cbt.txt
_book_title_: andrew_lang___the_yellow_fairy_book.txt.out
the yellow fairy book the cat and the mouse in partnership a cat had made acquaintance with a mouse, and had spoken so much of the great love and friendship she felt for her, that at last the mouse consented to live in the same house with her, and to go shares in the housekeeping.
"but we must provide for the winter or else we shall suffer hunger," said the cat.
"you, little mouse, can not venture everywhere in case you run at last into a trap."
this good counsel was followed, and a little pot of fat was bought.
but they did not know where to put it.
at length, after long consultation, the cat said," i know of no place where it could be better put than in the church.
no one will trouble to take it away from there.
we will hide it in a corner, and we wo n't touch it till we are in want."
so the little pot was placed in safety; but it was not long before the cat had a great longing for it, and said to the mouse," i wanted to tell you, little mouse, that my cousin has a little son, white with brown spots, and she wants me to be godmother to it.
let me go out to-day, and do you take care of the house alone."
"yes, go certainly," replied the mouse, "and when you eat anything good, think of me; i should very much like a drop of the red christening wine."
but it was all untrue.
the cat had no cousin, and had not been asked to be godmother.
she went straight to the church, slunk to the little pot of fat, began to lick it, and licked the top off.
then she took a walk on the roofs of the town, looked at the view, stretched herself out in the sun, and licked her lips whenever she thought of the little pot of fat.
as soon as it was evening she went home again.
"ah, here you are again!"
said the mouse; "you must certainly have had an enjoyable day."
"it went off very well," answered the cat.
"what was the child's name?"
asked the mouse.
"top off," said the cat drily.
"topoff!"
echoed the mouse, "it is indeed a wonderful and curious name.
is it in your family?"
"what is there odd about it?"
said the cat.
"it is not worse than breadthief, as your godchild is called."
not long after this another great longing came over the cat.
she said to the mouse, "you must again be kind enough to look after the house alone, for i have been asked a second time to stand godmother, and as this child has a white ring round its neck, i can not refuse."
the kind mouse agreed, but the cat slunk under the town wall to the church, and ate up half of the pot of fat.
"nothing tastes better," said she, "than what one eats by oneself," and she was very much pleased with her day's work.
when she came home the mouse asked, "what was this child called?"
"half gone," answered the cat.
"halfgone!
what a name!
i have never heard it in my life.
i do n't believe it is in the calendar."
soon the cat's mouth began to water once more after her licking business.
"all good things in threes," she said to the mouse;" i have again to stand godmother.
the child is quite black, and has very white paws, but not a single white hair on its body.
this only happens once in two years, so you will let me go out?"
"topoff!
halfgone!"
repeated the mouse, "they are such curious names; they make me very thoughtful."
"oh, you sit at home in your dark grey coat and your long tail," said the cat, "and you get fanciful.
that comes of not going out in the day."
the mouse had a good cleaning out while the cat was gone, and made the house tidy; but the greedy cat ate the fat every bit up.
"when it is all gone one can be at rest," she said to herself, and at night she came home sleek and satisfied.
the mouse asked at once after the third child's name.
"it wo n't please you any better," said the cat, "he was called clean gone."
"cleangone!"
repeated the mouse."
i do not believe that name has been printed any more than the others.
cleangone!
what can it mean?"
she shook her head, curled herself up, and went to sleep.
from this time on no one asked the cat to stand godmother; but when the winter came and there was nothing to be got outside, the mouse remembered their provision and said, "come, cat, we will go to our pot of fat which we have stored away; it will taste very good."
"yes, indeed," answered the cat; "it will taste as good to you as if you stretched your thin tongue out of the window."
they started off, and when they reached it they found the pot in its place, but quite empty!
"ah," said the mouse," "now i know what has happened!
it has all come out!
you are a true friend to me!
you have eaten it all when you stood godmother; first the top off, then half of it gone, then --" "will you be quiet!"
screamed the cat.
