrovia is really a very respectable-looking city. There are anumber of stone warehouses full of goods near the water, and a good manydwelling-houses of brick, nicely furnished, and of two storeys high, butthe greater number of the habitations are of wood, on brick foundations. There are several churches, four or five at least, with black orcoloured preachers. The greater part of the principal inhabitants areengaged in trade, exchanging palm oil, ivory, cam-wood, which is avaluable dye, for European or American manufactures. They have also anumber of vessels manned by Liberian sailors, which sail along the coastto collect the produce of the country. Uncle Tom took me on shore, butwe remained only a very short time, so that I cannot give you a moreparticular account of the place. Leaving the coast of Africa, we stoodacross the Atlantic towards that of America. We had left the land somefour or five days when the wind fell, and we lay becalmed, one side andthen the other dipping provokingly into the smooth, glassy, and shiningwater, and very nearly rolling our masts out. It was so hot, too, thatthe pitch bubbled up through the seams in the deck, and Dickey Snookesdeclared we could have roasted our dinners on the capstern-head. Ibelieve, indeed, that we could. I was very glad when the sun went down, and the night came, but it was not so very much cooler even then, andmost of the watch below remained on deck to swallow some fresh air, butvery little any one of us benefited by it. The next day, at all events, I thought that we should get a breeze, but it was much the same. Hot!oh, how hot it was! We all went gasping about the decks, not knowingwhat to do with ourselves, and the sea shone so brightly that it waspositively painful to look at it. I daresay that it would have beenmuch worse on shore, for, at all events, the air we breathed was pureand clear, though it was pretty well roasted. It was curious to see thesame chips of wood and empty hampers, and all the odds and ends thrownoverboard, floating around us day after day. We had been a week thusbecalmed when I was sent aloft, as the midshipmen occasionally are, tosee what was to be seen. I did not expect to see anything, but I did, and that was a long, thin, dark blue line away to the north-east. Ireported it to the officer of the watch. He said it was all right, andthat we should have a breeze before long, and ordered the watch to trimsails. The blue line increased in width till it could be seen from thedeck, and on it came, growing broader and broader every instant. Sureenough it was a breeze stirring up the surface of the ocean. In alittle time the upper sails felt its influence, and then the topsailsbegan to bulge out, and the courses moved, and away we glided throughthe still smooth water faster than we had done for many a day. For somehours we ran on till a sail was reported right ahead still becalmed. Aswe drew near we discovered her to be a large topsail schooner, with avery rakish appearance. She was still becalmed, but as we brought thebreeze up with us her sails bulged out, and she began to glide throughthe water. There were many discussions as to what she was; some thoughther an honest trader, others a slaver; some said she was American, andothers Spanish or Portuguese. "One thing is in her favour, " observedold Gregson, "she does not attempt to run away. " "Good reason, Greggy, "said Dickey Snookes aside to me, "she can't--just see what she will dowhen she gets the wind!" Though I had never seen a slaver, the strangercame exactly up to my idea of what a slaver was like. We always at seacall a vessel, whose name and country we don't know, a stranger. Stillshe did not run away even when she got the breeze, but hove her topsailto the mast, and kept bobbing gracefully away at us as we came up, whilethe stars and stripes of the United States flew out at her peak. Alldoubts as to the honesty of her character were dissipated when anofficer standing at her gangway hailed and asked what frigate we were. The reply was given, and he was asked what schooner that was. "`TheWide Awake, ' from New Orleans, bound in for Sierra Leone. Shall behappy to take any letters or packages you have to send for thatsettlement, captain, " exclaimed the speaker through his trumpet. Thiswas all very polite. Still more so was it when the American skipperoffered to send his boat aboard us to receive our despatches. As ithappened, the captain had been wishing to send a letter back to SierraLeone, and several of the officers wished to write, and as the delaywould not be great, we told the polite American that we would troublehim. He seemed well pleased, and said that he would get his boat ready, and drop aboard us. I remained on deck watching the schooner, for thereis something very attractive to my eye in the movements of anothervessel at sea. A boat was after some time lowered from the schooner andpulled towards us, when she filled her fore-topsail, stood a little wayon, tacked, and then steered so as to get to windward of us. I saw ourfirst lieutenant watching her very narrowly when she did this, and thenlooking at her boat. Presently he went into the captain's cabin. Hewas not there long. When he came out he ordered a boat to be manned, with the crew all armed, and directed the crews of three or four guns oneither side to go quietly to their quarters. I saw, meantime, that theAmerican's boat, instead of pulling up alongside, was passing astern ofus, so as to meet the schooner, now rapidly approaching our weatherquarter. She was still within hearing when the first lieutenantshouted, "Our despatches are ready--come on board!" But the people inthe boat pretended not to hear, and pulled on towards the schooner. Onthis Sommers was ordered to take command of the boat, and to proceed onboard the stranger. To my great delight I got leave from Uncle Tom toaccompany him. It was very kind--it was the first piece of favouritismhe had shown me. Dickey Snookes was quite jealous when he saw me jumpinto the boat. "Ah, Pringle, you'll get knocked on the head, my boy, depend on that!" was his encouraging observation. Away we pulledtowards the schooner. Her boat had reached her, and was hoisted up. Wehad before not observed more than a dozen or fifteen men at the utmost. There were now more than double that number on her deck, or about herrigging. Every stitch of canvas she could carry was set; her yards werebraced sharp up, and away she went like a shot on a bowline. "Give way, my lads, give way!" cried Sommers, and the men did give way, pullingwith all their might; but the schooner went through the water muchfaster than we did, and in spite of all our efforts soon left us farbehind. "That was the meaning of all his politeness about the letters--he expected to hoodwink us, did he? the rogue!" exclaimed Sommers. "Butthough we do not catch him, the frigate will; there is no fear of that!"We pulled on after the schooner some time longer, but Sommers at lengthsaw that the chase was perfectly hopeless. "The worst of it is, thatthe frigate will have to heave to to pick us up, " he observed. He thenasked me if I should mind letting the frigate stand on after the chase, and stand the chance of being picked up when she had caught her. Icannot say that I particularly liked the notion of being left all alonein a boat in the middle of the Atlantic. Still I did not like to sayso. However, the captain settled the point by heaving the frigate to asshe came up to us, and ordering us to return on board. This we did withas little delay, as possible, when once more the frigate stood on afterthe schooner. Still the latter had gained a considerable advantage, butshe was not beyond the range of our guns, and we now began to fire awayat her to make her heave to again. Of course she had no intention ofdoing this if she could help it. Our shot went flying pretty thicklyafter her, but still, though several struck her and cut her ropes, andmade eyelet holes in her sails, her damages were repaired as quickly asthey were produced, and there seemed a considerable chance of hergetting away from us altogether. 

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 4. 

THE CHASE. 

Our frigate sails very fast; there are few ships in the service sailfaster, and none in most respects to surpass her, or indeed, I reallybelieve, to equal her. I do not know what she cannot do. The boatswainsays, and I believe him, that she can do everything but talk. Still, somehow or other, that piccarooning-looking schooner managed to keepahead of us, and after some time actually ran out of the range of ourshot. She was undoubtedly one of the fastest vessels of her class everbuilt, or it would not have happened. The schooner made a number ofshort tacks right away in the wind's eye. This would not have suitedus, as we took longer to go about, so we had to stretch away to theeastward, while she, tacking once more, stood to the north-west. Sometimes we appeared to be a long way apart, then about we would go andbe almost up with her again. What we had to fear was night coming onbefore we could get up to her, when very probably she would contrive toescape in the dark. Old Gregson watched her moodily. "Of course shewill escape, " he observed. "She is probably full of slaves, and wouldprove a rich prize to us. We are not likely to have any luck; no shiphas that I'm on board. " It seemed probable that in this case, at allevents, he would be right. We were all so eager in watching the chasethat none of us felt inclined to go below. The pangs of hunger atdinner-time, however, drove most of us there. We had not got halfthrough the meal before Dickey Snookes made his appearance with theannouncement that the schooner's maintopmast had been carried away, andthat we should be soon up to her. We all rushed on deck to find mattersvery much as they were when we went below, and on our return to theberth there was Master Dickey comfortably seated at table, helpinghimself to the best bits of the boiled beef and duff, and laughing atour simplicity, or, as he remarked, at our being so easily sold. He gota cobbing by the by, as a wind-up to his amusement, after dinner wasover. It is an operation by no means over-pleasant to the person onwhom it is inflicted. The weapon employed is a handkerchief with acorner knotted; or a stocking, with the end filled with socks, orsomething to make a hard knot. The patient is laid across themess-table, and each member of the berth inflicts a blow on a part ofhis body, over which his clothes are tightly drawn. As the day drew on, the wind increased. Dickey Snookes having been properly cobbed, we allhurried on deck. As we looked through our glasses, we saw that theschooner was staggering along under as much canvas as she could carry;while the frigate glided on with becoming dignity, we having decidedlythe advantage in a strong wind. I asked Sommers what he thought aboutthe matter. "We are coming up with her, lad, hand over hand, and if thewind holds she will be under our guns before nightfall, " he answered. As you may suppose, I was highly delighted with the thoughts of this, and hoped that I might be sent on board with the prize crew. Still theschooner held on her course, and her determined attempts to escapeconvinced us more and more that she had good reason for so doing. Theevening was now drawing on. We had gained on her very considerably, butstill she was sufficiently ahead, should the night prove dark, to escapeus. The very idea that she would do so was provoking. Some did notseem to care so much about it as others. Dickey made a joke of thematter, and said how foolish we should all look in the morning when theschooner was nowhere; and Polly was provokingly indifferent. The sunwent down, and darkness came on, and very dark it was; and though Ilooked and looked I could not see the chase, but there were many onboard who could, and we began firing away, the flashes of the gunslooking very bright through the darkness. At last I saw the schooner'sdark hull and masts, like a shadow against the sky, and there then was acry that her foretopmast was shot away, and our people gave a loudcheer. Directly after this the first lieutenant shouted that she hadstruck, and we ceased firing. Two boats were ordered away to takepossession. The second lieutenant went in one, and Sommers had commandof the other. I jumped into his boat, as if it were a matter of course;and away we pulled toward the schooner. "I guess that you have prettyconsiderably outmanoeuvred us, gentlemen, but still I don't know, bywhat right you, or any other men alive, venture on board a free andindependent merchantman of the United States of America, " said a man whomet us at the gangway. "You come on board at your peril!"

"We are well aware of that, friend, " answered our lieutenant; "but wemust be satisfied that you are an American before we let you go. "

Saying this, he led the way on board. By the light of the lanterns wecarried, we could see a very ill-looking crew scowling at us, andevidently wishing to heave us overboard. It was lucky that we were allwell armed. I daresay that you will fancy I could not have done much, but I could fire off a pistol at all events, which was as likely to killas that of a bigger fellow--that was one comfort. The man who hadhailed us, and pretended to be the captain, had said that the vessel wasAmerican. Mr Talbot was only a short time in the cabin when he cameout again, and telling us that he had no doubt she was a Portuguese orBrazilian, ordered the hatches, which were closed, to be lifted off. This took us some little time to do. Never shall I forget the horriblestench--the shrieks and cries and groans which ascended from the hold asthe hatches were got off. We lowered our lanterns and looked down. There, arranged in rows along the deck, and chained two and two, squatting on their hams, were several hundreds of blacks--men, women, and children. I cannot describe the dreadful faces of despair andhorror and suffering which met our view as the light of our lanternsfell on them, while they looked up with their white eyes and blackvisages imploringly at us. I fancy that they thought we were going toshoot them all; for the Portuguese crew had told them so, in the hopes, should we free them, that they might set upon us and throw us overboard. This amiable intention was frustrated, because Mr Talbot had been onthe coast of Africa and was well up to the tricks of the slavers. Heconsequently would not allow any of the poor wretches to be liberatedtill all necessary precautions had been taken to prevent them from doingany harm. Our first care was to secure the slaver's crew. They seemedas if inclined to make some resistance; but we pointed to the frigate, which was close to us, and intimated that if they did not behavethemselves we should call her to our assistance; so, with no very goodgrace, they consented to step into one of our boats to be carried onboard the Juno. I was very glad to get rid of them, for I could nothelp feeling, as I walked about the deck, that any moment they might setupon us and knock us on the head. As soon as they had gone, Mr Talbotsent Sommers and me round the deck with water and farinha; that is thefood the blacks are fed on. We had four men with us carrying theprovisions. I could not have supposed that human beings, with flesh andblood like ourselves, could have existed in such a horrible condition. In the first place, there was barely four feet between the decks, andthat was very high for a slaver; many are only three feet. Even I hadto bend down to get along. Close as they could be packed, the poorcreatures sat on the bare, hard, dirty deck, without even room tostretch their legs. I almost fainted, and even Sommers and the men hadgreat difficulty in getting along. Oh! how eagerly the poor creaturesdrank the water when we put it to their mouths, though they did not seemto care much about the food. Many could not even lift up their heads totake the water. Several were dying; and as we put the tin cups to theirmouths, even while gazing at us, and, I am sure, feeling grateful, theyfell back and died. Many were already dead when we came to them, andthere they lay, chained to the living. Sometimes we found that a fatherhad died, leaving two or three small children; sometimes a mother hadsunk, leaving an infant still living. Several poor children had died, and it was hard work, and cruel it seemed, to make the poor mothers giveup the bodies to be thrown overboard. We came to one black lad, who wassitting by the side of a woman, whom we guessed must be his mother. Sommers said that he thought she had not many minutes to live. The poorfellow seemed so grateful when we gave her some water and food, whichrevived her somewhat. I never saw a greater change in anybody'scountenance. He was at first the very picture of misery and despair. Then he thought that she was going to recover. He looked up as if hecould almost have worshipped us, with a smile which, though hiscountenance was black, was full of expression. We knocked off herchains, and then those of the lad, and Sommers directed one of the mento assist me in carrying her on deck. There were many in as deplorablea condition as this poor woman, and I scarcely know why it was I felt soanxious to assist her, except on account of her son; there was somethingin his face which had so interested me. When we got her on deck, shesat up but she could not reply to her son, who, with tears in his eyes, spoke to her, imploring her, it seemed, to answer him. The surgeon andassistant-surgeons had by this time come on board. I begged the firstto come and look at the poor woman before he went below. When Ireturned, she had sunk back in her son's arms. Our kind doctor took herhand--"It's all over with her; I can do nothing. The poor lad will findit out, " he observed, and then he had to hurry below. It was some timebefore the poor lad could believe that his mother was dead, and then heburst into such a fit of tears that I thought he would have diedhimself. It convinced me that negroes have got hearts just like ours, though Dickey Snookes always declares they have not, and that they oncehad tails, which is all nonsense. We had now a strong body of seamen onboard, and they kept bringing up the negroes from below--men, women, andchildren. Several were dead, and two or three had been dead for acouple of days or more. One poor woman had kept the dead body of herchild, pretending that it was alive, nor bearing to part with it, tillshe herself fell sick. At length it was taken from her, but she died assoon as she was brought on deck. In spite of all the doctors could do, many others died also. It was daylight before we got the slave hold inanything like order. As soon as the sun rose, up went the glorious flagof old England, and from that moment every negro on board was free. Itis a proud thing to feel that not for a moment can a man remain a slavewho rests under the shadow of that time-honoured banner. The instantthe slave, whatever his country, sets foot on British soil, he is free, or placed under the protection of the British flag. It is a thing to beproud of. Of that I am certain. Not for a long time, however, could wepersuade the poor slaves that we meant them well, and were doing all wecould for their benefit. When they once were convinced of this, theygave us their unlimited confidence. We were then able to trust about athird at a time on deck, to enable us to clean out the hold. It was notso much that we had reason to be on our guard against what the negroescould do to us, as to prevent them from injuring themselves. Mr Talbothad ordered about fifty to be brought on deck soon after daylight. Hehad their irons knocked off, and water and brushes were given them thatthey might clean themselves. No sooner, however, did two of them findthemselves free, than, before anybody could prevent them, they leapedoverboard. One poor fellow sunk at once, and disappeared from oursight; the other seemed to repent of the act, and swam to regain theschooner. I, with others, instantly leaped into one of the boatsalongside to go and pick him up. Just as we were shoving off, I saw ablack triangular fin sticking up above the surface dart from under thecounter. We shouted and splashed the oars as we pulled with all ourmight towards the poor fellow. There was a terrible shriek; he gave oneimploring gaze at us as he threw up his arms and sank from view. Wecould see him going rapidly down, with a large dark object below him, while a red circle came up and filled the eddy he had made. "Jack Sharkmusters pretty thick about here, " observed the coxswain; "he knows wellenough when he's likely to have a feast. " It was very dreadful, but, doyou know, it is extraordinary how little one feels those sort of thingsat the time. When I got on board I looked about for the poor lad whosemother had died. I found him still sitting by her body. That had to betaken from him, and then he was left alone. He seemed not to know or tocare for any of the other blacks, but when I spoke to him he knelt downand kissed my hand, and said some words which I thought meant--"You'llbe kind to me and take care of me. I know you will. I'll trust toyou. " I do not know whether this was really what he said or not, but, at all events, I determined to do my best, and to be a friend to him. Slavers, when captured, are usually sent into Sierra Leone to becondemned, when the slaves are set free, and the vessels are sold. Onexamining our prize, however, it was discovered that she had but a shortallowance of water and farinha, or provisions of any sort; and as thewind was fair for Rio de Janeiro, and contrary for Sierra Leone, thecaptain decided on carrying her to the former place, or to some otherport on the Brazilian coast, where she might obtain a sufficient supplyof necessaries, which we could not afford to give her from the frigate. Sommers was appointed to command the prize, and I was not a littlegratified when he obtained leave to take me with him. My traps weresoon on board, and we then shaped a course for Rio de Janeiro. 

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 5. 

PETER PONGO. 

I forgot to say that Dickey Snookes was sent on board the prize to keepme company. He told me that the captain had called him into the cabin, and given him a long lecture about playing tricks, and that he had madeup his mind to behave very circumspectly. I doubted that he would keepvery long to his good resolution. I felt excessively proud when I firstwalked the deck of the prize as officer of the watch, though that fellowSnookes would declare that the old quartermaster who kept it with me wasmy dry-nurse, and that I was a mere make-believe. I know that I keptpacing up and down on the weather side of the quarter-deck with greatdignity, looking up at the sails, and every now and then giving a glanceat the compass, to assure myself that the man at the helm was steering aproper course. I should like to know what officer in the service, underthe circumstances, could do more. We were ordered to keep the frigatealways in sight, and as the prize sailed well, we had little difficultyin doing that. In the day time we collected the poor blacks to come ondeck in fifties at a time, and walk up and down. We had a black man onboard the frigate, who was now sent with us, and he understood thelanguage of some of the slaves. I had not forgotten the poor boy whosemother I had seen die, and I got permission for him to attend at ourmess. The other black seaman was able to explain to him what he had todo, and I set to work to teach him English. He learned with surprisingrapidity, and could soon exchange words with me. I wished to give him aname, and succeeded in learning that his native one was Pongo. He, ofcourse, had no Christian name, so I proposed calling him Peter, and hewas always afterwards known as Peter Pongo. He soon became a capitalservant, though he did now and then make curious mistakes. Once hebrought our soup into the cabin in a wash-bowl, and another time emptiedinto a pail two bottles of wine which he had been ordered to cool inwater. Snookes was for punishing him, but I saved the poor fellow, as Iwas certain that he had not done either of the things being aware oftheir incorrectness. He exhibited, in consequence, the greatestgratitude towards me, and evidently looked up to me as his friend andprotector. He improved rapidly in his knowledge of English, and by thetime we drew near the coast of South America he was able to explainhimself with tolerable clearness. With the aid of the negro seaman Ispoke of, I got somewhat of poor Peter Pongo's simple history out ofhim. I cannot put it in his words, for though at the time I couldunderstand them, yet you certainly would not if I wrote them down. Oneday I had gone forward, and when seated on the forecastle, under theshade of the fore-staysail, I listened to his narrative. "Ah! MassaPringle, my country very good, " he began. He always called me Pringle, for he could not manage to pronounce my surname. "Plenty yams there--plenty denge--plenty corn--plenty sheep--tall trees--high mountains--water come gushing out of rocks up among clouds--so cool with foam--loudroar--make grass grow--bright ponds--many animals come and drink. Ah!no country like mine. My father have good house too--very warm--verycool--no rain come in--all built round square--high roof, hang long wayover wall--room for walk up and down under it. Dere we all sit inmiddle of square, listen to stories--now we laugh, now we cry--sun godown, moon get up--star twinkle in dark sky, all so bright--still wetalk--talk on--tell long stories--so happy--laugh still more. Ah! whatis dat? Dreadful shriek--shriek--shriek--guns fire--we all start up--some run one way, some anoder--house on fire--flames rise up--fierce mencome in--cut down some--kill--kill--take women, children--many youngmen--some fight--dey all killed--my father killed--mother, brother, andme all carried away together--hands tied behind our backs--hundreds--hundreds poor people, all drive away towards coast--then with longsticks and whips drive along--walk, walk--foot so sore--sleep at nightunder tree--all chained--up again before sun--walk, walk on all day--cruel men beat us--some grow sick. My brother, him grow sick--lie downunder tree--men beat him with stick--he look up--say, Oh, no beat me--give one sigh, fall back and die. Dere he stay--many die like him--somelie down, and men beat him up again. On we go--see at last blue ocean--put into Barracoon--all chained to iron bar--no move one side nor oder--wait dere many days. Ship with white sail come at last--we all put onraft--carried to ship. Oh, how many--more, more come--ship no holdthem--many sick--many die--thrown overboard--shark eat them. On wesail--oh, how hot--more, more die--many days no more--float on waterlike one log--den you come--white man, Spaniard, say you kill us--ah, no, no--you very good--we very happy--yes, massa, Peter Pongo very happynow. " Such was Peter's brief account of himself. You will not considerit too much of a rigmarole. I was, I know, much interested when he toldit me, and I had some little difficulty in making out what he meant. Soon after this we entered the magnificent harbour of Rio de Janeiro, which looks like a lake surrounded by lofty hills, the curioussugar-loaf rising above all. I have heard it said that it would containall the ships in the world; but, large as it is, I have an idea thatthey would be very close packed if they were all brought together there. The city is large, built on level ground, or rather on a swamp, withmountains covered with trees rising directly behind it. There arenumerous churches and fine palaces, and many large public buildings, butthe white inhabitants are very brown and dirty, and the black, who seemto be very numerous, wear a remarkably small amount of clothing. Thoughthe greater number are slaves, they are very merry slaves, and it wasamusing to see one party meet another. They would stop, pull off theirstraw hats, make a series of mock polite bows, and some remarks whichwere sure to produce roars of laughter; how they would twist and turnabout, and at last lean against each other's backs, that they might moreat their ease indulge in fresh cachinnations. I have never seen any butblacks twist themselves into such curious attitudes. I cannot give amore lucid account of this imperial city, because I was so very littleon shore. We had a great deal of work in getting the schooner refitted. All the poor blacks were taken on board the frigate, for we could nottrust them on shore lest the Brazilians might have spirited them away, while the schooner was thoroughly cleansed and fumigated. We then tookin an ample supply of water and provisions, and prepared to recross theAtlantic. The Brazilians could not understand why we took so muchtrouble about a few miserable blacks, and thought that we should havedone much more wisely had we sold them to them at half-price. MrTalbot had still charge of the prize, and having Sommers as hislieutenant, with Dickey Snookes and me, he was ordered to carry her backto Sierra Leone. We flattered ourselves that both My Lord and Pollylooked at us with a considerable amount of envy as we wished themfarewell. 

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 6. 

OVERBOARD. 

Once more we were at sea. Had it not been for the honour of the thing, we should have preferred being on board the frigate, for although I havea great respect for many Africans, I must say that it is not agreeableto have some hundreds of them as shipmates. We had happily very fineweather, and the poor people were able constantly to take the air ondeck. They seemed to have forgotten all their sufferings and miseries, and would sing and dance and tell stories, and laugh all day long. Istill continued to take Peter Pongo in hand, and began to teach him notonly to speak but to read and write English. Snookes used to laugh atme at first, but when he saw the progress Peter made he wanted to teachhim likewise. To this I said No, he might try and teach some one else, but he was not to interfere with my pupil. He agreed to this, buteither he selected a stupid subject, or his mode of teaching was notgood, for he made wonderfully little progress. For a week he was tryingto teach his pupil Tommy Toad, as he called him, three letters of thealphabet, and at the end of the time he could not tell B from C. MrTalbot took care also that we should not be idle, and kept us knottingand splicing and doing all sorts of work aloft. We were approaching ourport, and were congratulating ourselves on having made a favourablepassage, when two of our men were taken sick, then another and another, till our strength was sadly reduced. One poor fellow died, and thereappeared every prospect of our losing more. The negroes were generallyready enough to work, but as they did not know how, they were of littleuse. Mr Talbot and Sommers worked away most heroically, attending tothe sick, pulling and hauling, and often steering the vessel. Dickeyand I did our best to help them. While the fine weather lasted ourdifficulties were not very great; at the same time, we were so shorthanded that the labour fell heavily on those who remained well. Dickeyand I, though not very big or strong, from going constantly aloft, wereof no little use, we flattered ourselves. One evening as we wereapproaching our destination, being closed hauled under all sail andstanding on our course--Sommers was at the helm, Mr Talbot was below, and Dickey and I with two men were on deck, all we could muster for thewatch--Sommers kept looking anxiously round the horizon, especially tothe southward, where I observed some dark clouds banking up. As Iwatched them, they seemed suddenly to take it into their heads to rollrapidly onward, and down they bore upon us like a flock of sheepscouring over the downs. "All hands shorten sail, " shouted Sommers. "Stafford. Rushforth, aloft lads, and furl the fore-topgallantsail. "Up we sprang into the rigging. As yet the breeze was very light, andthere was no difficulty in what we had to do, but a few minutes' delaymight make the task impracticable. Dickey was spirited enough inreality. We lay along on the yard, and had begun to haul the sail, when, as I was stretching over to get a hold of the canvas to gather itup, I lost my balance, and over I went head first. I heard a shriek. It was from Dickey. He thought I should be killed. So should I, if Ihad had time to think about the matter; but providentially at thatmoment a sudden puff of wind bulged out the foretopsail to its utmostextent, and I striking it at the moment, away it sent me, as from acatapult, right over the bows, clear of the vessel. Had I struck thedeck or bulwarks I should have been killed. I sank, but quickly comingto the surface, looked about me with very little hope of being saved, for there was the schooner flying on before the fast-increasing gale;and as I knew full well, with so few seamen on board, that it would takesome time to put about to come to my relief. All this flashed rapidlythrough my mind. Farther and farther away flew the schooner, still Idetermined not to give in. I could swim pretty well, and I managed tothrow off my jacket and kick off my shoes, and as only a thin pair oftrousers and a shirt remained, I had no difficulty in keeping myselfabove water; but the knowledge that sharks abounded in those seas, andthat any moment one of those horrid monsters might catch hold of my legand haul me down, gave me very unpleasant sensations. I watched thereceding vessel--moments seemed hours. There was no sign of her puttingabout. I at length was about to give way to despair, when my eye fellon an object floating between her and me. It was of some size--agrating I concluded--and I made out a black ball on the other side ofit. The grating was moving towards me. I struck out to make it, andthen I saw that it was pushed by a negro. "Keep up, Massa Pringle, keepup, " said a voice in a cheery tone, which I recognised as that of PeterPongo. My spirits returned. I had been a careless, thoughtless fellow, but I prayed then as I never prayed before, that the dreadful sharksmight be kept from me, that I might reach the grating, and might by somemeans or other be saved. I felt a strength and courage I had not feltbefore. I struck out with all my power, still it seemed very very longbefore I reached the grating, and in my agitation I almost sank as I wascatching hold of it. Peter Pongo had, however, sprang on to it andcaught hold of me. I soon recovered. Words enough did not just thencome into my head to thank him, but I took his hand, and he understoodme. So far I was safe, for the grating was large enough to hold usboth, but the sea was rapidly rising, and we might easily again bewashed off. We looked about us, the schooner had not yet tacked, andthe squall had already caught her. She was heeling over on herbeam-ends, and everything seemed in confusion on board--yards swingingabout, ropes flying away, and sails shivering to tatters. It was latein the evening, the sky was obscured, and darkness was coming on. Theseas, too, began to dance wildly about us; their white tops, curlingover and leaving dark cavern-looking hollows underneath, into which itseemed every instant that we must glide and be swallowed up. Theprospect altogether was gloomy in the extreme. I felt how much I owedto poor Peter Pongo, who had voluntarily exposed himself to it for mysake, and I felt that had he not done so, I should long before this havebeen numbered with the dead. I still thought that we should both besaved. There were some bits of rope fastened to the grating, and bythese we lashed ourselves to it, or we should inevitably have beenwashed off. We were constantly under water, but as it was warm that didnot signify, as we soon again came to the surface. Our fear was lestsome hungry shark should make a dart at us on those occasions and pickus off. Darker and darker it grew, the seas as they dashed wildly aboutmade a loud prolonged roar, and at last, as we cast our eyes forward, not a glimpse of the schooner could we see. As the conviction of ourforlorn condition broke upon me--I could not help it--I gave way totears. I could not wring my hands because they were busy holding on tothe grating. I thought of you, mother, and papa, and dear Harry, andour sisters, and that I should never see you any more; or old England, or the Hall, or Uncle Tom, or any of my friends. Peter wasn't sounhappy, because he had no friends remaining, and his native village wasin ruins. The darkness came thicker and thicker down upon us. Nothingcould we see but the dark waves rising up on every side against the sky. Not a star was visible. We no longer, indeed, knew in which directionto look for the schooner. It appeared, I remember exactly, as if wewere being tossed about inside a black ball. I could not calculate howlong a time had passed since I had fallen overboard, when I began tofeel very hungry. I had had a bit of biscuit in my pocket, but that hadbeen lost with my jacket, and now I had nothing to eat. I bore it forsome time, and then I felt very faint, and thought that I could notpossibly hold on any longer. Still I did my best not to let go, andevery now and then Peter spoke to me and encouraged me, "Neber fear, massa, " said he. "Him you tell me of, live up in sky, Him watch overus. " We did not speak much, however; we could not, I do not know why. Oh, that was a dreary, awful night, not likely to be forgotten! Yethere I am alive. I shall never despair after that, and shall alwaysfeel, in however terrible a position I am placed, that a merciful God iswatching over me, and that He will find means to save me. 

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 7. 

CAUSE FOR GRATITUDE. 

The longest night must come to an end. Many people, when kept awake ina comfortable bed with the toothache or some other pain, or perhaps witha little fever, think themselves very miserable, and much to be pitied. Peter Pongo and I were rather worse off, tossing about on the gratingout on the Atlantic there, not having anything to eat, and not knowingany moment when we might be washed away from our unsteady raft. How weheld on during all that night I cannot tell. The light came at last. We knew where the east was by seeing a bright red streak in the sky. Wekept our eyes turned eagerly in that direction, for we fancied thatthere we should see the schooner. Our view, however, was very muchcircumscribed, and it was only as we were tossed up to the top of a seathat we could obtain even a glimpse of the horizon. We had scarcelytime to assure ourselves whether or not there was a sail there beforeeither a foam-topped sea jumped up before us, or we sank down again intothe trough. We gazed, but we gazed in vain. No sail was to be seen. In spite of our almost hopeless position we became very hungry, and, what was worse, thirsty also. As the sun rose and struck down on ourheads my thirst increased. I felt certain that I could not hold on muchlonger. Peter Pongo did not care so much about the hot sun, but he wasvery hungry. Suddenly I saw some red objects floating near us in thewater. I looked again. Oh, how eager I felt to get them--they wereoranges. They were too far off to reach. I was afraid to quit thegrating. I had no strength left to swim. No sooner did Peter see themthan he slid off the raft, and swimming round them collected a dozen ormore before him, and pushing them on enabled me to pick them out of thewater. I felt greatly relieved when he was once more safe on thegrating. Oh, how delicious those oranges were! They were the means, Idoubt not, of preserving our lives. They quenched our thirst, but theycould not stop the pangs of hunger. The sun rose higher and higher, till we guessed it was noon. The wind went down, but the sea stillcontinued to tumble us about most uncomfortably. Both of us werebecoming very drowsy when we started up--a loud shout sounded in ourears. "Why, lads, you keep a bad look-out on board your craft, " said avoice. We looked up--a large ship was passing us. "Don't fear--we'llpick you up, " said the former speaker. I heard the cry of "helm'salee!" The yards swung round, and the ship was rounded too. By thattime she seemed to have got a long way from us. Presently, however, wesaw a boat dashing among the seas towards us. I thought that her bowwould have come right down on our raft, but just then I felt a strongarm grasp me by the shoulder, and haul me in, while Peter was treated inthe same way, and we were quickly alongside the ship. We were lifted onboard. She appeared full of people, who looked very kindly at us. Atfirst I could not speak a word; I did not know why. I thought that Iwas going to say something, but no sound was produced. The people whostood round remarked that I was a foreigner, and two or three peoplecame up and addressed me in strange languages, but of course I was notmore likely to answer them than I was my own countrymen. At last Iheard Peter Pongo, who had been much concerned at my silence, say, "Himofficer--speakie by and by. " This remark seemed to satisfy thosepresent, and in about an hour I was able to sit up and explain what hadhappened. I found that we had been rescued by an emigrant ship boundfor the Cape of Good Hope. I was in hope that she might be able to landus at Sierra Leone, but I found that she could not possibly go out ofher course; indeed, that we were much to the southward of that place, and that on to the Cape we also must go. In a very few minutes Ibecame, I must own, reconciled to the necessity. When the cabinpassengers found that I was a midshipman they rigged me out in verycomfortable clothes, and clubbing together presented me with a sum ofmoney, as they said, to enable me to live comfortably, till I could findmy way back to my ship. When, also, they heard how gallantly PeterPongo had rescued me, they gave him a handsome present. He couldscarcely comprehend his good fortune, and as he looked at the money heevidently thought himself the owner of boundless wealth. I had the bestof everything at the chief cabin table, and could not help thinking howpleasant it would be to live the life of a passenger on board anemigrant ship all the year round. I was therefore very much surprisedto hear some of them grumbling from morning to night, complaining ofhaving nothing to do, and wishing that the voyage was over. If they hadlived in a midshipman's berth for a few months, I rather suspect thatthey would have thought themselves well off. I need not describe ourpassage to the Cape; it was a very pleasant one. I was very happyduring the short time I remained at that curious old Dutch place, CapeTown. I saw the table-mountain and the tablecloth on the top of it, andthen a sloop of war called there, and the commodore, who was there, ordered me and Peter Pongo a passage back to Sierra Leone. I was neveridle, for I found ample employment in teaching Peter to read, andwonderful was the progress he made. He was a great favourite on boardthe corvette on account of his intelligence and amiable manners, and thegallant way in which he had preserved my life. On entering the harbourof Sierra Leone, there, to my great satisfaction, lay our schooner, withthe pennant flying at her masthead, and the British ensign at her peak. I got a boat from the corvette, and at once pulled on board. I couldsee at a glance that the schooner had been turned into a man-of-war. She had been bought, as I afterwards found, into the service. I was inplain clothes, and Peter Pongo who accompanied me, was very nicelydressed, and no one would have recognised him as the little slave boy hehad before appeared. Dickey Snookes looked over the side. I sprang upthe side. "What do you want?" he asked. "To see that very importantpersonage, Mr Algernon Godolphin Stafford, commonly known as DickeySnookes, " I answered, taking his hand. He started, and looked at mevery hard, really gasping for breath, so astonished was he. "What! isit you yourself, Rushforth, my dear fellow?" he exclaimed. "I am indeedglad. We thought you were lost; gobbled up by a shark, or sunk to thebottom of the sea. Here, Sommers--here's Rushforth come to life again, and the black boy too. " Sommers, who was below, came on deck, andreceived me most cordially. Mr Talbot, who had command of theschooner, now called the Liberia, was on shore. She was to sail, Ifound, the very next day for Rio Janeiro, to act as a tender to ourship. I consulted with Sommers what would be most to the advantage ofPeter Pongo to do. He strongly advised his going to the college atSierra Leone, where he would receive a very good education, and heundertook to arrange the matter. I had still the greater part of themoney given me by the passengers of the emigrant ship, which I had keptfor the purpose of devoting it to Peter's use. This, with what he hadof his own, would enable him to make a fair start in life. Peterhimself, though very sorry to leave me, was much pleased with theproposal. That very afternoon he and I accompanied Sommers on shore, when the whole matter was arranged in a very satisfactory way with someof the gentlemen connected with the college, who undertook to invest thesum I have mentioned for Peter's benefit. Peter burst into tears as Iwished him good-bye, and I felt a very curious sensation about thethroat. The next day we sailed for Rio. 