"another word and i will eat you up."
"clean-gone" was already on the poor mouse's tongue, and scarcely was it out than the cat made a spring at her, seized and swallowed her.
you see that is the way of the world.
the six swans a king was once hunting in a great wood, and he hunted the game so eagerly that none of his courtiers could follow him.
when evening came on he stood still and looked round him, and he saw that he had quite lost himself.
he sought a way out, but could find none.
then he saw an old woman with a shaking head coming towards him; but she was a witch.
"good woman," he said to her, "can you not show me the way out of the wood?"
"oh, certainly, sir king," she replied," i can quite well do that, but on one condition, which if you do not fulfil you will never get out of the wood, and will die of hunger."
"what is the condition?"
asked the king."
i have a daughter," said the old woman, "who is so beautiful that she has not her equal in the world, and is well fitted to be your wife; if you will make her lady-queen i will show you the way out of the wood."
the king in his anguish of mind consented, and the old woman led him to her little house where her daughter was sitting by the fire.
she received the king as if she were expecting him, and he saw that she was certainly very beautiful; but she did not please him, and he could not look at her without a secret feeling of horror.
as soon as he had lifted the maiden on to his horse the old woman showed him the way, and the king reached his palace, where the wedding was celebrated.
the king had already been married once, and had by his first wife seven children, six boys and one girl, whom he loved more than anything in the world.
and now, because he was afraid that their stepmother might not treat them well and might do them harm, he put them in a lonely castle that stood in the middle of a wood.
it lay so hidden, and the way to it was so hard to find, that he himself could not have found it out had not a wise-woman given him a reel of thread which possessed a marvellous property: when he threw it before him it unwound itself and showed him the way.
but the king went so often to his dear children that the queen was offended at his absence.
she grew curious, and wanted to know what he had to do quite alone in the wood.
she gave his servants a great deal of money, and they betrayed the secret to her, and also told her of the reel which alone could point out the way.
she had no rest now till she had found out where the king guarded the reel, and then she made some little white shirts, and, as she had learnt from her witch-mother, sewed an enchantment in each of them.
and when the king had ridden off she took the little shirts and went into the wood, and the reel showed her the way.
the children, who saw someone coming in the distance, thought it was their dear father coming to them, and sprang to meet him very joyfully.
then she threw over each one a little shirt, which when it had touched their bodies changed them into swans, and they flew away over the forest.
the queen went home quite satisfied, and thought she had got rid of her step-children; but the girl had not run to meet her with her brothers, and she knew nothing of her.
the next day the king came to visit his children, but he found no one but the girl.
"where are your brothers?"
asked the king.
"alas!
dear father," she answered, "they have gone away and left me all alone."
and she told him that looking out of her little window she had seen her brothers flying over the wood in the shape of swans, and she showed him the feathers which they had let fall in the yard, and which she had collected.
the king mourned, but he did not think that the queen had done the wicked deed, and as he was afraid the maiden would also be taken from him, he wanted to take her with him.
but she was afraid of the stepmother, and begged the king to let her stay just one night more in the castle in the wood.
the poor maiden thought, "my home is no longer here; i will go and seek my brothers."
and when night came she fled away into the forest.
she ran all through the night and the next day, till she could go no farther for weariness.
then she saw a little hut, went in, and found a room with six little beds.
she was afraid to lie down on one, so she crept under one of them, lay on the hard floor, and was going to spend the night there.
but when the sun had set she heard a noise, and saw six swans flying in at the window.
they stood on the floor and blew at one another, and blew all their feathers off, and their swan-skin came off like a shirt.
then the maiden recognised her brothers, and overjoyed she crept out from under the bed.
her brothers were not less delighted than she to see their little sister again, but their joy did not last long.
"you can not stay here," they said to her.
"this is a den of robbers; if they were to come here and find you they would kill you."
"could you not protect me?"
asked the little sister.