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 8. 

CONCLUSION. 

We had a fast run across the Atlantic. The news of my supposed loss hadreached the frigate, and the kind way in which my uncle and the gun-roomofficers, as well as my messmates, received me, showed me that I hadbeen regretted--of course a midshipman cannot expect to create any verygreat sorrow when he loses the number of his mess, as an admiral or apost-captain would. I did not meet with any other very extraordinaryadventures during the remainder of the four years the frigate was incommission. I found the South American station a very pleasant one. Imight have found Rio dull, but that I was constantly sent away in theLiberia, which did good service by capturing several slavers. We usedto make her look like what she formerly was, and in that way she actedas a decoy, and entrapped several slavers who approached her withoutsuspicion. We had one long trip round Cape Horn, and visited the coastof Chili and Peru. That was the most interesting we took. I feel thatI have a right to be considered something of a sailor after havingdoubled Cape Horn, and crossed and re-crossed the Line. At length thefrigate was ordered home; the schooner remained at Rio to do duty asbefore as a tender. On our way we touched at Sierra Leone. My unclegave me leave to go on shore. I hurried off to the college, for I wasanxious to hear something of my old friend and the preserver of my life. Three years had passed since I had seen him. He was then little morethan fourteen. I was shown into a room where several pupil teacherswere engaged in giving instruction to a number of young lads and boys. One teacher was evidently taking the lead of the rest. In very eloquentlanguage he was explaining the truths of Christianity to a class of mostattentive listeners. Though the skin of the speaker was black, thevoice was that of an educated Englishman. I waited till he had ceasedspeaking. There is Mr Pongo, said the person who had conducted me tothe room. His eye brightened as he saw me, and in an instant springingfrom his desk his hands were warmly pressed in mine. What immenseprogress he has made! how little I have advanced since we parted! Ithought as I looked at him and heard him describe his work. I felthumbled and ashamed of myself. I thought over the matter, and resolvedin future to employ my time, as far as I had the power, to the advantageof myself as well as that of others. Pongo came on board the frigate, and was received most kindly by my uncle and all the officers. He was, I found, training to become a missionary of the Gospel among hiscountrymen, and hoped ultimately to be ordained. I have sincefrequently heard from him. We spent only three days at Sierra Leone, and arrived at last safely in old England, and thus ended my firstcruise. 

STORY TWO, CHAPTER 1. 

THE TRAVELLING TIN-MAN, FOUNDED ON FACT, BY MISS LESLIE. 

Micajah Warner was owner and cultivator of a small farm in one of theoldest, most fertile, and most beautiful counties of the State ofPennsylvania, not far from Maryland line. Micajah was a plain Quaker, and a man of quiet and primitive habits. He was totally devoid of allambitious cravings after tracts of ten thousand acres, and he aspirednot to the honour and glory of having his name given to a town in thewestern wilderness (though Warnerville would not have sounded badly), neither was he possessed of an unconquerable desire of becoming a judge, or of going to Congress. Therefore, he had always been able to resistthe persuasions and example of those of his neighbours who left the homeof their fathers, and the comforts of an old settlement, to seek a lesstedious road to wealth and consequence, on the other side of theAllegany. He was satisfied with the possession of two hundred acres, one half of which he had lent (not given) to his son Israel, whoexpected shortly to be married to a very pretty and notable young womanin the neighbourhood, who was, however, no heiress. Upon this event, Israel was to be established in an old frame-house that had long sincebeen abandoned by his father in favour of the substantial stone dwellingwhich the family occupied at the period of our story. The house hadbeen taken up and transplanted to that part of the farm now allotted toIsrael, and he very prudently deferred repairing it till he saw whetherit survived its progress across the domain. But as it did not fallasunder during the journey, it was judged worthy of a new front-door, new window-panes, and new shingles to cover the vast chasms of the roof, all which improvements were made by Israel's own hands. This house wasdeposited in the vicinity of the upper branch of the creek, andconveniently near to a saw-mill, which had been built by Israel inperson. 

Like all of her sect, whether in town or country, Bulah, the wife ofMicajah Warner, was a woman of even temper, untiring industry, and greatskill in housewifery. 

Her daughters, commonly called Amy and Orphy, were neat pretty littleQuaker girls, extremely alert, and accustomed from their earliestchildhood to assist in the work of the house. As her daughters were sohandy and industrious, and only went half the year to school, MrsWarner did not think it necessary to keep any other help than anindentured negro girl, named Chloe. 

Except the marriage of Israel, which was now in prospect; a flood in theneighbouring creek, which had raised the water so high as to wash awaythe brick oven from the side of the house; a tornado that carried offthe roof of the old stable, and landed it whole in an adjoining cloverfield; and a visit from a family of beggars (an extraordinary phenomenonin the country), nothing occurred among the Warners for a longsuccession of years that had occasioned more than a month's talk of themother, and a month's listening of the children. 

 "They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. "

The occupations of Israel and his father (assisted occasionally by a fewhired men) were, of course, those of the farm, except when Israel took aday now and then to attend to his saw-mill. With regard to domesticarrangements, everything connected with household affairs went on in thesame course year after year except that, as the daughters of the familyimproved in capability of work, Chloe the black girl, retrograded. Theywashed on Monday (with the assistance of a woman, hired for the day), ironed on Tuesday, performed what they called "the little baking" onWednesday, and "the big baking" on Friday; cleaned the house onSaturday, and clear-starched their book-muslin collars; rode onhorseback to Friends' meeting on Sunday morning, and visited theirneighbours on Sunday afternoon. 

It was the day after the one on which Israel and his bride-elect hadpassed meeting, and consequently, a month before the one fixed for thewedding, that something like an adventure fell among the Warner family. 

It was a beautiful evening at the close of August. The father and sonhad been all day in the meadows, mowing the second crop of grass; MrsWarner was darning stockings in the porch, with her two daughtersknitting on the bench beside her; Amy being then fourteen, and Orphyabout twelve. Chloe was absent, having been borrowed by a relation, about five miles off, to do the general work of the house, while thefamily were engaged in preparing for a quilting frolic. 

"Come, girls, " said Mrs Warner to her daughter, "it's just sun-down. The geese are coming home, and daddy and Israel will soon be here. Amy, do thee go down to the spring-house, and bring up the milk and butter, and Orphy, thee can set the table. "

The two girls put up their knitting (not, however, till they had knit tothe middle of the needle), and in a short time, Amy was seen coming backfrom the spring-house, with a large pitcher of milk and a plate ofbutter. In the meantime, Orphy had drawn out the ponderous claw-footedwalnut table that stood all summer in the porch, and spreading over it abrown linen cloth, placed in regular order their everyday supperequipage of pewter plates, earthen porringers, and iron spoons. 

The viands consisted of an immense round loaf of bread, nearly as largeas a grindstone, and made of wheat and Indian meal, the half of a hugecheese, a piece of cold pork, a peach pie, an apple pie, and, as it hadbeen baking day, there was the customary addition of a rice pudding, inan earthen pan of stupendous size. The last finish of the decorationsof the table was a large bowl of cool water, placed near the seatoccupied by the father of the family, who never could begin any of hismeals without a copious draught of the pure element. 

In a few minutes, the farmer and his son made their appearance as theyturned the angle of the peach-orchard fence, preceded by the geese, their usual _avant-couriers_, who went out every morning to feed in anold field beyond the meadows. 

As soon as Micajah and Israel had hung up their scythes and washedthemselves at the pump, they sat down to table, the farmer in his ownblue-painted, high-backed, high-armed chair, and Israel taking the seatalways allotted to him--a low chair, the rushes of which having longsince deserted the bottom, had been replaced by cross pieces of clothlisting, ingeniously interwoven with each other; and this being, according to the general opinion, the worst seat in the house, alwaysfell to the share of the young man, who was usually passive on alloccasions, and never seemed to consider himself entitled to the sameaccommodation as the rest of the family. 

Suddenly, the shrill blast of a tin trumpet resounded through the woods, that covered the hill in front of the house, to the great disturbance ofthe geese, who had settled themselves quietly for the night in theirusual bivouac around the ruins of an old waggon. The Warners ceasedtheir supper to listen and look; and they saw emerging from the woods, and rolling down the hill at a brisk trot, the cart of one of thoseitinerant tin merchants, who originate in New England, and travel fromone end of the Union to the other, avoiding the cities, and seekingcustomers amongst the country people; who, besides buying their ware, always invite them to a meal and a bed. 

The tinman came blowing his horn to the steps of the porch, and therestopping his cart, addressed the farmer's wife in the true nasal twangthat characterises the lower class of New Englanders, and inquired "ifshe had any notion of a bargain. "

She replied that "she believed she had no occasion for anything"--hercustomary answer to all such questions. 

But Israel, who looked into futurity, and entertained views towards hisown housekeeping, stepped forward to the tin-cart, and began to takedown and examine various mugs, pans, kettles, and coffee-pots--thelatter particularly, as he had a passion for coffee, which he secretlydetermined to indulge both morning and evening, as soon as he wassettled in his domicile. 

"Mother, " said Amy, "I do wish thee would buy a new coffee-pot, for ourshas been leaking all summer, and I have to stop it every morning withrye-meal. Thee knows we can give the old one to Israel. "

"To be sure, " replied Mrs Warner, "it will do well enough for youngbeginners. But I cannot say I feel quite free to buy a new coffee-potat this time. I must consider about it. "

"And there's the cullender, " said Orphy, "it has such a big crack at thebottom, that when I am smashing the squashes for dinner, not only thewater, but the squashes themselves drip through. Better give it toIsrael, and get a new one for ourselves. What's this?" she continued, taking up a tin water-dipper. 

"That is for dipping warter out of the bucket, " replied the tinman. 

"Oh, yes, " cried Amy, "I've seen such a one at Rachel Johnson's. What aclever thing it is, with a good long handle, so that there's no dangerof splashing the water on our clothes. Do buy it, mother. Thee knowsthat Israel can have the big calabash: I patched it myself, yesterday, where it was broken, and bound the edge with new tape, and it's now asgood as ever. "

"I don't know, " said the farmer, "that we want anything but a newlantern; for ours had the socket burnt out long before these moonlightnights, and it's dangerous work taking a candle into the stable. "

The tinman knowing that our plain old farmers, though extremely liberalof everything that is produced on their plantations, are, frequently, very tenacious of coin, and much averse to parting with actual money, recommended his wares more on account of their cheapness than theirgoodness; and, in fact, the price of most of the articles was two orthree cents lower than they could be purchased for at the stores. 

Old Micajah thought there was no actual necessity for anything exceptthe lantern; but his daughters were so importunate for the coffee-pot, the cullender, and the water-dipper, that finally all three werepurchased and paid for. The tinman in vain endeavoured to prevail onMrs Warner to buy some patty-pans, which the girls looked at withlonging eyes; and he reminded them how pretty the pumpkin pies wouldlook at their next quilting, baked in scollop-edged tins. But thispurchase was peremptorily refused by the good Quaker woman, allegingthat scollop-edged pies were all pride and vanity, and that, if properlymade, they were quite good enough baked in round plates. 

The travelling merchant then produced divers boxes and phials of quackmedicines, prepared at a celebrated manufactory of those articles, andduly sealed with the maker's own seal, and inscribed with his name inhis own handwriting. Amongst these, he said, "there were certain curesfor every complaint in natur'--draps for the agur, the toothache, andthe rhumatiz; salves for ringworms, corns, frostbitten heels, and soreeyes; and pills for consumption and fall fevers; beside that mostvaluable of all physic, Swain's Wormifuge. "

The young people exclaimed with one accord against the purchase of anyof the medicines; and business being over, the tinman was invited by thefarmer to sit down and take his supper with the family--an invitation asfreely accepted as given. 

The twilight was now closing, but the full moon had risen, and affordedsufficient light for the supper table in the porch. The tinman took aseat, and before Mrs Warner had finished her usual invitation tostrangers, of--"reach to, and help thyself; we are poor hands atinviting, but thee's welcome to it, such as it is"--he had already cuthimself a huge piece of the cold pork, and an enormous slice of bread. He next poured out a porringer of milk, to which he afterwards addedone-third of the peach pie, and several platesful of rice pudding. Hethen said, "I suppose you haven't got no cider about the house;" andIsrael, at his father's request, immediately brought up a pitcher ofthat liquor from the cellar. 

During supper the tinman entertained his entertainers with anecdotes ofthe roguery of his own countrymen, or rather, as he called them, his"statesmen. " In his opinion of their general dishonesty, Mrs Warnermost cordially joined. She related a story of an itinerant Yankee whopersuaded her to empty some of her pillows and bolsters, under colour ofexchanging with him old feathers for new; a thing which she acknowledgedhad puzzled her not a little, as she thought it strange that any manshould bargain so badly for himself. He produced from his cart a bag offeathers which he declared were quite new; but after his departure shefound that he had given her such short measure that she had not halfenough to fill her ticking, and most of the feathers were proved, uponexamination, to have belonged to chickens rather than to geese--nearly awhole cock's tail having been found amongst them. 

The farmer pointed into the open door of the house, and showed thetinman a large wooden clock put up without a case between two windows, the pendulum and the weights being "exposed and bare. " This clock hehad bought for ten dollars of a travelling Yankee, who had set out tosupply the country with machines. It had only kept tolerable time forabout two months, and had ever since been getting faster and faster, though it was still faithfully wound up every week. The hands were nowgoing merrily round at the rate of ten miles an hour, and it neverstruck less than twelve. 

The Yankee tinman, with a candour that excited the admiration of thewhole family, acknowledged that his Statesmen were the greatest rogues"on the face of the yearth;" and recounted instances of their trickerythat would have startled the belief of any but the inexperienced andcredulous people who were now listening to him. He told, for example, of sausages being brought to market in an eastern town, that, whenpurchased and prepared for frying, were found to be filled with choppedturnip and shreds of red flannel. 

For once, thought the Warners, we have found an honest Yankee. 

They sat a long time at table, and though the tinman seemed to talk allthe time he was eating, the quantity of victuals that he caused todisappear surprised even Mrs Warner, accustomed as she was to theappetite of Israel. When the Yankee had at last completed his supper, the farmer invited him to stay all night; but he replied, "It wasmoonshiny, and fine cool travelling after a warm day; he preferredputting on towards Maryland as soon as his creature was rested, and hada feed. "

He then, without more ceremony, led his horse and cart into thebarn-yard, and stopping near the stable door, fed the animal by thelight of the moon, and carried him a bucket of water from the pump. 

The girls being reminded by their mother that it was late, and that thecows had long since come home, they took their pails and went out tomilk, while she washed up the supper things. Whilst they were milking, the subsequent dialogue took place between them:--

_Orphy_. I know it's not right to notice strangers, and to be sure theman's welcome, but, Amy, did thee ever see anybody take victuals likethis Yankee?

_Amy_. Yes, but he didn't eat all he took, for I saw him slip a greatchunk of bread and cheese into his pocket, and then a big piece of pie, while he was talking and making us laugh. 

_Orphy_. Well, I think a man must be very badly off to do such a thing. I wonder he did not ask for victuals to take away with him. He neednot have been afraid. He must know that victuals is no object. Andthen he has travelled the roads long enough to be sure that he can get ameal for nothing at any house he stops at, as all the tinmen do. Hemust have seen us looking at his eating so much, and may be his pride ishurt, and so he's made up his mind, all of a sudden, to take his mealsno more at people's houses. 

_Amy_. Then why can't he stop at a tavern, and pay for his victuals?

_Orphy_. May be he don't want to spend his money in that trifling way. Who knows, he may be saving it up to help an old mother, or to buy backland, or something of that sort? I'll be bound he calculates uponeating nothing to-morrow but what he slipped off from our table. 

_Amy_. All he took will not last him a day. It's a pity of him, anyhow. 

_Orphy_. I wish he had not been too bashful to ask for victuals to takewith him. 

_Amy_. And still he did not strike me at all as a bashful man. 

_Orphy_. Suppose we were just in a private way to put some victualsinto his cart for him, without letting him know anything about it!Let's hide it among the tins, and how glad he'll be when he finds itto-morrow!

_Amy_. So we will; that's an excellent notion! I never pitied anybodyso much since the day the beggars came, which was five years ago lastharvest; for I have kept count ever since; and I remember it as well asif it was yesterday. 

_Orphy_. We don't know what a hard thing it is to want victuals, as theIrish schoolmaster used to tell us when he saw us emptying pans of milkinto the pig-trough, and turning the cows into the orchard to eat theheaps of apples lying under the trees. 

_Amy_. Yes, and it must be worse for an American to want victuals thanfor people from the old countries, who are used to it. 

After they had finished their milking, and strained and put away theirmilk, the kind-hearted little girls proceeded to accomplish theirbenevolent purpose. They took from the large wire safe in the cellar apie, half a loaf of bread, and a great piece of cheese, and putting theminto a basket, they went to the barn-yard, intending to tell theirmother as soon as the tinman was gone, and not for one moment doubtingher approval--since in the house of an American farmer, victuals, asOrphy justly observed, are no object. 

As they approached the barn-yard they saw, by the light of the moon, theYankee coming away from his cart, and returning to the house. The girlscrouched down behind the garden fence till he had passed, and thencautiously proceeded on their errand. They went to the back of thecart, intending to deposit their provisions, when they were startled atseeing something evidently alive moving behind the round opening of thelinen cover; and in a moment the head of a little black child peeped outof the hole. 

The girls were so surprised that they stopped short and could not uttera word, and the young negro, evidently afraid of being seen, immediatelypopped down its head among the tins. 

"Amy, did thee see that?" asked Orphy in a low voice. 

"Yes, I did so, " replied Amy; "what can the Yankee be doing with thatlittle nigger? and why does he hide it? Let's go and ask the child. "

"No, no!" exclaimed Orphy, "the tinman will be angry. "

"And who cares if he is?" said Amy; "he has done something he is ashamedof, and we need not be afraid of him. "

They went quite close to the back of the cart, and Amy said, "Here, little snow-ball, show thyself and speak, and do not be afraid, fornobody's going to hurt thee. "

"How did thee come into this cart?" asked Orphy, "and why does theYankee hide thee? Tell us all about it, and be sure not to speak abovethy breath. "

The black child again peeped out of the hole, and looking cautiouslyround, said, "Are you quite sure the naughty man won't hear us?"

"Quite sure, " answered Amy; "but is thee boy or girl?"

"I'm a little gal, " replied the child; and with the characteristicvolubility of her race she continued, "and my name's Dinah, and I'm fiveyears old, and my daddy and mammy are free coloured people, and theylives a big piece off, and daddy works out, and mammy sells gingerbreadand molasses-beer, and we have a sign over the door with a bottle andcake on it. "

_Amy_. But how did this man get hold of thee, if thy father and motherare free people? Thee can't be bound to him, or he need not hide thee. 

_Dinah_. Oh, I know, I ain't bounded to him; I expect he stole me. 

_Amy_. Stole thee! What, here in the free state of Pennsylvania?

_Dinah_. I was out picking huckle-berries in the woods up the roads, and I strayed off a big piece from home. Then the tinman comed along, driving his cart, and I run close to the side of the road to look, as Ialways does when anybody goes by. So he told me to come into his cart, and he would give me a tin mug to put my huckle-berries in, and I mightchuse it myself, and it would hold them a heap better than my old Indianbasket. So I was very glad, and he lifted me up into the cart; and Ichoosed the very best and biggest tin mug he had, and emptied myhuckle-berries into it. And then he told me he'd give me a ride in hiscart, and then he set me far back on a box, and he whipped his creatur, and druv, and druv, and jolted me so, I tumbled all down among the tins. And then he picked me up, and tied me fast with his handkercher to oneof the back posts of the cart, to keep me steady, he said. And then, for all I was steady, I couldn't help crying, and I wanted him to takeme home to daddy and mammy. But he only sniggered at me, and said hewouldn't, and bid me hush; and then he got mad, and because I couldn'thush up just in a minute, he whipped me quite smart. 

_Orphy_. Poor little thing!

_Dinah_. And then I got frightened, for he put on a wicked look, andsaid he'd kill me dead if I cried any more, or made the least noise. And so he has been carrying me along in his cart for two days and twonights, and he makes me hide away all the time, and he won't let nobodysee me. And I hate him, and yesterday, when I know'd he didn't see me, I spit on the crown of his hat. 

_Amy_. Hush! Thee must never say thee hates anybody. 

_Dinah_. At night I sleeps upon the bag of feathers; and when he stopsanywhere to eat, he comes sneaking to the back of the cart, and pokes invictuals (he has just now brung me some), and he tells me he wants me tobe fat and good-looking. I was afeard he was going to sell me to thebutcher, as Nac Willet did his fat calf, and I thought I'd axe him aboutit, and he laughed and told me he was going to sell me, sure enough, butnot to a butcher. And I'm almost all the time very sorry, onlysometimes I'm not; and then I should like to play with the tins, only hewon't let me. I don't dare to cry out loud, for fear the naughty manwould whip me, but I always moan when we're going through woods, andthere's nobody in sight to hear me. He never lets me look out of theback of the cart, only when there's nobody to see me, and he won't letme sing even when I want to. And I moan most when I think of daddy andmammy, and how they are wondering what has become of me; and I thinkmoaning does me good, only he stops me short. 

_Amy_. Now, Orphy, what is to be done? The tinman has, of course, kidnapped this black child to take her into Maryland, where he can sellher for a good price, as she is a fat, healthy-looking thing, and thatis a slave state. Does thee think we ought to let him take her off. 

_Orphy_. No, indeed! I think I could feel free to fight for hermyself; that is, if fighting was not forbidden by Friends. Yonder'sIsrael coming to turn the cows into the clover-field. Little girl, liequiet, and don't offer to show thyself. 

Israel now advanced--"Well, girls, " said he, "what's thee doing at thetinman's cart? Not meddling among his tins, I hope? Oh, the curiosityof women folks!"

"Israel, " said Amy, "step softly; we have something to show thee. "

The girls then lifted up the corner of the cart-cover, and displayed thelittle negro girl, crouched upon the bag of feathers--a part of hismerchandise which the Yankee had not thought it expedient to produce, after hearing Mrs Warner's anecdote of one of his predecessors. Theyoung man was much amazed; and his two sisters began both at once torelate to him the story of the black child. Israel looked almostindignant. His sisters said to him, "To be sure we won't let the Yankeecarry this child off with, him. "

"I judge we won't, " answered Israel. 

"Then, " said Amy, "let us take her out of the cart, and hide her in thebarn, or somewhere, till he is gone. "

"No, " replied Israel, "I can't say I feel free to do that. It would betoo much like stealing her over again; and I've no notion of eveningmyself to a Yankee in any of his ways. Put her down in the cart, andlet her alone. I'll have no underhand work about her. Let's all goback to the house. Mother has got down all the broken crockery from thetop shelf in the corner cupboard, and the Yankee's mending it with asort of stuff like sticks of sealing-wax, that he carries about withhim; and I dare say he'll get her to pay him more for it than the thingsare worth. But I say nothing. "

The girls cautioned Dinah not to let the tinman know that they haddiscovered her, and to keep herself perfectly quiet; and they thenaccompanied their brother to the house, feeling very fidgety and uneasy. 

They found the table covered with old bowls, old tea-pots, old sugardishes, and old pitchers, the fractures of which the Yankee wascementing together, whilst Mrs Warner held the candle, and her husbandviewed the operation with great curiosity. 

"Israel, " said his mother, as he entered, "this friend is making thechina as good as new, only that we can't help seeing the join; and weare going to give all the mended things to thee. "

The Yankee having finished his work, and been paid for it, said it washigh time for him to be about starting, and he must go and look afterhis cart. He accordingly left the house for that purpose; and Israel, looking out at the end window, said, "I see he's not coming round to thehouse again, but going to try the short-cut into the back road. I'll goand see that he puts up the bars after him. "

Israel went out, and his sisters followed him, to see the tinman off. 

The Yankee came to the bars, leading his horse with the cart, and foundIsrael there before him. "Are you going to let down the bars for me?"said the tinman. 

"No, " replied Israel, "I'm not going to be so polite; but I intend tosee that thee carries off nothing more than belongs to thee. "

"What do you mean?" exclaimed the Yankee, changing colour. 

"I expect I can show thee, " answered Israel. Then, stepping up to theback of the cart, and putting in his hands, he pulled out the blackchild, and held her up before him, saying, "Now, if thee offers to touchthis girl, I think we shall be apt to differ. "

The tinman then advanced towards Israel, and, with a menacing look, raised his whip; but the fearless young Quaker (having consigned thelittle girl to his sisters, who held her between them) immediately brokea stick from a tree that grew near, and stood on the defensive, with amost steadfast look of calm resolution. 

The Yankee went close up to him, brandishing his whip, but, before hehad time to strike, Israel, with the utmost coolness, and with greatstrength and dexterity, seized him by the collar, and swinging him roundto some distance, flung him to the ground with such force as to stunhim, saying, "Mind I don't call myself a fighting character, but if theeoffers to get up I shall feel free to keep thee down. "

The tinman began to move, and the girls ran shrieking to the house fortheir father, dragging with them the little black girl, whose screams(as is usual with all of her colour) were the loudest of the loud. 

In an instant the stout old farmer was at the side of his son, andnotwithstanding the struggle of the Yankee, they succeeded by main forcein conveying him to the stable, into which they fastened him for thenight. 

Early next morning, Israel and his father went to the nearest magistratefor a warrant and a constable, and were followed home by half thetownship. The county court was then in session; the tinman was tried, and convicted of having kidnapped a free black child, with the design ofselling her as a slave in one of the Southern States; and he waspunished by fine and imprisonment. 

The Warner family would have felt more compassion for him than they did, only that all the mended china fell to pieces again the next day, andhis tins were so badly soldered that all their bottoms came out beforethe end of the month. 

Mrs Warner declared that she had done with Yankee tinmen for ever, andin short with all other Yankees. But the storekeeper, Philip Thompson, who was the sensible man of the neighbourhood, and took two Philadelphianewspapers, convinced her that some of the best and greatest men Americacan boast of, were natives of the New England States; and he evenasserted, that in the course of his life (and his age did not exceedsixty-seven) he had met with no less than five perfectly honest Yankeetinmen; and besides being honest, two of them were not in the leastimpudent. Amongst the latter, however, he did not of course include avery handsome fellow, that a few years since made the tour of the UnitedStates with his tin-cart, calling himself the Boston Beauty, and wearinghis own miniature round his neck. 

To conclude:--An advertisement having been inserted in several of thepapers to designate where Dinah, the little black girl, was to be found, and the tinman's trial having also been noticed in the public prints, inabout a fortnight her father and mother (two very decent free negroes)arrived to claim her, having walked all the way from their cottage atthe extremity of the next county. They immediately identified her, andthe meeting was most joyful to them and to her. They told at fulllength every particular of their anxious search after their child, whichwas ended by a gentleman bringing a newspaper to their house, containingthe welcome intelligence that she was safe at Micajah Warner's. 

Amy and Orphy were desirous of retaining little Dinah in the family, andas the child's parents seemed very willing, the girls urged their motherto keep her instead of Chloe, who, they said, could very easily be madeover to Israel. But to the astonishment of the whole family, Israel onthis occasion proved refractory, declaring that he would not allow hiswife to be plagued with such an imp as Chloe, and that he chose to havelittle Dinah herself, if her parents would bind her to him till she waseighteen. 

This affair was soon satisfactorily arranged. 

Israel was married at the appointed time, and took possession of thehouse near the saw-mill. He prospered; and in a few years was able tobuy a farm of his own, and to build a stone-house on it. Dinah turnedout extremely well, and the Warner family still talk of the night whenshe was discovered in the cart of the travelling tinman. 

STORY THREE, CHAPTER 1. 

THE BEAUTIFUL GATE. 

One morning, by break of day, old Josiah, who lived in the littlecottage he had built, on the borders of the Great Forest, found his wifeawake long before him--indeed she had scarcely closed her eyes thatnight; and she was ready to speak the moment his eyes opened; for shehad promised their dear Tiny, their only child, that she would have aprivate talk with his father. So she said in a low, but distinct voice, as though she were talking to herself:

"I have nursed him, and watched over him year after year. He has beenlike the sun shining in my path, and precious as a flower. There is notanother like him. I love him better than I do my eyes. If he were awayI might as well be blind. "

"That puts me in mind of what I've been dreaming, " said the old man. "If I was only sure that he would come at last to the Beautiful Gate, Iwouldn't say another word. But who can tell? And it it actuallyhappened that he lost his sight--poor Tiny!"

Josiah did not finish what he had begun to say, but hid his face in thebed-clothes, and then the good wife knew that he was weeping, and herown tears began to fall, and she could not say a word. 

After breakfast, when Josiah had gone off into the woods, the mothertold Tiny of this bit of a conversation, but of course she could notexplain about the dream. She knew no more what the boy's father haddreamed than you or I do, only she knew it was something curious andfanciful about the Beautiful Gate. 

Tiny listened with great interest to his mother's words, and he smiledas he kissed her when she had done speaking; and he said, "Wait tillthis evening, mother dear, and you shall see. "

And so she waited till the evening. 

When they were gathered around the kitchen-fire at night, Tiny took downthe harp that hung on the kitchen wall. 

It had hung there ever since the day that Tiny was born. A poor oldpilgrim gave it on that very day to Josiah in exchange for a loaf ofbread. By that I do not mean that Josiah sold the loaf to the poor oldhungry pilgrim. Josiah was too charitable to make a trade with abeggar. But the stranger said this strange thing to Josiah:--"I am nearto death--I shall sing no more--I am going home. Keep my harp for meuntil a singer asks you for it, and promises you that he will sing untothe Lord a New Song. Give it to _him_; but be sure before you do sothat he is worthy to sing the song unto the Lord. "

So Josiah had taken the harp home with him, and hung it on the wall, asI said, on the day that Tiny was born. And he waited for the coming ofthe poet who should have that wondrous song to sing. 

The father, when he saw what it was the boy would do, made a little moveas if he would prevent him; but the mother playfully caught the oldman's hand, and held it in hers, while she said aloud, "Only one song, Tiny. Your father's rest was disturbed last night--so get through withit as quickly as you can. "

At these last words the old man looked well pleased, for he fancied thathis wife agreed with him, because he would not yet allow himself tobelieve that it was for his boy Tiny that the old pilgrim left the harp. 

And yet never was a sweeter voice than that of the young singer--oldJosiah acknowledged that to himself, and old Josiah knew--he was a judgeof such things, for all his life he had been singing songs in his heart. 

Yes! though you would never have imagined such a thing, that is, if youare in the habit of judging folks from their outward appearance--he hadsuch a rough, wrinkled face, brown with freckles and tan, such coarse, shaggy grey hair, and such a short, crooked, awkward figure, you neverwould have guessed what songs he was for ever singing in his heart withhis inward voice--they were songs which worldly people would neverhear--only God and the angels heard them. Only God and the holyangels!--for as to Kitty, though she was Josiah's best earthly friend, though she knew he was such an excellent man, though she believed thatthere was not a better man than he in all the world, though year by yearhe had been growing lovelier and lovelier in her eyes--yes! though hishair, of course, became rougher and greyer, and his figure more bent, and his hands harder, and his teeth were nearly all gone!--growinglovelier because of his excellence, which increased with age as goodwine does--still even she, who knew him better than any person on earth, even she knew him so little that she never so much as dreamed that thiswonderful voice of Tiny's was but the echo of what had been going on inJosiah's heart and mind ever since he was himself a child!

It was because he understood all this so very well that Josiah wastroubled when he thought about his son. 

But to go back to the singer in the chimney-corner. Tiny sat alone onhis side of the fire-place, in the little chair fashioned out of knottedtwigs of oak which his father had made for him long ago. Opposite himwere the old folks--the father with his arms folded on his broad chest, the mother knitting beside him, now and then casting a sidelong glanceat the old man to see how it went with him. 

Wonderful was that song which Tiny sung!

Even the winter wind seemed hushing its voice to hear it, and throughthe little windows looked the astonished moon. 

Josiah lifted up his eyes in great amazement as he heard it, as if hehad altogether lost himself. It was nothing like his dream that Tinysang, though to be sure it was all about a Beautiful Gate. 