"no," they answered, "for we can only lay aside our swan skins for a quarter of an hour every evening.
for this time we regain our human forms, but then we are changed into swans again."
then the little sister cried and said, "can you not be freed?"
"oh, no," they said, "the conditions are too hard.
you must not speak or laugh for six years, and must make in that time six shirts for us out of star-flowers.
if a single word comes out of your mouth, all your labour is vain."
and when the brothers had said this the quarter of an hour came to an end, and they flew away out of the window as swans.
but the maiden had determined to free her brothers even if it should cost her her life.
she left the hut, went into the forest, climbed a tree, and spent the night there.
the next morning she went out, collected star-flowers, and began to sew.
she could speak to no one, and she had no wish to laugh, so she sat there, looking only at her work.
when she had lived there some time, it happened that the king of the country was hunting in the forest, and his hunters came to the tree on which the maiden sat.
they called to her and said "who are you?"
but she gave no answer.
"come down to us," they said, "we will do you no harm."
but she shook her head silently.
as they pressed her further with questions, she threw them the golden chain from her neck.
but they did not leave off, and she threw them her girdle, and when this was no use, her garters, and then her dress.
the huntsmen would not leave her alone, but climbed the tree, lifted the maiden down, and led her to the king.
the king asked, "who are you?
what are you doing up that tree?"
but she answered nothing.
he asked her in all the languages he knew, but she remained as dumb as a fish.
because she was so beautiful, however, the king's heart was touched, and he was seized with a great love for her.
he wrapped her up in his cloak, placed her before him on his horse, and brought her to his castle.
there he had her dressed in rich clothes, and her beauty shone out as bright as day, but not a word could be drawn from her.
he set her at table by his side, and her modest ways and behaviour pleased him so much that he said," i will marry this maiden and none other in the world," and after some days he married her.
but the king had a wicked mother who was displeased with the marriage, and said wicked things of the young queen.
"who knows who this girl is?"
she said; "she can not speak, and is not worthy of a king."
after a year, when the queen had her first child, the old mother took it away from her.
then she went to the king and said that the queen had killed it.
the king would not believe it, and would not allow any harm to be done her.
but she sat quietly sewing at the shirts and troubling herself about nothing.
the next time she had a child the wicked mother did the same thing, but the king could not make up his mind to believe her.
he said, "she is too sweet and good to do such a thing as that.
if she were not dumb and could defend herself, her innocence would be proved."
but when the third child was taken away, and the queen was again accused, and could not utter a word in her own defence, the king was obliged to give her over to the law, which decreed that she must be burnt to death.
when the day came on which the sentence was to be executed, it was the last day of the six years in which she must not speak or laugh, and now she had freed her dear brothers from the power of the enchantment.
the six shirts were done; there was only the left sleeve wanting to the last.
when she was led to the stake, she laid the shirts on her arm, and as she stood on the pile and the fire was about to be lighted, she looked around her and saw six swans flying through the air.
then she knew that her release was at hand and her heart danced for joy.
the swans fluttered round her, and hovered low so that she could throw the shirts over them.
when they had touched them the swan-skins fell off, and her brothers stood before her living, well and beautiful.
only the youngest had a swan's wing instead of his left arm.
they embraced and kissed each other, and the queen went to the king, who was standing by in great astonishment, and began to speak to him, saying, "dearest husband, now i can speak and tell you openly that i am innocent and have been falsely accused."
she told him of the old woman's deceit, and how she had taken the three children away and hidden them.
then they were fetched, to the great joy of the king, and the wicked mother came to no good end.
but the king and the queen with their six brothers lived many years in happiness and peace.
the dragon of the north -lrb- 2 -rrb- -lrb- 2 -rrb- "der norlands drache," from esthnische mahrchen.
kreutzwald.
very long ago, as old people have told me, there lived a terrible monster, who came out of the north, and laid waste whole tracts of country, devouring both men and beasts; and this monster was so destructive that it was feared that unless help came no living creature would be left on the face of the earth.