Altogether about the Beautiful Gate! and of the young poet, who, passingthrough it, went his way into the great Temple of the World, singing hisgreat songs, borne like a conqueror with a golden canopy carried overhim, and a golden crown upon his head! Riding upon a white horsesplendidly caparisoned, and crowds of people strewing multitudes offlowers before him! And of the lady who placed the victor's crown uponhis head! She was by his side, more beautiful than any dream, rejoicingin his triumph, and leading him on towards her father's palace, theBeautiful Pearl Gates of which were thrown wide open, and the kinghimself with a bare head stood there on foot, to welcome the poet to thegreat feast. 

With this the song ended, and with a grand sweep of the silver stringsTiny gently arose, and hung the harp against the wall, and sat downagain with folded hands and blushing cheek, half frightened, now whenall was over, to think what he had done. The fire had vanished from hiseyes, and the red glow of his cheek went following after; and if you hadgone into Josiah's kitchen just then, you never would have guessed that_he_ was the enchanter who had been raising such a storm of splendidmusic. 

At first the old man could not speak--tears choked his words. "Ahem, "said he once or twice, and he cleared his voice with the intention ofspeaking; but for a long time no words followed. At length he said, shaking his head, --"It isn't like what I dreamed--it isn't like what Idreamed;" and one would have supposed that the old man felt himselfguilty of a sin by the way he looked at Tiny, it was with so very sad alook. 

"But beautifuller, " said the mother, "beautifuller, isn't it, Josiah!"

"Yes, " answered Josiah; but still he spoke as if he had some secretmisgiving--as if he were not quite sure that the beauty of the song hada right to do away with the sadness of his dream. 

"But, " said Tiny, timidly, yet as if determined that he would have thematter quite settled now and for ever--"_am_ I a singer, father? _am_ Ia poet?"

Slowly came the answer--but it actually came, "Yes, " with a broken voiceand troubled look, and then the old man buried his face in his hands, asif he had pronounced some dreadful doom upon his only son. 

"Then, " said Tiny boldly, rising from his seat, "I must go into theworld. It says it needs me; and father, shall _your_ son hide himselfwhen any one in need calls to him for help? I never would have gone, father, if you and mother had not said that I was a singer and a poet. For you I know would never deceive me; and I made a vow that if ever atime came when you should say that to me, then I would go. But this ismy home, father and mother; I shall never get another. The wide worldcould not give me one. It is not rich enough to build me a home likethis. "

"Don't speak in that way, " said the old man; and he turned away thatTiny should not see his face, and he bent his head upon the back of hischair. 

Presently Tiny went softly up to him and laid his hand upon Josiah'sarm, and his voice trembled while he said, "Dear father, are you angrywith me?"

"No, Tiny, " said Josiah; "but what are you going to do with the world?You! . .. My poor boy. "

"Good!" said Tiny with a loud, courageous voice--as if he were prepared, single handed, to fight all the evil there was in the world--"Good, father, or I would not have dared to take the pilgrim's harp down fromthe wall. I will sing, " continued he still more hopefully, and lookingup smiling into the old man's face--"I will sing for the sick and theweary, and cheer them; I will tell the people that God smiles on patientlabour, and has a reward in store for the faithful, better than gold andrubies. I will get money for my songs, and feed the hungry; I willcomfort the afflicted; I will--"

"But, " said Josiah solemnly, lifting his head from the back of thechair, and looking at Tiny as if he would read every thought there wasin the boy's heart, "What did all that mean about the Beautiful Gate?Ah, my son, you were thinking more of your own pride and glory, than ofthe miserable and the poor!"

"It was only to prove to you that I had a voice, and that I could sing, father, " answered Tiny. 

Long gazed Josiah upon the face of his son as he heard this. Then heclosed his eyes, and bent his head, and Tiny knew that he was praying. That was a solemn silence--you could have heard a pin drop on thekitchen floor. 

Presently the old man arose, and without speaking, went softly and tookthe harp down from the wall. "Take it, " said he, handing it to Tiny, "Take it--it is yours. Do what you will. The Lord direct your goings. "

"Without your blessing, father?" said Tiny, stepping back and foldinghis arms upon his breast. He would not take the harp. Then, with bothhands pressed on Tiny's head, the old man said, "May God bless you, myson. "

The old man's face was very calm then, and there was not a tear in hiseyes as he spoke; he had begun to hope again. And he turned away fromTiny to comfort his poor wife. 

"Many, many years we lived alone before our Tiny came, " said he, "and wewere very happy; and we will be very happy yet, though he is going away. He is our all; but if the world needs him he shall go and serve it. "Nothing more said Josiah, for his heart was full--too full for furtherspeech. 

Well, Tiny the singer went sailing down the river one bright morning, ona boat loaded with wood, which in that part of the country is calledlumber; his harp was on his arm, and the rest of his worldly goods uponhis back. 

Tiny sat upon the top of the lumber, the most valuable part of theship's load by far, though the seamen and the owner of the lumberthought him only a silly country lad, who was going down to the city, probably on a foolish errand. And Tiny looked at the banks of theriver, right and left, as they floated down it, and thought of all thesongs he would sing. 

All the first day it was of the poor he would help, of the desolatehearts he would cheer, of the weary lives he would encourage, that hethought; the world that had need of him should never find him hard ofhearing when it called to him for help. And much he wondered--the poetTiny sailing down the river towards the world, how it happened that theworld with all its mighty riches, and its hosts on hosts of helpers, should ever stand in need of him! But though he wondered, his joy wasnone the less that it had happened so. On the first night he dreamed ofpale faces growing rosy, and sad hearts becoming lighter, and wearyhands strengthened, all by his own efforts. The world that had need ofhim felt itself better off on account of his labours!

But on the second day of Tiny's journey other thoughts began to minglewith these. About his father and mother he thought, not in such a wayas they would have been glad to know, but proudly and loftily! Whatcould he do for them? Bring home a name that the world never mentionedexcept with praises and a blessing! And that thought made his cheekglow and his eyes flash, and at night he dreamed of a trumpeter shoutinghis name abroad, and going up the river to tell old Josiah how famoushis boy had become in the earth!

And the third day he dreamed, with his eyes wide open, the livelong day, of the Beautiful Gate, and the palace of Fame and Wealth to which itled! and he saw himself entering therein, and the multitude followinghim. He ate upon a throne, and wise men came with gifts, and offeredthem to him. Alas, poor Tiny! the world had already too many helpersthinking just such thoughts--it had need of no more coming with suchofferings as these. Would no one tell him so? Would no one tell himthat the new song to be sung unto our Lord was very different from this?

At the end of the third day, Tiny's journey was ended. .. And he waslanded in the world. .. Slowly the ship came sailing into harbour, andtook its place among a thousand other ships, and Tiny went ashore. 

It was about sunset that Tiny found himself in the street of the greatcity. The workmen were going home from their labour, he thought atfirst; but could it be a city full of workmen? he asked himself as thecrowd passed by him and he stood gazing on the poor. For he saw onlythe poor: now and then something dazzling and splendid went past, but ifhe turned again to discover what it was that made his eyes ache so withthe brightness, the strange sight was lost in the crowd, and all hecould see were pale faces, and hungry voices, and the half-clad forms ofmen, and women, and children. And then he said to himself with a groan, "The city is full of beggars. "

As he said that, another thought occurred to Tiny, and he unfastened hisharp, and touched the strings. But in the din and roar of the citywagons, and in the confusion of voices, for every one seemed to betalking at the top of his voice, what chance had that harp-player ofbeing heard? Still, though the crowd brushed past him as if there wasno sound whatever in the harp strings, and no power at all in the handthat struck them, Tiny kept on playing, and presently he began to sing. 

It was _that_ they wanted--the living human voice, that trembled andgrew strong again, that was sorrowful and joyous, that prayed and wept, and gave thanks, just as the human heart does! It was _that_ the peoplewanted; and so well did they know their want that the moment Tiny beganto sing, the crowd going past him, heard his voice. And the peoplegathered round him, and more than one said to himself with joy, "Ourbrother has come at last!"

They gathered around him--the poor, and lame, and sick, and blind;ragged children, weary men, desponding women, whose want and sorrowspoke from every look, and word, and dress. Closely they crowded aroundhim; and angry voices were hushed, and troubled hearts for the momentforgot their trouble, and the weary forgot that another day of toil wasbefore them. The pale woman nearest Tiny who held the little baby inher arms, felt its limbs growing colder and colder, and once she lookedunder her shawl and quickly laid her hand upon her darling's heart, butthough she knew then that the child was dead, still she stood theresmiling, and looking up towards heaven where Tiny's eyes so oftenlooked, because at that very moment he was singing of the Father inHeaven, whose house of many mansions is large enough for all the world. 

It was strange to see the effect of Tiny's song upon those people! Howbright their faces grew! kind words from a human heart are such anexcellent medicine--they make such astonishing cures! You would havethought, had you been passing by the crowd that gathered around Tiny, you would have thought an angel had been promising some good thing tothem. Whereas it was only this young Tiny, this country lad, who hadjourneyed from the shadow of the Great Forest, who was telling them of agood time surely coming!

When he had finished his song, Tiny would have put up his harp, and gonehis way, but that he could not do, because of the crowd. 

"Sing again!" the people cried, --the beggars and rich men together (itwas a long time since they had spoken with one voice). Did I tell youthat a number of rich men had gathered, like a sort of outer wall, around the crowd of poor people which stood next to Tiny?

"Sing again, " they cried; and loud and clear above the other voices saidone, "There is but a solitary singer in the world that sings in such astrain as that. And he, I thought, was far away. Can this be he?"

Then Tiny's heart leaped within him, hearing it, and he said to himself:"If my father and mother were but here to see it!" And he sang again--and still for the poor, and the weary, and the sick, and thefaint-hearted, until the street became as silent as a church where theminister is saying, "Glory be unto the Father. " And indeed it was justthen a sacred temple, where a sacred voice was preaching in a mostsacred cause. 

I'm sure you know by this time what the "cause" was? And while he sang, the rich men of the outer circle were busy among themselves, even whilethey listened, and presently the person who had before spoken, made hisway through the crowd, carrying a great purse filled with silver, and hesaid, "You are the poet himself--do with this what you think best. Wehave a long time been looking for you in the world. Come home with me, and dwell in my house, oh, Poet, I pray you. "

Tiny took the heavy purse, and looked at it, and from it to the people. 

Then said he--oh, what melody was in his voice, how sweet hiswords!--"None of you but are my friends--you are more--my brothers andsisters. Come and tell me how much you need. " As he spoke, he lookedat the woman who stood nearest him, with the dead baby in her arms. Hereyes met his, and she threw back the old, ragged shawl, and showed himher little child. "Give me, " said she, "only enough to bury it. I wantnothing for myself. I had nothing but my baby to care for. "

The poet bowed his head over the little one, and fast his tears fell onthe poor, pale face, and like pearls the tears shone on the soft, whitecheek, while he whispered in the ear of the woman, "Their angels doalways behold the face of Our Father. " And he gave her what she needed, and gently covered the baby's face again with the tattered shawl, andthe mother went away. 

Then a child came up and said--now this was a poor street beggar, remember, a boy whom people called _as bold as a thief_--he came andlooked at Tiny, and said gently, as if speaking to an elder brother whomhe loved and trusted: "My father and mother are dead; I have a littlebrother and sister at home, and they depend on me; I have been trying toget work, but no one believes my story. I would like to take a loaf ofbread home to them. "

And Tiny, looking at the boy, seemed to read his heart, and he said, laying his hand on the poor fellow's shoulder, "Be always as patient, and gentle, and believing as you are now, and you will have bread forthem and to spare, without fear. "

Then came an old, old man bending on his staff, and he spoke outsharply, as if he were half starved, and all he said was, "Bread!" andwith that he held out his hand as if all he had to do was to ask, inorder to get what he wanted. 

For a moment Tiny made him no answer, and some persons who had heard thedemand, and saw that Tiny gave him nothing, began to laugh. But at thatsound Tiny rebuked them with his look, and put his hand into the purse. 

The old man saw all this, and he said, "I am tired of begging, I amtired of saying, `for mercy's sake give to me, '--for people don't havemercy--they know nothing about being merciful, and they don't care formercy's sake. I don't beg of you, Mr Poet. I only ask you as if youwere my son, and that's all. Give me bread. I'm starving. "

And Tiny said, "For my dear father's sake take this--God forbid that _I_should ever be deaf when an old man with a wrinkled face and white hairspeaks to me. "

Afar off stood a young girl looking at the poet. Tiny saw her, and thatshe needed something of him, though she did not come and ask, and so hebeckoned to her. She came at that, and as she drew nearer he fanciedthat she had been weeping, and that her grief had kept her back. Shehad wept so violently that when Tiny spoke to her and said, "What isit?" she could not answer him. But at length, while he waited sopatiently, she made a great effort, and controlled herself and said, "Mymother!"

That was all she said--and Tiny asked no more. He knew that some greatgrief had fallen on her--that was all he needed to know; he laid hishand in hers, and turned away before she could thank him, but he leftwith her a word that he had spoken which had power to comfort her longafter the money he gave her was all gone--long after the day when herpoor mother had no more need for bread. "When my father and motherforsake me, then the Lord will lift me up. " That was what he whisperedto her as he left her. 

And thus he went through that crowd of miserable people, comforting themall. But it was remarkable how much more value the poor folks seemed toput upon his word than they did upon the money he gave them, much asthey stood in need of that! I wonder if you ever thought about thewonderful power there is in words?

At length, when the purse was empty, he stood alone in the midst of thecircle of rich men who had given him the silver to distribute as hewould. Then the man who handed him the purse went up and said to Tiny, "Poet, come home with me. You are come at last! the city ought to beilluminated--we have stood so long in need of you, expecting you. "

So Tiny, believing what the rich man said, went home with the stranger--and for a long time he abode in that house. 

And rich men feasted Tiny, and taught him to drink wine: and great menpraised him, and flattered him till he believed that their praise wasprecious above all things, and that he could not live without it! Wasnot that absurd? Nay, children, was not that most terrible, that ourdear Tiny should ever have been tempted to believe such wicked trash andfalsehood! He, too, who was to sing that sweet and holy New Song to theLord!

They surrounded him day and night, these rich, gay men, and these greatmen, and they fed upon the delicious thoughts he gave them, and theykept him in such a whirl of pleasure that he had no time to work for thepoor, and hardly any time to think of them--excepting at the dead ofnight, when he sometimes fancied or dreamed that the old pilgrim ownerof the harp had come, or would come quickly, and take it away from him. At these times poor Tiny would make excellent resolutions, but the nextday was sure to see them broken. He seemed no stronger when heattempted to keep them than a poor little bird who is determined that hewill be free, and so goes driving against the wires of his cage!

When Tiny spoke with his friend, as he sometimes did, about the planwith which he had come into the world, his friend always made him verypolite answers, and good promises--oh, yes, certainly he would do allthat _he_ could to help him on in such an excellent cause! But the factwas, he did everything to prevent him. I wonder if anybody else has gotany such friend in his heart, or in his house, as our Tiny found in hisvery first walk through that city street? If I knew of any one thathad, I should say, look out for him! Beware of him. 

And so Tiny lived, and presently it happened just as you would expect;his conscience troubled him no longer; he only sang such songs on feastdays, and holidays, and even in the church, as his companions liked; andhe became very well pleased with his employment! That was the veryworst of it. 

I shall tell you in a very few words what happened next. Tiny suddenlyfell ill of a very curious disease, which caused all his rich friends toforsake him, and he almost died of it. 

In those days his only helper was a poor young beggar girl--one of thosepersons whom he had relieved by his songs, and by the money hedistributed from the rich man's purse that happy day, --the little girlwho had wept so bitterly, and whose only word was, when he questionedher, --"My mother!"

He recovered from his disease in time, but all his old acquaintances hadforsaken him; and he must have felt their loss exceedingly, for now hehad an attack of a desperate complaint, which I pray you may neverhave!--called Despair--and Tiny crept away from the sight of all men, into a garret, and thought that he would die there. 

A garret at Home is a very different place from a garret in the World;and so our poet thought, when he compared this miserable, dismal placewith the little attic far, far away in his own father's cottage, wherehe was next-door neighbour to the swallows who slept in their little mudcabins under the cottage eaves!

Never in his life was Tiny so lonely. He had come to help the World, said he, talking to himself, and the World cared not half so much aboutit as it would about the doings of a wonderful "learned pig, " or theextraordinary spectacle of a man cutting profiles with his toes in blackpaper!

"Have you been all the while helping the World, and is this all the payyou get?" said the girl, his poor friend, who remembered what he haddone for her, when she was in her worst need. 

"Yes, " said Tiny; but there was no truth in what he said. He did notintend to speak falsely, however, --which proves the sad pass he hadarrived at; he did not even know when he was deceiving himself! Andwhen Tiny said, that "yes, " what do you suppose he thought of? Not ofall the precious time that he had wasted--not of the Pilgrim's Harp--notof the promises he had made his father--nor of the great hope of thepoor which he had no cruelly disappointed--but only of the evil fortunewhich had fallen on himself! This beggar girl to wait on him, insteadof the most beautiful lady in the world for a crown bearer! This garretfor a home, instead of a place at the king's table. And more fiercelythan ever raged that sickness called Despair. 

But at length his strength began to return to him a little, and then forthe first time poor Tiny discovered that he was blind. And all the daysand weeks that came and went were like one long, dark night. In thosedreadful days our singer had nothing to do but to think, and the littlebeggar girl had nothing to do but to beg; for Tiny's charity andgoodness of heart seemed to have all forsaken him, and one day in hisanger he drove her out of his garret, and bade her return no more, forthat the very thought of her was hateful to him. In doing this, Tinybrought a terrible calamity upon himself; he fell against his harp andbroke it. 