it had a body like an ox, and legs like a frog, two short fore-legs, and two long ones behind, and besides that it had a tail like a serpent, ten fathoms in length.
when it moved it jumped like a frog, and with every spring it covered half a mile of ground.
fortunately its habit, was to remain for several years in the same place, and not to move on till the whole neighbourhood was eaten up.
nothing could hunt it, because its whole body was covered with scales, which were harder than stone or metal; its two great eyes shone by night, and even by day, like the brightest lamps, and anyone who had the ill luck to look into those eyes became as it were bewitched, and was obliged to rush of his own accord into the monster's jaws.
in this way the dragon was able to feed upon both men and beasts without the least trouble to itself, as it needed not to move from the spot where it was lying.
all the neighbouring kings had offered rich rewards to anyone who should be able to destroy the monster, either by force or enchantment, and many had tried their luck, but all had miserably failed.
once a great forest in which the dragon lay had been set on fire; the forest was burnt down, but the fire did not do the monster the least harm.
however, there was a tradition amongst the wise men of the country that the dragon might be overcome by one who possessed king solomon's signet-ring, upon which a secret writing was engraved.
this inscription would enable anyone who was wise enough to interpret it to find out how the dragon could be destroyed.
only no one knew where the ring was hidden, nor was there any sorcerer or learned man to be found who would be able to explain the inscription.
at last a young man, with a good heart and plenty of courage, set out to search for the ring.
he took his way towards the sunrising, because he knew that all the wisdom of old time comes from the east.
after some years he met with a famous eastern magician, and asked for his advice in the matter.
the magician answered: "mortal men have but little wisdom, and can give you no help, but the birds of the air would be better guides to you if you could learn their language.
i can help you to understand it if you will stay with me a few days."
the youth thankfully accepted the magician's offer, and said," i can not now offer you any reward for your kindness, but should my undertaking succeed your trouble shall be richly repaid."
then the magician brewed a powerful potion out of nine sorts of herbs which he had gathered himself all alone by moonlight, and he gave the youth nine spoonfuls of it daily for three days, which made him able to understand the language of birds.
at parting the magician said to him.
"if you ever find solomon's ring and get possession of it, then come back to me, that i may explain the inscription on the ring to you, for there is no one else in the world who can do this."
from that time the youth never felt lonely as he walked along; he always had company, because he understood the language of birds; and in this way he learned many things which mere human knowledge could never have taught him.
but time went on, and he heard nothing about the ring.
it happened one evening, when he was hot and tired with walking, and had sat down under a tree in a forest to eat his supper, that he saw two gaily-plumaged birds, that were strange to him, sitting at the top of the tree talking to one another about him.
the first bird said: "i know that wandering fool under the tree there, who has come so far without finding what he seeks.
he is trying to find king solomon's lost ring."
the other bird answered, "he will have to seek help from the witch-maiden, -lrb- 3 -rrb- who will doubtless be able to put him on the right track.
if she has not got the ring herself, she knows well enough who has it."
-lrb- 3 -rrb- hollenmadchen.
"but where is he to find the witch-maiden?"
said the first bird.
"she has no settled dwelling, but is here to-day and gone to-morrow.
he might as well try to catch the wind."
the other replied," i do not know, certainly, where she is at present, but in three nights from now she will come to the spring to wash her face, as she does every month when the moon is full, in order that she may never grow old nor wrinkled, but may always keep the bloom of youth."
"well," said the first bird, "the spring is not far from here.
shall we go and see how it is she does it?"