After that, while he sat pondering on the sad plight he was in, hungryand cold and blind, he suddenly started up. A new thought had come tohim. "I will go home to my father's house, " he said. "There is noother way for me. Oh, my mother!" and bitterly he wept as he pronouncedthat name, and thought how little like her tender and serene love wasthe love of the best of all the friends he had found in that great cityof the world. 

As he started up so quickly in a sort of frenzy, his foot struck againstthe broken harp, and instantly the instrument gave forth a wailingsound, that pierced the poet's heart. He lifted up the harp: alas! itwas _so_ broken he could do nothing with it; from his hands it fell backupon the floor where it had lain neglected, forgotten, so long. ButTiny's heart was now fairly awakened, and stooping to the floor, heraised the precious treasure again. "I will carry back the brokenfragments, " said he; "they shall go back to my father with me. The harpis his; I can do nothing more with it for ever. I have ruined it; Ihave done nothing for the world, as I promised him. A fine thing it isfor me to go back to him in this dreadful plight. But if he says to me, `Thou art no son of mine, ' I will say, `Father, I am no more _worthy_ tobe called thy son; make me thy hired servant--only pay me in love. '"

And so saying, Tiny began to descend from his attic. Carefully he wentdown the stairs, ready to ask help of the first person whose voice heshould hear. But he had groped his way as far as the street door, before he met a soul. As he stepped upon the threshold, and was aboutto move on into the street, a voice--a child's voice--said to him--

"I'm very hungry, sir. "

The patient tone of the speaker arrested Tiny's steps, and he pondered amoment. It was the hearts that belonged to voices like this, which hehad vowed to help! His own heart sunk within him at that thought. "Wretched soul that I am, " said he to himself, thinking of theopportunities which he had lost. But to the child he said--

"I'm blinder than a bat, and hungry, too. So I'm worse off than youare. Do you live about here?"

"Just round the corner, " said the little girl. 

"Is there a physician near here?" he asked next; for a now thought--anew hope, rather--had come into his heart. 

"Yes, sir--very near. I know where it is, " said the child. "I got himonce for my mother. "

"If you will lead me to him, " said Tiny, his voice broken as his heartwas, "I will do a good turn for you. You won't be the loser by it. Whotakes care of you?"

"Of me, sir?" asked the girl, as if surprised that he should think thatany one took care of her. "Nobody. I'm all alone. "

"Alone! alone!" repeated Tiny: "your hand is very little; you are a miteof a girl to be alone. "

"They're all dead but me, every one of 'em. Yes, sir, they are. "

"No mother?" said Tiny, with a choking voice--thinking of the kind heartand tender loving eyes away off in the lonely little cottage on theborder of the forest--"no mother, little girl? Was _that_ what yousaid?"

"Dead, " replied the child. 

"Did you love her?" asked Tiny, the poet, while his heart wept burningtears. 

The girl said not a word, but Tiny heard her sob, and held her handclose in his own, as though he would protect her, even if he were blind, while he said aloud--

"Lead me to the physician, little friend. "

Quietly and swiftly she led him, and as they went, Tiny never oncethought, What if any of the great folks who once courted and praised himshould see him led on foot through the streets by a little beggar girl, himself looking hardly more respectable than the poorest of all beggars!

"Shall I ring the door bell?" asked she, at length coming to a suddenhalt. 

"King it, " said he. 

But before she could do that the house door opened, and the physicianhimself appeared, prepared for a drive; his carriage was already inwaiting at the door. 

"Here he is, " exclaimed the girl; and at the same moment a gruff voicedemanded--

"What do you want, you two, eh? Speak quick, for I'm off. "

In one word Tiny told what it was he wanted. 

"Blind, eh?" said the doctor, stooping and looking into the pale face ofthe unhappy singer; "_born_ blind! I can do nothing for you. John!drive the horses away from that curb-stone. "

He stepped forward, as he spoke, as if about to leave the children, buthe stood still again the next minute, arrested by the sound of Tiny'sindignant voice. 

"Born blind!" the singer cried; "no more than you were, sir. If youknew how to use your eyes to any good purpose, you never would say sucha thing. Since I was ill I've been blind, but never a moment before. "

"Come into the house a minute, " said the doctor, who had been carefullystudying Tiny's face during the last few seconds. "Come in, and I'llsoon settle that point for you. "

"For yourself, you mean, " said Tiny, in an under tone, as he and thebeggar girl went in. 

"What's that you carry?" said the physician. "Lay down your pack for amoment. "

But Tiny would not do that. He had taken up his harp in much the samespirit as if it had been a cross, and he was determined never to lay itdown again until he came to his father's house. So he merely said, "Don't call it a pack; it was a harp once, but now it's only some bitsof wood and cord. "

"Broken!" said the doctor; and you would have been in doubt, if you hadheard him, as to whether he meant Tiny's harp or heart. "Broken! ah, . .. ;" and he seemed to get a little new light on the subject when helooked again into Tiny's face. "Ah, " he said again, and still morethoughtfully; "now! about those eyes. You went into a great rage justnow when I told you that you were born blind. On a closer examinationof them, I am still tempted to think that if you were not born blind, you never had the full use of your eyes. How are you going to prove tome that I'm mistaken? If you can prove that it came after yoursickness, "--he hesitated a little--"I'm not so sure but that somethingmight be done for you. "

At that Tiny's anger was not much lessened; and he was in doubt as towhat he should do, until the child said to him, "Sing to him about yourmother. " The words had the effect of a broad ray of light streaminginto a dark and dismal place, and without another word Tiny began tosing. His voice was faint and broken; it never once rose into a highstrain of pride, as if he had his merits as a singer to support; he sungwith tears, and such pathos as singer never did before, of his Motherand her Love. By the words of his song he brought her there into thatvery room, with her good and pleasant looks, her loving eyes and tendersmile, so that they who heard could also behold her. He sung of allthat she had been to him in his childhood, of the brightness she made intheir home, of all that she had done for him, and concluded with theprayerful longing that his eyes might once more receive their sight, that so he might behold her. 

"The doctor is weeping, " whispered the little girl in Tiny's ear. 

It was a long time before the doctor spoke; but at length he arose andlaid some pieces of silver in Tiny's hand; and he said, "I cannot helpyou. But what you have to do is to go to the Beautiful Gate, and thereyou will find a physician famous for the cure of such cases as yours. True enough you weren't _born_ blind--far from it. I ask your pardonfor the mistake. I wish there were more blind in the way you were. Goyour way to the Beautiful Gate. "

As the doctor spoke he arose and walked quickly towards the door, andthe children followed him out. All at once Tiny recollected that theyhad yet one very important thing to learn, and he cried out--

"But, sir, which way shall we go in order to arrive at the BeautifulGate?"

Too late! while he spoke the doctor stepped into his carriage, thecoachman closed the door with a loud bang and drove away, and Tiny andthe little girl were left quite in the dark as to what they should donext. For a long time they stood still in perfect silence. At lastTiny said, "Lead the way, little girl, for I am blind and cannot see. Come! we will go on, if you have an idea that we shall ever come to theBEAUTIFUL GATE. "

"In all my life I never heard of it before, " said she sadly. 

"But I have, " cried Tiny, trying to keep his courage up by speakingbrave words. "Come on with me!" yet, in spite of his words, he heldfast to the girl's hand, and she led him down the street. 

Presently, towards nightfall, they came up to a crowd of people, a mobof men and boys who were quarrelling. 

Well did Tiny understand the angry sound; and, as for the girl walkingwith him, she trembled with fear, and said, "Shall we turn down thisstreet? They are having a terrible fight. I am afraid you will behurt. "

"Not I, " said Tiny. "Is the sun near setting?"

"It has set, " said the girl. 

"And does the red light shine on the men's faces?" asked the poet. 

"Yes, " answered the girl, wondering. 

"On the night when I first came into this city's streets it was so. Myharp was perfect then; but it was the voice, and not the other music, that the people eared for, when I sang. Wait now. "

The little girl obediently stood still, and all at once Tiny began tosing. None of his gay songs sung at feasts, and revels, or on holidays, but a song of peace, as grand and solemn as a psalm; and the quarrellingmen and boys stood still and listened, and, before the song was ended, the ringleaders of the fight had crept away in shame. Other voices thenbegan to shout in praise of the young stranger, who with a few simplewords had stilled their angry passions. "The brave fellow is blind, "said they; "we will do something good for him!" And one, and another, and another, cried out, "Come with us, and we will do you good. "

But instead of answering a word, Tiny went his way as if he were deaf asa post, as well as blind as a bat, and by his side, holding his handclose, went the little beggar girl. 

Until they came in the increasing darkness to a narrow, crooked lane, and met a woman who was running, crying, with a young child in her arms. "What is this?" asked Tiny. 

"A woman, pale as death, with a child in her arms, " said the girl. 

"Wait!" shouted Tiny, stopping just before the woman. His cry soastonished her that she stood, in an instant, as still as a statue. "What is it that you want?"

"Food! medicine! clothes! a home!" answered she, with a loud cry. 

"Give me the child--take this--get what you need, and I will wait herewith the little one, " said Tiny. 

Without a word the woman gave her child--it was a poor little cripple--into his arms; and then she went on to obey him; and softly on theevening air, in that damp, dismal lane, arose the songs which Tiny sangto soothe and comfort the poor little creature. And in his arms itslept, hushed by the melody, a slumber such as had not for a long timevisited his eyes. 

Wonderful singer! blessed songs! sung for a wretched sickly stranger, who could not even thank him! But you think they died away upon theair, those songs? that they did no other good than merely hushing ahungry child to sleep?

A student in an attic heard the song, and smiled, and murmured tohimself, "That is like having a long walk in in the woods, and hearingall the birds sing. "

A sick girl, who had writhed upon her bed in pain all the day, heard thegentle singing voice, and it was like a charm upon her--she lay restingin a sweet calm, and said, "Hark! it is an angel!" A blind old manstarted up from a troubled slumber, and smiled a happy smile that saidas plain as any voice, "It gives me back my youth, my children, and mycountry home;" and he smiled again and again, and listened at hiswindow, scarcely daring to breathe lest he should lose a single word. Ababy clad in rags, and sheltered from the cold with them, a baby in itscradle--what do you think that cradle was? as truly as you live, nothingbut a box such as a merchant packs his goods in! that baby, sleeping, heard it, and a light like sunshine spread over its pretty face. Athief skulking along in the shadow of the great high building, heardthat voice and was struck to the heart, and crept back to his den, anddid no wicked thing that night. A prisoner who was condemned to dieheard it in his cell near by, and he forgot his chains, and dreamed thathe was once more innocent and free--a boy playing with his mates, andloved and trusted by them. 

At length the mother of the crippled infant came back, and brought foodfor her child, and a warm blanket for it, and she, and Tiny, and thebeggar girl, Tiny's companion, ate their supper there upon the sidewalkof that dark, narrow lane, and then they went their separate ways--Tinyand his friend, taking the poor woman's blessing with them, going in onedirection, and the mother and her baby in another, but they all slept inthe street that night. 

The next morning by daybreak Tiny was again on his way down that samelong, narrow, dingy street, the little girl still walking by his side. Swiftly they walked, and in silence, like persons who are sure of theirdestination, and know that they are in the right way, though they hadnot said a word to each other on that subject since they set out in thepath. 

"What is that?" at length asked Tiny, stopping short in the street. 

"A tolling bell, " said the girl. 

"Do you see a funeral?"

"Yes; don't you?"

Tiny made no answer at first; at length he said, "Let us go into thechurchyard;" and he waited for the beggar girl to lead the way, whichshe did, and together they went in at the open churchyard gate. 

As they did so, a clergyman was thanking the friends who had kindly cometo help in burying the mother of orphan children. Tiny heard that word, and he said to the girl, whose name, I ought long ago to have told you, was Grace--he said, "Are there many friends with the children?"

"No, " she answered sadly. 

"Are the people poor?" he asked. 

"Yes, very poor, " said she. 

Then Tiny stepped forward when the clergyman had done speaking, andraised a Hymn for the Dead, and a prayer to the Father of thefatherless. 

When he had made an end, he stepped back again, and took the hand ofGrace, and walked away with her in the deep silence, for everybody inthe churchyard was weeping. But as they went through the gate thesilence was broken, and Tiny heard the clergyman saying, "Weep nolonger, children; my house shall be your home, my wife shall be yourmother. Come, let us go back to our home. "

And Grace and Tiny went their way. On, and on, and on, through thenarrow filthy street, out into the open country, --through a desert, anda forest; and it seemed as if poor Tiny would sing his very life away. For wherever those appeared who seemed to need the voice of human pity, or brotherly love, or any act of charity, the voice and Hand of Tinywere upraised. And every hour, whichever way he went, he found THEWORLD HAD NEED OF HIM!

They had no better guide than that with which they set out on theirsearch for the BEAUTIFUL GATE. But Tiny's heart was opened, and it ledhim wherever there was misery, and want, and sin, and grief; and flowersgrew up in the path he trod, and sparkling springs burst forth in desertplaces. 

And then as to his blindness. 

Fast he held by the hand of the beggar girl as they went on their waytogether, but the film was withdrawing from his eye-balls. When heturned them up towards the heaven, if they could not yet discern that, they could get a glimpse of the earth! So he said within himself, "Surely we are in the right way; we shall yet come to the BeautifulGate, and I shall have my sight again. Then will I hasten to myfather's house, and when all is forgiven me, I will say to my mother, Receive this child I bring thee for a daughter, for she has been myguide through a weary way; and I know that my mother will love my littlesister Grace. "

"And what then?" asked a voice in Tiny's soul, "_What_ then wilt thoudo?"

"Labour till I die!" exclaimed Tiny aloud, with flashing eyes. 

"But for what, Poet, wilt thou labour?"

"FOR THE POOR WORLD THAT NEEDS ME, " bravely cried he with a mightyvoice. 

"Ah, " whispered something faintly in his ear, with a taunting voice thatpierced his heart like a sharp sword--"Ah, you said that once before;and fine work you made of it!"

Tiny made no answer to this taunt, with words, but with all the strengthof his great poet mind he cried again, "For the poor world that needsme!" and the vow was registered in Heaven, and angels were sent tostrengthen him in that determination--him who was to sing the New Songto the Lord. 

A long way further Grace and Tiny walked together on their journey; theywalked in silence, thinking so fast that, without knowing it, they werealmost on a run in the attempt their feet were making to keep pace withtheir thoughts. At length Grace broke the silence with a sudden cry--

"Oh, Tiny! what is this?"

Tiny looked up at the sound of her voice, and then he stood stock stillas if he were turned to stone. 

"Oh, Tiny! can you see?" again exclaimed Grace, who was watching hercompanion's face in a great wonder; it became so changed all at once. "Oh, Tiny, Tiny, can you see?" she cried again, in terror, for he didnot answer her, but grew paler and paler, swaying to and fro like a reedin the wind, until he fell like one dead upon the ground, saying--"Myhome! my home! and the Beautiful Gate is here!"

Just then an old man came slowly from the forest, near to which they hadcome in their journey. His head was bent, he moved slowly like one introubled thought, and as he walked he said to himself, "Long have Itoiled, bringing these forest trees into this shape; and people knowwhat I have done--of their own free will they call it a Beautiful Gate. But oh, if I could only find the blind one lying before it, ready to becarried through it to his mother! then, indeed, it would be beautiful tome. Oh Tiny! oh my child, when wilt thou return from thy longwanderings?"

"Please, sir, " said a child's voice--it was the voice of our littleGrace, you know--"please, sir, will you come and help me?" and she ranback to the place where Tiny lay. 

Swiftly as a bird on wing went Josiah with the child. Without a word helifted up the senseless Poet and the Broken Harp; and with the preciousburden passed on through the Beautiful Gate of the Forest, into theCottage Home--Grace following him!

Once more the Broken Harp hung on the kitchen wall--no longer broken. Once more the swallows and the poet slept side by side, in theircomfortable nests. Once more old Kitty's eyes grew bright. Once moreJosiah smiled. Again a singing voice went echoing through the world, working miracles of good. Rich men heard it and opened their purses. Proud men heard it and grew humble. Angry voices heard it and grewsoft. Wicked spirits heard it and grew beautiful in charities. Thesick, and sad, and desolate heard it and were at peace. Mourners heardit and rejoiced. The songs that voice sang, echoed through thechurches, through the streets; and by ten thousand thousand firesidesthey were sung again and yet again. But all the while the great heart, the mighty, loving human heart from which they came, was nestled in thatlittle nest of home on the border of the forest, far away from all theworld's temptations, in the safe shelter of a household's love. 

STORY FOUR, CHAPTER 1. 

THE CHIMAERA, BY N. HAWTHORNE. 

Once in the old, old times (for all the strange things which I tell youabout happened long before anybody can remember), a fountain gushed outof a hill-side in the marvellous land of Greece; and, for aught I know, after so many thousand years, it is still gushing out of the veryself-same spot. At any rate, there was the pleasant fountain wellingfreshly forth and sparkling adown the hillside, in the golden sunset, when a handsome young man named Bellerophon drew near its margin. Inhis hand he held a bridle, studded with brilliant gems, and adorned witha golden bit. Seeing an old man, and another of middle age, and alittle boy, near the fountain, and like wise a maiden, who was dippingup some of the water in a pitcher, he paused, and begged that he mightrefresh himself with a draught. 