"willingly, if you like," said the other.
the youth immediately resolved to follow the birds to the spring, only two things made him uneasy: first, lest he might be asleep when the birds went, and secondly, lest he might lose sight of them, since he had not wings to carry him along so swiftly.
he was too tired to keep awake all night, yet his anxiety prevented him from sleeping soundly, and when with the earliest dawn he looked up to the tree-top, he was glad to see his feathered companions still asleep with their heads under their wings.
he ate his breakfast, and waited until the birds should start, but they did not leave the place all day.
they hopped about from one tree to another looking for food, all day long until the evening, when they went back to their old perch to sleep.
the next day the same thing happened, but on the third morning one bird said to the other, "to-day we must go to the spring to see the witch-maiden wash her face."
they remained on the tree till noon; then they flew away and went towards the south.
the young man's heart beat with anxiety lest he should lose sight of his guides, but he managed to keep the birds in view until they again perched upon a tree.
the young man ran after them until he was quite exhausted and out of breath, and after three short rests the birds at length reached a small open space in the forest, on the edge of which they placed themselves on the top of a high tree.
when the youth had overtaken them, he saw that there was a clear spring in the middle of the space.
he sat down at the foot of the tree upon which the birds were perched, and listened attentively to what they were saying to each other.
"the sun is not down yet," said the first bird; "we must wait yet awhile till the moon rises and the maiden comes to the spring.
do you think she will see that young man sitting under the tree?"
"nothing is likely to escape her eyes, certainly not a young man, said the other bird.
"will the youth have the sense not to let himself be caught in her toils?"
"we will wait," said the first bird, "and see how they get on together."
the evening light had quite faded, and the full moon was already shining down upon the forest, when the young man heard a slight rustling sound.
after a few moments there came out of the forest a maiden, gliding over the grass so lightly that her feet seemed scarcely to touch the ground, and stood beside the spring.
the youth could not turn away his eyes from the maiden, for he had never in his life seen a woman so beautiful.
without seeming to notice anything, she went to the spring, looked up to the full moon, then knelt down and bathed her face nine times, then looked up to the moon again and walked nine times round the well, and as she walked she sang this song: "full-faced moon with light unshaded, let my beauty ne'er be faded.
never let my cheek grow pale!
while the moon is waning nightly, may the maiden bloom more brightly, may her freshness never fail!"
then she dried her face with her long hair, and was about to go away, when her eye suddenly fell upon the spot where the young man was sitting, and she turned towards the tree.
the youth rose and stood waiting.
then the maiden said, "you ought to have a heavy punishment because you have presumed to watch my secret doings in the moonlight.
but i will forgive you this time, because you are a stranger and knew no better.
but you must tell me truly who you are and how you came to this place, where no mortal has ever set foot before."
the youth answered humbly: "forgive me, beautiful maiden, if i have unintentionally offended you.
i chanced to come here after long wandering, and found a good place to sleep under this tree.
at your coming i did not know what to do, but stayed where i was, because i thought my silent watching could not offend you."
the maiden answered kindly, "come and spend this night with us.
you will sleep better on a pillow than on damp moss."
the youth hesitated for a little, but presently he heard the birds saying from the top of the tree, "go where she calls you, but take care to give no blood, or you will sell your soul."
so the youth went with her, and soon they reached a beautiful garden, where stood a splendid house, which glittered in the moonlight as if it was all built out of gold and silver.
when the youth entered he found many splendid chambers, each one finer than the last.
hundreds of tapers burnt upon golden candlesticks, and shed a light like the brightest day.
at length they reached a chamber where a table was spread with the most costly dishes.
at the table were placed two chairs, one of silver, the other of gold.
the maiden seated herself upon the golden chair, and offered the silver one to her companion.
they were served by maidens dressed in white, whose feet made no sound as they moved about, and not a word was spoken during the meal.
afterwards the youth and the witch-maiden conversed pleasantly together, until a woman, dressed in red, came in to remind them that it was bedtime.
the youth was now shown into another room, containing a silken bed with down cushions, where he slept delightfully, yet he seemed to hear a voice near his bed which repeated to him, "remember to give no blood!"
the next morning the maiden asked him whether he would not like to stay with her always in this beautiful place, and as he did not answer immediately, she continued: "you see how i always remain young and beautiful, and i am under no one's orders, but can do just what i like, so that i have never thought of marrying before.
but from the moment i saw you i took a fancy to you, so if you agree, we might be married and might live together like princes, because i have great riches."
the youth could not but be tempted with the beautiful maiden's offer, but he remembered how the birds had called her the witch, and their warning always sounded in his ears.
therefore he answered cautiously, "do not be angry, dear maiden, if i do not decide immediately on this important matter.
give me a few days to consider before we come to an understanding."
"why not?"
answered the maiden.
"take some weeks to consider if you like, and take counsel with your own heart."
and to make the time pass pleasantly, she took the youth over every part of her beautiful dwelling, and showed him all her splendid treasures.
but these treasures were all produced by enchantment, for the maiden could make anything she wished appear by the help of king solomon's signet ring; only none of these things remained fixed; they passed away like the wind without leaving a trace behind.
but the youth did not know this; he thought they were all real.
one day the maiden took him into a secret chamber, where a little gold box was standing on a silver table.
pointing to the box, she said, "here is my greatest treasure, whose like is not to be found in the whole world.
it is a precious gold ring.
when you marry me, i will give you this ring as a marriage gift, and it will make you the happiest of mortal men.
but in order that our love may last for ever, you must give me for the ring three drops of blood from the little finger of your left hand."
when the youth heard these words a cold shudder ran over him, for he remembered that his soul was at stake.
he was cunning enough, however, to conceal his feelings and to make no direct answer, but he only asked the maiden, as if carelessly, what was remarkable about the ring?
she answered, "no mortal is able entirely to understand the power of this ring, because no one thoroughly understands the secret signs engraved upon it.
but even with my half-knowledge i can work great wonders.
if i put the ring upon the little finger of my left hand, then i can fly like a bird through the air wherever i wish to go.
if i put it on the third finger of my left hand i am invisible, and i can see everything that passes around me, though no one can see me.
if i put the ring upon the middle finger of my left hand, then neither fire nor water nor any sharp weapon can hurt me.
if i put it on the forefinger of my left hand, then i can with its help produce whatever i wish.
i can in a single moment build houses or anything i desire.
finally, as long as i wear the ring on the thumb of my left hand, that hand is so strong that it can break down rocks and walls.
besides these, the ring has other secret signs which, as i said, no one can understand.
no doubt it contains secrets of great importance.
the ring formerly belonged to king solomon, the wisest of kings, during whose reign the wisest men lived.
but it is not known whether this ring was ever made by mortal hands: it is supposed that an angel gave it to the wise king."
when the youth heard all this he determined to try and get possession of the ring, though he did not quite believe in all its wonderful gifts.
he wished the maiden would let him have it in his hand, but he did not quite like to ask her to do so, and after a while she put it back into the box.
a few days after they were again speaking of the magic ring, and the youth said," i do not think it possible that the ring can have all the power you say it has."
then the maiden opened the box and took the ring out, and it glittered as she held it like the clearest sunbeam.
she put it on the middle finger of her left hand, and told the youth to take a knife and try as hard as he could to cut her with it, for he would not be able to hurt her.
he was unwilling at first, but the maiden insisted.
then he tried, at first only in play, and then seriously, to strike her with the knife, but an invisible wall of iron seemed to be between them, and the maiden stood before him laughing and unhurt.
then she put the ring on her third finger, and in an instant she had vanished from his eyes.
presently she was beside him again laughing, and holding the ring between her fingers.
"do let me try," said the youth, "whether i can do these wonderful things."
the maiden, suspecting no treachery, gave him the magic ring.
the youth pretended to have forgotten what to do, and asked what finger he must put the ring on so that no sharp weapon could hurt him?"
"oh, the middle finger of your left hand," the maiden answered, laughing.
she took the knife and tried to strike the youth, and he even tried to cut himself with it, but found it impossible.
then he asked the maiden to show him how to split stones and rocks with the help of the ring.
so she led him into a courtyard where stood a great boulder-stone.