"This is very delicious water, " he said to the maiden, as he rinsed andfilled her pitcher, after drinking out of it. "Will you be kind enoughto tell me whether the fountain has any name?"

"Yes; it is called the Fountain of Pirene, " answered the maiden; andthen she added, "My grandmother has told me that this clear fountain wasonce a beautiful woman, and when her son was killed by the arrows of thehuntress Diana, she melted all away into tears. And so the water, whichyou find so cool and sweet, is the sorrow of that poor mother's heart!"

"I should not have dreamed, " observed the young stranger, "that so cleara well-spring, with its gush and gurgle, and its cheery dance out of theshade into the sunlight, had so much as one tear-drop in its bosom! Andthis, then, is Pirene? I thank you, pretty maiden, for telling me itsname. I have come from a far-away country to find this very spot. "

A middle-aged country fellow (he had driven his cow to drink out of thespring) stared hard at young Bellerophon, and at the handsome bridlewhich he carried in his hand. 

"The water-courses must be getting low, friend, in your part of theworld, " remarked he, "if you come so far only to find the Fountain ofPirene. But, pray, have you lost a horse? I see you carry the bridlein your hand; and a very pretty one it is, with that double row ofbright stones upon it. If the horse was as fine as the bridle, you aremuch to be pitied for losing him. "

"I have lost no horse, " said Bellerophon, with a smile. "But I happento be seeking a very famous one, which, as wise people have informed me, must be found hereabouts, if anywhere. Do you know whether the wingedhorse Pegasus still haunts the Fountain of Pirene, as he used to do, inyour forefathers' days?"

But then the country fellow laughed. 

Some of you, my little friends, have probably heard that this Pegasuswas a snow-white steed, with beautiful silvery wings, who spent most ofhis time on the summit of Mount Helicon. He was as wild, and as swift, and as buoyant, in his flight through the air, as any eagle that eversoared into the clouds. There was nothing else like him in the world. He had no mate; he had never been backed or bridled by a master; and, for many a long year, he led a solitary and a happy life. 

Oh, how fine a thing it is to be a winged horse! Sleeping at night, ashe did, on a lofty mountain-top, and passing the greater part of the dayin the air, Pegasus seemed hardly to be a creature of the earth. Whenever he was seen, up very high above people's heads, with thesunshine on his silvery wings, you would have thought that he belongedto the sky, and that, skimming a little too low, he had got astray amongour mists and vapours, and was seeking his way back again. It was verypretty to behold him plunge into the fleecy bosom of a bright cloud, andbe lost in it for a moment or two, and then break forth from the otherside; or, in a sullen rain-storm, when there was a grey pavement ofclouds over the whole sky, it would sometimes happen that the wingedhorse descended right through it, and the glad light of the upper regionwould gleam after him. In another instant, it is true, both Pegasus andthe pleasant light would be gone away together. But any one that wasfortunate enough to see this wondrous spectacle felt cheerful the wholeday afterwards, and as much longer as the storm lasted. 

In the summer time, and in the beautifullest of weather, Pegasus oftenalighted on the solid earth, and, closing his silvery wings, wouldgallop over hill and dale for pastime, as fleetly as the wind. Oftenerthan in any other place, he had been seen near the Fountain of Pirene, drinking the delicious water, or rolling himself upon the soft grass ofthe margin. Sometimes, too (but Pegasus was very dainty in his food), he would crop a few of the clover-blossoms that happened to be thesweetest. 

To the Fountain of Pirene, therefore, people's great-grandfathers hadbeen in the habit of going (as long as they were youthful, and retainedtheir faith in winged horses), in hopes of getting a glimpse at thebeautiful Pegasus. But, of late years, he had been very seldom seen. Indeed, there were many of the country folks, dwelling within half anhour's walk of the fountain, who had never beheld Pegasus, and did notbelieve that there was any such creature in existence. The countryfellow to whom Bellerophon was speaking chanced to be one of thoseincredulous persons. 

And that was the reason why he laughed. 

"Pegasus, indeed!" cried he, turning up his nose as high as such a flatnose could be turned up, "Pegasus, indeed! A winged horse, truly! Why, friend, are you in your senses? Of what use would wings be to a horse?Could he drag the plough so well, think you? To be sure, there might bea little saving in the expense of shoes; but then, how would a man liketo see his horse flying out of the stable window?--yes; or whisking himup above the clouds, when he only wanted to ride to mill! No, no! Idon't believe in Pegasus. There never was such a ridiculous kind of ahorse-fowl made!"

"I have some reason to think otherwise, " said Bellerophon, quietly. 

And then he turned to an old, grey man who was leaning on a staff, andlistening very attentively, with his head stretched forward, and onehand at his ear, because for the last twenty years he had been gettingrather deaf. 

"And what say you, venerable sir?" inquired he. "In your younger days, I should imagine you must frequently have seen the winged steed!"

"Ah, young stranger, my memory is very poor!" said the aged man. "WhenI was a lad, if I remember rightly, I used to believe there was such ahorse, and so did everybody else. But, now-a-days, I hardly know whatto think, and very seldom think about the winged horse at all. If Iever saw the creature, it was a long, long while ago; and, to tell youthe truth, I doubt whether I ever did see him. One day, to be sure, when I was quite a youth, I remember seeing some hoof-tramps round aboutthe brink of the fountain. Pegasus might have made those hoof-marks;and so might some other horse. "

"And have you never seen him, my fair maiden?" asked Bellerophon of thegirl, who stood with the pitcher on her head, while this talk went on. "You certainly could see Pegasus if anybody can, for your eyes are verybright. "

"Once I thought I saw him, " replied the maiden, with a smile and ablush. "It was either Pegasus, or a large white bird, a very great wayup in the air. And one other time, as I was coming to the fountain withmy pitcher, I heard a neigh. Oh, such a brisk and melodious neigh asthat was! My very heart leaped with delight at the sound. But itstartled me, nevertheless; so that I ran home without filling mypitcher. "

"That was truly a pity!" said Bellerophon. 

And he turned to the child, whom I mentioned at the beginning of thestory, and who was gazing at him, as children are apt to gaze atstrangers, with his rosy mouth wide open. 

"Well, my little fellow, " cried Bellerophon, playfully pulling one ofhis curls, "I suppose you have often seen the winged horse. "

"That I have, " answered the child very readily. "I saw him yesterday, and many times before. "

"You are a fine little man!" said Bellerophon, drawing the child closerto him. "Come, tell me all about it. "

"Why, " replied the child, "I often come here to sail little boats in thefountain, and to gather pretty pebbles out of its basin. And sometimeswhen I look down into the water, I see the image of the winged horse, inthe picture of the sky that is there. I wish he would come down andtake me on his back, and let me ride him up to the moon! But, if I somuch as stir to look at him, he flies far away out of sight. "

And Bellerophon put his faith in the child, who had seen the image ofPegasus in the water, and in the maiden, who had heard him neigh somelodiously, rather than in the middle-aged clown, who believed only incart-horses, or in the old man, who had forgotten the beautiful thingsof his youth. 

Therefore he haunted about the Fountain of Pirene for a great many daysafterwards. He kept continually on the watch, looking upward at thesky, or else down into the water, hoping for ever that he should seeeither the reflected image of the winged horse, or the marvellousreality. He held the bridle, with its bright gems and golden bit, always ready in his hand. The rustic people, who dwelt in theneighbourhood, and drove their cattle to the fountain to drink, wouldoften laugh at poor Bellerophon, and sometimes take him pretty severelyto task. They told him that an able-bodied young man, like himself, ought to have better business than to be wasting his time in such anidle pursuit. They offered to sell him a horse, if he wanted one; andwhen Bellerophon declined the purchase they tried to drive a bargainwith him for his fine bridle. 

Even the country boys thought him so very foolish, that they used tohave a great deal of sport about him; and were rude enough not to care afig, although Bellerophon saw and heard it. One little urchin, forexample, would play Pegasus, and cut the oddest imaginable capers, byway of flying, while one of his schoolfellows would scamper after him, holding forth a twist of bulrushes, which was intended to representBellerophon's ornamented bridle. But the gentle child, who had seen thepicture of Pegasus in the water, comforted the young stranger more thanall the naughty boys could torment him. The dear little fellow, in hisplay-hours, often sat down beside him, and, without speaking a word, would look down into the fountain and up towards the sky, with soinnocent a faith that Bellerophon could not help feeling encouraged. 

Now you will, perhaps, wish to be told why it was that Bellerophon hadundertaken to catch the winged horse. And we shall find no betteropportunity to speak about this matter than while he is waiting forPegasus to appear. 

If I were to relate the whole of Bellerophon's previous adventures, theymight easily grow into a very long story. It will be quite enough tosay, that, in a certain country of Asia, a terrible monster, called aChimaera, had made its appearance, and was doing more mischief thancould be talked about between now and sunset. According to the bestaccounts which I have been able to obtain, this Chimaera was nearly, ifnot quite, the ugliest and most poisonous creature, and the strangestand unaccountablest, and the hardest to fight with, and the mostdifficult to run away from, that ever came out of the earth's inside. It had a tail like a boa-constrictor; its body was like I do not carewhat; and it had three separate heads, one of which was a lion's, thesecond a goat's, and the third an abominably great snake's. And a hotblast of fire came flaming out of each of its three mouths! Being anearthly monster, I doubt whether it had any wings; but, wings or no, itran like a goat and a lion, and wriggled along like a serpent, and thuscontrived to make about as much speed as all three together. 

Oh, the mischief, and mischief, and mischief, that this naughty creaturedid! With its flaming breath, it could set a forest on fire, or burn upa field of grain, or, for that matter, a village, with all its fencesand houses. It laid waste the whole country round about, and used toeat up people and animals alive, and cook them afterwards in the burningoven of its stomach. Mercy on us, little children, I hope neither younor I will ever happen to meet a Chimaera!

While the hateful beast (if a beast we can anywise call it) was doingall these horrible things, it so chanced that Bellerophon came to thatpart of the world, on a visit to the king. The king's name was Iobates, and Lycia was the country which he ruled over. Bellerophon was one ofthe bravest youths in the world, and desired nothing so much as to dosome valiant and beneficent deed, such as would make all mankind admireand love him. In those days, the only way for a young man todistinguish himself was by fighting battles, either with the enemies ofhis country, or with wicked giants, or with troublesome dragons, or withwild beasts, when he could find nothing more dangerous to encounter. King Iobates, perceiving the courage of his youthful visitor, proposedto him to go and fight the Chimaera, which everybody else was afraid of, and which, unless it should be soon killed, was likely to convert Lyciainto a desert. Bellerophon hesitated not a moment, but assured the kingthat he would either slay this dreaded Chimaera, or perish in theattempt. 

But, in the first place, as the monster was so prodigiously swift, hebethought himself that he should never win the victory by fighting onfoot. The wisest thing he could do, therefore, was to get the very bestand fleetest horse that could anywhere be found. And what other horse, in all the world, was half so fleet as the marvellous horse Pegasus, whohad wings as well as legs, and was even more active in the air than onthe earth? To be sure, a great many people denied that there was anysuch horse with wings, and said that the stories about him were allpoetry and nonsense. But, wonderful as it appeared, Bellerophonbelieved that Pegasus was a real steed, and hoped that he himself mightbe fortunate enough to find him; and, once fairly mounted on his back, he would be able to fight the Chimaera at better advantage. 

And this was the purpose with which he had travelled from Lycia toGreece, and had brought the beautifully ornamented bridle in his hand. It was an enchanted bridle. If he could only succeed in putting thegolden bit into the mouth of Pegasus, the winged horse would besubmissive, and would own Bellerophon for his master, and flywhithersoever he might choose to turn the rein. 

But, indeed, it was a weary and anxious time, while Bellerophon waitedand waited for Pegasus, in hopes that he would come and drink at theFountain of Pirene. He was afraid lest King Iobates should imagine thathe had fled from the Chimaera. It pained him, too, to think how muchmischief the monster was doing, while he himself, instead of fightingwith it, was compelled to sit idly poring over the bright waters ofPirene, as they gushed out of the sparkling sand. And as Pegasus hadcome thither so seldom, in these latter days, and scarcely alightedthere more than once in a lifetime, Bellerophon feared that he mightgrow an old man, and have no strength left in his arms nor courage inhis heart, before the winged horse would appear. Oh, how heavily passesthe time while an adventurous youth is yearning to do his part in life, and to gather in the harvest of his renown! How hard a lesson it is towait! Our life is brief, and how much of it is spent in teaching usonly this!

Well was it for Bellerophon that the gentle child had grown so fond ofhim, and was never weary of keeping him company. Every morning thechild gave him a new hope to put in his bosom, instead of yesterday'swithered one. 

"Dear Bellerophon, " he would cry, looking up hopefully into his face, "Ithink we shall see Pegasus to-day!"

And, at length, if it had not been for the little boy's unwaveringfaith, Bellerophon would have given up all hope, and would have goneback to Lycia, and have done his best to slay the Chimaera without thehelp of his winged horse. And in that case poor Bellerophon would atleast have been terribly scorched by the creature's breath, and wouldmost probably have been killed and devoured. Nobody should ever try tofight an earth-born Chimaera, unless he can first get upon the back ofan aerial steed. 

One morning the child spoke to Bellerophon even more hopefully thanusual. 

"Dear, dear Bellerophon, " cried he, "I know not why it is, but I feel asif we should certainly see Pegasus to-day!"

And all that day he would not stir a step from Bellerophon's side; sothey ate a crust of bread together, and drank some of the water of thefountain. In the afternoon, there they sat, and Bellerophon had thrownhis arm around the child, who likewise had put one of his little handsinto Bellerophon's. The latter was lost in his own thoughts, and wasfixing his eyes vacantly on the trunks of the trees that overshadowedthe fountain, and on the grape vines that clambered up among theirbranches. But the gentle child was gazing down into the water. He wasgrieved, for Bellerophon's sake, that the hope of another day should bedeceived like so many before it; and two or three quiet tear-drops fellfrom his eyes, and mingled with what were said to be the many tears ofPirene, when she wept for her slain children. 

But, when he least thought of it, Bellerophon felt the pressure of thechild's little hand, and heard a soft, almost breathless whisper. 

"See there, dear Bellerophon! There is an image in the water!"

The young man looked down into the dimpling mirror of the fountain, andsaw what he took to be the reflection of the bird, which seemed to beflying at a great height in the air, with a gleam of sunshine on itssnowy or silvery wings. 

"What a splendid bird it must be!" said he. "And how very large itlooks, though it must really be flying higher than the clouds!"

"It makes me tremble!" whispered the child. "I am afraid to look upinto the air! It is very beautiful, and yet I dare only look at itsimage in the water. Dear Bellerophon, do you not see that it is nobird? It is the winged horse Pegasus!"

Bellerophon's heart began to throb! He gazed keenly upward, but couldnot see the winged creature, whether bird or horse, because, just then, it had plunged into the fleecy depths of a summer cloud. It was but amoment, however, before the object re-appeared, sinking lightly down outof the cloud, although still at a vast distance from the earth. Bellerophon caught the child in his arms, and shrunk back with him, sothat they were both hidden among the thick shrubbery which grew allaround the fountain. Not that he was afraid of any harm, but he dreadedlest, if Pegasus caught a glimpse of them, he would fly far away, andalight in some inaccessible mountain-top. For it was really the wingedhorse. After they had expected him so long, he was coming to quench histhirst with the water of Pirene. 

Nearer and nearer came the aerial wonder, flying in great circles, asyou may have seen a dove when about to alight. Downward came Pegasus, in those wide, sweeping circles, which grew narrower and narrower still, as he gradually approached the earth. 

At length--not that he was weary, but only idle and luxurious--Pegasusfolded his wings, and lay down on the soft green turf. But, being toofull of aerial life to remain quiet for many moments together, he soonrolled over on his back, with his four slender legs in the air. It wasbeautiful to see him, this one solitary creature, whose mate had neverbeen created, but who needed no companion, and, living a great manyhundred years, was as happy as the centuries were long. The more he didsuch things as mortal horses are accustomed to do, the less earthly andthe more wonderful he seemed. Bellerophon and the child almost heldtheir breath, partly from a delightful awe, but still more because theydreaded lest the slightest stir or murmur should send him up, with thespeed of an arrow-flight, into the furthest blue of the sky. 

Finally, when he had had enough of rolling over and over, Pegasus turnedhimself about, and, indolently, like any other horse, put out hisfore-legs, in order to rise from the ground; and Bellerophon, who hadguessed that he would do so, darted suddenly from the thicket, andleaped astride on his back. 

Yes, there he sat, on the back of the winged horse!

But what a bound did Pegasus make, when, for the first time, he felt theweight of a mortal man upon his loins! A bound, indeed! Before he hadtime to draw a breath, Bellerophon found himself five hundred feetaloft, and still shooting upward, while the winged horse snorted andtrembled with terror and anger. Upward he went, up, up, up, until heplunged into the cold, misty bosom of a cloud, at which only a littlewhile before Bellerophon had been gazing and fancying it a very pleasantspot. Then again, out of the heart of the cloud, Pegasus shot down likea thunder-bolt, as if he meant to dash both himself and his riderheadlong against a rock. Then he went through about a thousand of thewildest caprioles that had ever been performed either by a bird or ahorse. 