"now," she said, "put the ring upon the thumb of your left hand, and you will see how strong that hand has become.
the youth did so, and found to his astonishment that with a single blow of his fist the stone flew into a thousand pieces.
then the youth bethought him that he who does not use his luck when he has it is a fool, and that this was a chance which once lost might never return.
so while they stood laughing at the shattered stone he placed the ring, as if in play, upon the third finger of his left hand.
"now," said the maiden, "you are invisible to me until you take the ring off again."
but the youth had no mind to do that; on the contrary, he went farther off, then put the ring on the little finger of his left hand, and soared into the air like a bird.
when the maiden saw him flying away she thought at first that he was still in play, and cried, "come back, friend, for now you see i have told you the truth."
but the young man never came back.
then the maiden saw she was deceived, and bitterly repented that she had ever trusted him with the ring.
the young man never halted in his flight until he reached the dwelling of the wise magician who had taught him the speech of birds.
the magician was delighted to find that his search had been successful, and at once set to work to interpret the secret signs engraved upon the ring, but it took him seven weeks to make them out clearly.
then he gave the youth the following instructions how to overcome the dragon of the north: "you must have an iron horse cast, which must have little wheels under each foot.
you must also be armed with a spear two fathoms long, which you will be able to wield by means of the magic ring upon your left thumb.
the spear must be as thick in the middle as a large tree, and both its ends must be sharp.
in the middle of the spear you must have two strong chains ten fathoms in length.
as soon as the dragon has made himself fast to the spear, which you must thrust through his jaws, you must spring quickly from the iron horse and fasten the ends of the chains firmly to the ground with iron stakes, so that he can not get away from them.
after two or three days the monster's strength will be so far exhausted that you will be able to come near him.
then you can put solomon's ring upon your left thumb and give him the finishing stroke, but keep the ring on your third finger until you have come close to him, so that the monster can not see you, else he might strike you dead with his long tail.
but when all is done, take care you do not lose the ring, and that no one takes it from you by cunning."
the young man thanked the magician for his directions, and promised, should they succeed, to reward him.
but the magician answered," i have profited so much by the wisdom the ring has taught me that i desire no other reward."
then they parted, and the youth quickly flew home through the air.
after remaining in his own home for some weeks, he heard people say that the terrible dragon of the north was not far off, and might shortly be expected in the country.
the king announced publicly that he would give his daughter in marriage, as well as a large part of his kingdom, to whosoever should free the country from the monster.
the youth then went to the king and told him that he had good hopes of subduing the dragon, if the king would grant him all he desired for the purpose.
the king willingly agreed, and the iron horse, the great spear, and the chains were all prepared as the youth requested.
when all was ready, it was found that the iron horse was so heavy that a hundred men could not move it from the spot, so the youth found there was nothing for it but to move it with his own strength by means of the magic ring.
the dragon was now so near that in a couple of springs he would be over the frontier.
the youth now began to consider how he should act, for if he had to push the iron horse from behind he could not ride upon it as the sorcerer had said he must.
but a raven unexpectedly gave him this advice: "ride upon the horse, and push the spear against the ground, as if you were pushing off a boat from the land."
the youth did so, and found that in this way he could easily move forwards.
the dragon had his monstrous jaws wide open, all ready for his expected prey.
a few paces nearer, and man and horse would have been swallowed up by them!
the youth trembled with horror, and his blood ran cold, yet he did not lose his courage; but, holding the iron spear upright in his hand, he brought it down with all his might right through the monster's lower jaw.
then quick as lightning he sprang from his horse before the dragon had time to shut his mouth.
a fearful clap like thunder, which could be heard for miles around, now warned him that the dragon's jaws had closed upon the spear.
when the youth turned round he saw the point of the spear sticking up high above the dragon's upper jaw, and knew that the other end must be fastened firmly to the ground; but the dragon had got his teeth fixed in the iron horse, which was now useless.
the youth now hastened to fasten down the chains to the ground by means of the enormous iron pegs which he had provided.
the death struggle of the monster lasted three days and three nights; in his writhing he beat his tail so violently against the ground, that at ten miles" distance the earth trembled as if with an earthquake.