I cannot tell you half that he did. He skimmed straightforward, andsideways, and backward. He reared himself erect, with his fore-legs ona wreath of mist, and his hind-legs on nothing at all. He flung out hisheels behind, and put down his head between his legs, with his wingspointing right upward. At about two miles' height above the earth, heturned a somersault, so that Bellerophon's heels were where his headshould have been, and he seemed to look down into the sky, instead ofup. He twisted his head about, and, looking Bellerophon in the face, with fire flashing from his eyes, made a terrible attempt to bite him. He fluttered his pinions so wildly that one of the silver feathers wasshaken out, and floating earthward, was picked up by the child, who keptit as long as he lived, in memory of Pegasus and Bellerophon. 

But the latter (who, as you may judge, was as good a horseman as evergalloped) had been watching his opportunity, and at last clapped thegolden bit of the enchanted bridle between the winged steed's jaws. Nosooner was this done, than Pegasus became as manageable as if he hadtaken food, all his life, out of Bellerophon's hand. To speak what Ireally feel, it was almost a sadness to see so wild a creature growsuddenly so tame. And Pegasus seemed to feel it so likewise. He lookedround to Bellerophon, with the tears in his beautiful eyes, instead ofthe fire that so recently flashed from them. But when Bellerophonpatted his head, and spoke a few authoritative, yet kind and soothingwords, another look came into the eyes of Pegasus; for he was glad atheart, after so many lonely centuries, to have found a companion and amaster. 

Thus it always is with winged horses, and with all such wild andsolitary creatures. If you can catch and overcome them, it is thesurest way to win their love. 

While Pegasus had been doing his utmost to shake Bellerophon off hisback, he had flown a very long distance, and they had come within sightof a lofty mountain by the time the bit was in his mouth. Bellerophonhad seen this mountain before, and knew it to be Helicon, on the summitof which was the winged horse's abode. Thither (after looking gentlyinto his rider's face, as if to ask leave) Pegasus now flew, and, alighting, waited patiently until Bellerophon should please to dismount. The young man accordingly leaped from his steed's back, but still heldhim fast by the bridle. Meeting his eyes, however, he was so affectedby the gentleness of his aspect, and by his beauty, and by the thoughtof the free life which Pegasus had heretofore lived, that he could notbear to keep him a prisoner, if he really desired his liberty. 

Obeying this generous impulse, he slipped the enchanted bridle off thehead of Pegasus, and took the bit from his mouth. 

"Leave me, Pegasus!" said he. "Either leave me, or love me. "

In an instant the winged horse shot almost out of sight, soaringstraight upward from the summit of Mount Helicon. Being long aftersunset, it was now twilight on the mountain-top, and dusky evening overall the country round about. But Pegasus flew so high that he overtookthe departed day, and was bathed in the upper radiance of the sun. Ascending higher and higher, he looked like a bright speck, and at lastcould no longer be seen in the hollow waste of the sky. And Bellerophonwas afraid that he should never behold him more; but, while he waslamenting his own folly, the bright speck re-appeared, and drew nearerand nearer, until it descended lower than the sunshine; and, behold, Pegasus had come back! After this trial, there was no more fear of thewinged horse's making his escape. He and Bellerophon were friends, andput loving faith in one another. 

That night they lay down and slept together, with Bellerophon's armabout the neck of Pegasus, not as a caution, but for kindness; and theyawoke at peep of day, and bade one another good-morning, each in his ownlanguage. 

In this manner, Bellerophon and the wondrous steed spent several days, and grew better acquainted and fonder of each other all the time. Theywent on long aerial journeys, and sometimes ascended so high that theearth looked hardly bigger than--the moon. They visited distantcountries and amazed the inhabitants, who thought that the beautifulyoung man, on the back of the winged horse, must have come down out ofthe sky. A thousand miles a day was no more than an easy space for thefleet Pegasus to pass over. Bellerophon was delighted with this kind oflife, and would have liked nothing better than to live always in thesame way, aloft in the clear atmosphere; for it was always sunny weatherup there, however cheerless and rainy it might be in the lower region. But he could not forget the horrible Chimaera which he had promised KingIobates to slay. So at last, when he had become well accustomed tofeats of horsemanship in the air, could manage Pegasus with the leastmotion of his hand, and had taught him to obey his voice, he determinedto attempt the performance of this perilous adventure. 

At daybreak, therefore, as soon as he unclosed his eyes, he gentlypinched the winged horse's ear, in order to arouse him. Pegasusimmediately started from the ground, and pranced about a quarter of amile aloft, and made a grand sweep around the mountain-top, by way ofshowing that he was wide awake, and ready for any kind of an excursion. During the whole of this little flight he uttered a loud, brisk, andmelodious neigh, and finally came down at Bellerophon's side as lightlyas ever you saw a sparrow hop upon a twig. 

"Well done, dear Pegasus; well done, my sky-skimmer, " cried Bellerophon, fondly stroking the horse's neck. "And now, my fleet and beautifulfriend, we must break our fast. To-day we are to fight the terribleChimaera. "

As soon as they had eaten their morning meal, and drank some sparklingwater from a spring called Hippocrene, Pegasus held out his head, of hisown accord, so that his master might put on the bridle. Then, with agreat many playful leaps and airy caperings, he showed his impatience tobe gone; while Bellerophon was girding on his sword, and hanging hisshield about his neck, and preparing himself for battle. Wheneverything was ready, the rider mounted, and (as was his custom whengoing a long distance) ascended five miles perpendicularly, so as thebetter to see whither he was directing his course. He then turned thehead of Pegasus towards the east, and set out for Lycia. In theirflight they overtook an eagle, and came so nigh him, before he could getout of their way, that Bellerophon might easily have caught him by theleg. Hastening onward at this rate, it was still early in the forenoonwhen they beheld the lofty mountains of Lycia, with their deep andshaggy valleys. If Bellerophon had been told truly, it was in one ofthose dismal valleys that the hideous Chimaera had taken up its abode. 

Being now so near their journey's end, the winged horse graduallydescended with his rider; and they took advantage of some clouds thatwere floating over the mountain-tops, in order to conceal themselves. Hovering on the upper surface of a cloud, and peeping over its edge, Bellerophon had a pretty distinct view of the mountainous part of Lycia, and could look into all its shadowy vales at once. At first thereappeared to be nothing remarkable. It was a wild, savage, and rockytract of high and precipitous hills. In the more level part of thecountry, there were the ruins of houses that had been burnt, and, hereand there, the carcases of dead cattle strewn about the pastures wherethey had been feeding. 

"The Chimaera must have done this mischief, " thought Bellerophon. "Butwhere can the monster be?"

As I have already said, there was nothing remarkable to be detected, atfirst sight, in any of the valleys and dells that lay among theprecipitous heights of the mountains. Nothing at all; unless, indeed, it were three spires of black smoke, which issued from what seemed to bethe mouth of a cavern, and clambered suddenly into the atmosphere. Before reaching the mountain-top, these three black smoke-wreathsmingled themselves into one. The cavern was almost directly beneath thewinged horse and his rider, at the distance of about a thousand feet. The smoke, as it, crept heavily upward, had an ugly, sulphurous, stifling scent, which caused Pegasus to snort and Bellerophon to sneeze. So disagreeable was it to the marvellous steed (who was accustomed tobreathe only the purest air), that he waved his wings, and shot half amile out of the range of this offensive vapour. 

But, on looking behind him, Bellerophon saw something that induced himfirst to draw the bridle, and then to turn Pegasus about. He made asign which the winged horse understood, and sunk slowly through the air, until his hoofs were scarcely more than a man's height above the rockybottom of the valley. In front, as far off as you could throw a stone, was the cavern's mouth, with the three smoke-wreaths oozing out of it. And what else did Bellerophon behold there?

There seemed to be a heap of strange and terrible creatures curled upwithin the cavern. Their bodies lay so close together, that Bellerophoncould not distinguish them apart: but judging by their heads, one ofthese creatures was a huge snake, the second a fierce lion, and thethird an ugly goat. The lion and the goat were asleep; the snake wasbroad awake, and kept staring around him with a great pair of fieryeyes. But--and this was the most wonderful part of the matter, thethree spires of smoke evidently issued from the nostrils of these threeheads! So strange was the spectacle, that, though Bellerophon had beenall along expecting it, the truth did not immediately occur to him, thathere was the terrible three-headed Chimaera. He had found out theChimaera's cavern. The snake, the lion, a and the goat, as he supposedthem to be, were not three separate creatures, but one monster!

The wicked, hateful thing! Slumbering as two-thirds of it were, itstill held, in its abominable claws, the remnant of an unfortunatelamb--or possibly (but I hate to think so) it was a dear little boy--which its three mouths had been gnawing before two of them fell asleep!

All at once, Bellerophon started as from a dream, and knew it to be theChimaera. Pegasus seemed to know it at the same instant, and sent fortha neigh, that sounded like the call of a trumpet to battle. At thissound the three heads reared themselves erect, and belched out greatflashes of flame. Before Bellerophon had time to consider what to donext, the monster flung itself out of the cavern and sprung straighttowards him, with its immense claws extended and its snaky tail twistingitself venomously behind. If Pegasus had not been as nimble as a bird, both he and his rider would have been overthrown by the Chimaera'sheadlong rush, and thus the battle have been ended before it was wellbegun. But the winged horse was not to be caught so. In the twinklingof an eye he was up aloft, half-way to the clouds, snorting with anger. He shuddered, too, not with affright, but with utter disgust at theloathsomeness of this poisonous thing with three heads. 

The Chimaera, on the other hand, raised itself up so as to standabsolutely on the tip-end of its tail, with its talons pawing fiercelyin the air, and its three heads spluttering fire at Pegasus and hisrider. My stars, how it roared, and hissed, and bellowed! Bellerophon, meanwhile, was fitting his shield on his arm, and drawing his sword. 

"Now, my beloved Pegasus, " he whispered in the winged horse's ear, "thoumust help me to slay this insufferable monster; or else thou shalt flyback to thy solitary mountain peak without thy friend Bellerophon. Foreither the Chimaera dies, or its three mouths shall gnaw this head ofmine, which has slumbered upon thy neck!"

Pegasus whinnied, and, turning back his head, rubbed his nose tenderlyagainst his rider's cheek. It was his way of telling him that, thoughhe had wings and was an immortal horse, yet he would perish, if it werepossible for immortality to perish, rather than leave Bellerophonbehind. 

"I thank you, Pegasus, " answered Bellerophon. "Now, then, let us make adash at the monster!"

Uttering these words, he shook the bridle; and Pegasus darted downaslant, as swift as the flight of an arrow, right towards the Chimaera'sthreefold head, which, all this time, was poking itself as high as itcould into the air. As he came within arm's length, Bellerophon made acut at the monster, but was carried onward by his steed, before he couldsee whether the blow had been successful. Pegasus continued his course, but soon wheeled round, at about the same distance from the Chimaera asbefore. Bellerophon then perceived that he had cut the goat's head ofthe monster almost off, so that it dangled downward by the skin, andseemed quite dead. 

But to make amends, the snake's head and the lion's head had taken allthe fierceness of the dead one into themselves, and spit flame, andhissed, and roared, with a vast deal more fury than before. 

"Never mind, my brave Pegasus!" cried Bellerophon. "With another strokelike that we will stop either its hissing or its roaring. "

And again he shook the bridle. Dashing aslant-wise, as before, thewinged horse made another arrow-flight towards the Chimaera, andBellerophon aimed another downright stroke at one of the two remainingheads, as he shot by. But, this time, neither he nor Pegasus escaped sowell as at first. With one of its claws, the Chimaera had given theyoung man a deep scratch in his shoulder, and had slightly damaged theleft wing of the flying steed with the other. On his part, Bellerophonhad mortally wounded the lion's head of the monster, insomuch that itnow hung downward, with its fire almost extinguished, and sending outgasps of thick black smoke. The snake's head, however (which was theonly one now left), was twice as fierce and venomous as ever before. Itbelched forth shoots of fire five hundred yards long, and emitted hissesso loud, so harsh, and so ear-piercing, that King Iobates heard them, fifty miles off, and trembled till the throne shook under him. 

"Well-a-day!" thought the poor king; "the Chimaera is certainly comingto devour me!"

Meanwhile, Pegasus had again paused in the air, and neighed angrily, while sparkles of a pure crystal flame darted out of his eyes. Howunlike the lurid fire of the Chimaera! The aerial steed's spirit wasall aroused, and so was that of Bellerophon. 

"Dost thou bleed, my immortal horse?" cried the young man, caring lessfor his own hurt than for the anguish of this glorious creature, thatought never to have tasted pain. "The execrable Chimaera shall pay forthis mischief, with his last head!"

Then he shook the bridle, shouted loudly, and guided Pegasus, notaslant-wise as before, but straight at the monster's hideous front. Sorapid was the onset, that it seemed but a dazzle and a flash, beforeBellerophon was at close gripes with the enemy. 

The Chimaera, by this time, after losing its second head, had got into ared-hot passion of pain and rampant rage. It so flounced about, half onearth and partly in the air, that it was impossible to say which elementit rested upon. It opened its snake-jaws to such an abominable width, that Pegasus might almost, I was going to say, have flown right down itsthroat, wings outspread, rider and all? At their approach it shot out atremendous blast of its fiery breath, and enveloped Bellerophon and hisstead in a perfect atmosphere of flame, singeing the wings of Pegasus, scorching off one whole side of the young man's golden ringlets, andmaking them both far hotter than was comfortable, from head to foot. 

But this was nothing to what followed. 

When the airy rush of the winged horse had brought him within thedistance of a hundred yards, the Chimaera gave a spring, and flung itshuge, awkward, venomous, and utterly detestable carcase a right uponpoor Pegasus, clung round him with might and main, and tied up its snakytail into a knot! Up flew the aerial steed, higher, higher, higher, above the mountain peaks, above the clouds, and almost out of sight ofthe solid earth. But still the earth-born monster kept its hold, andwas borne upward, along with the creature of light and air. Bellerophon, meanwhile turning about, found himself face to face withthe ugly grimness of the Chimaera's visage, and could only avoid beingscorched to death, or bitten right in twain, by holding up his shield. Over the upper edge of the shield, he looked sternly into the savageeyes of the monster. 

But the Chimaera was so mad and wild with pain, that it did not guarditself so well as might else have been the case. Perhaps, after all, the best way to fight a Chimaera is by getting as close to it as youcan. In its efforts to stick its horrible iron claws into its enemy, the creature left its own breast quite exposed; and perceiving this, Bellerophon thrust his sword up to the hilt into its cruel heart. Immediately the snaky tail untied its knot. The monster let go its holdof Pegasus, and fell from that vast height downward; while the firewithin its bosom, instead of being put out, burned fiercer than ever, and quickly began to consume the dead carcase. Thus it fell out of thesky, all a-flame, and (it being nightfall before it reached the earth)was mistaken for a shooting star or a comet. But at early sunrise, somecottager's were going to their day's labour, and saw, to theirastonishment, that several acres of ground were strewn with black ashes. In the middle of a field there was a heap of whitened bones, a greatdeal higher than a haystack. Nothing else was ever seen of the dreadfulChimaera!

And when Bellerophon had won the victory, he bent forward and kissedPegasus, while the tears stood in his eyes. 

"Back now, my beloved steed!" said he. "Back to the Fountain ofPirene!"

Pegasus skimmed through the air, quicker than ever he did before, andreached the fountain in a very short time. And there he found the oldman leaning on his staff, and the country fellow watering his cow, andthe pretty maiden filling her pitcher. 

"I remember now, " quoth the old man, "I saw this winged horse oncebefore, when I was quite a lad. But he was ten times handsomer in thosedays. "

"I own a cart-horse worth three of him!" said the country fellow. "Ifthis pony were mine, the first thing I should do would be to clip hiswings!"

But the poor maiden said nothing, for she had always the luck to beafraid at the wrong time. So she ran away, and let her pitcher tumbledown, and broke it. 

"Where is the gentle child, " asked Bellerophon, "who used to keep mecompany, and never lost his faith, and never was weary of gazing intothe fountain?"

"Here am I, dear Bellerophon!" said the child, softly. 

For the little boy had spent day after day, on the margin of Pirene, waiting for his friend to come back; but when he perceived Bellerophondescending through the clouds, mounted on the winged horse, he hadshrunk back into the shrubbery. He was a delicate and tender child, anddreaded lest the old man and the country fellow should see the tearsgushing from his eyes. 

"Thou hast won the victory, " said he, joyfully, running to the knee ofBellerophon, who still sat on the back of Pegasus. "I knew thouwouldst. "

"Yes, dear child!" replied Bellerophon, alighting from the winged horse. "But if thy faith had not helped me, I should never have waited forPegasus, and never have gone up above the clouds, and never haveconquered the terrible Chimaera. Thou, my beloved little friend, hastdone it all. And now let us give Pegasus his liberty. "

So he slipped off the enchanted bridle from the head of the marvelloussteed. 

"Be free, for evermore, my Pegasus!" cried he with a shade of sadness inhis tone. "Be as free as thou art fleet!"

But Pegasus rested his head on Bellerophon's shoulder, and would not bepersuaded to take flight. 

"Well, then, " said Bellerophon, caressing the airy horse, "thou shalt bewith me as long as thou wilt; and we will go together forthwith, andtell King Iobates that the Chimaera is destroyed. "

Then Bellerophon embraced the gentle child, and promised to come to himagain, and departed. But, in after years, that child took higherflights upon the aerial steed than ever did Bellerophon, and achievedmore honourable deeds than his friend's victory over the Chimaera. For, gentle and tender as he was, he grew to be a mighty poet!