when he at length lost power to move his tail, the youth with the help of the ring took up a stone which twenty ordinary men could not have moved, and beat the dragon so hard about the head with it that very soon the monster lay lifeless before him.
you can fancy how great was the rejoicing when the news was spread abroad that the terrible monster was dead.
his conqueror was received into the city with as much pomp as if he had been the mightiest of kings.
the old king did not need to urge his daughter to marry the slayer of the dragon; he found her already willing to bestow her hand upon this hero, who had done all alone what whole armies had tried in vain to do.
in a few days a magnificent wedding was celebrated, at which the rejoicings lasted four whole weeks, for all the neighbouring kings had met together to thank the man who had freed the world from their common enemy.
but everyone forgot amid the general joy that they ought to have buried the dragon's monstrous body, for it began now to have such a bad smell that no one could live in the neighbourhood, and before long the whole air was poisoned, and a pestilence broke out which destroyed many hundreds of people.
in this distress, the king's son-in-law resolved to seek help once more from the eastern magician, to whom he at once travelled through the air like a bird by the help of the ring.
but there is a proverb which says that ill-gotten gains never prosper, and the prince found that the stolen ring brought him ill-luck after all.
the witch-maiden had never rested night nor day until she had found out where the ring was.
as soon as she had discovered by means of magical arts that the prince in the form of a bird was on his way to the eastern magician, she changed herself into an eagle and watched in the air until the bird she was waiting for came in sight, for she knew him at once by the ring which was hung round his neck by a ribbon.
then the eagle pounced upon the bird, and the moment she seized him in her talons she tore the ring from his neck before the man in bird's shape had time to prevent her.
then the eagle flew down to the earth with her prey, and the two stood face to face once more in human form.
"now, villain, you are in my power!"
cried the witch-maiden."
i favoured you with my love, and you repaid me with treachery and theft.
you stole my most precious jewel from me, and do you expect to live happily as the king's son-in-law?
now the tables are turned; you are in my power, and i will be revenged on you for your crimes."
"forgive me!
forgive me!"
cried the prince;" i know too well how deeply i have wronged you, and most heartily do i repent it."
the maiden answered, "your prayers and your repentance come too late, and if i were to spare you everyone would think me a fool.
you have doubly wronged me; first you scorned my love, and then you stole my ring, and you must bear the punishment."
with these words she put the ring upon her left thumb, lifted the young man with one hand, and walked away with him under her arm.
this time she did not take him to a splendid palace, but to a deep cave in a rock, where there were chains hanging from the wall.
the maiden now chained the young man's hands and feet so that he could not escape; then she said in an angry voice, "here you shall remain chained up until you die.
i will bring you every day enough food to prevent you dying of hunger, but you need never hope for freedom any more."
with these words she left him.
the old king and his daughter waited anxiously for many weeks for the prince's return, but no news of him arrived.
the king's daughter often dreamed that her husband was going through some great suffering: she therefore begged her father to summon all the enchanters and magicians, that they might try to find out where the prince was and how he could be set free.
but the magicians, with all their arts, could find out nothing, except that he was still living and undergoing great suffering; but none could tell where he was to be found.
at last a celebrated magician from finland was brought before the king, who had found out that the king's son-in-law was imprisoned in the east, not by men, but by some more powerful being.
the king now sent messengers to the east to look for his son-in-law, and they by good luck met with the old magician who had interpreted the signs on king solomon's ring, and thus was possessed of more wisdom than anyone else in the world.
the magician soon found out what he wished to know, and pointed out the place where the prince was imprisoned, but said: "he is kept there by enchantment, and can not be set free without my help.
i will therefore go with you myself."
so they all set out, guided by birds, and after some days came to the cave where the unfortunate prince had been chained up for nearly seven years.
he recognised the magician immediately, but the old man did not know him, he had grown so thin.
however, he undid the chains by the help of magic, and took care of the prince until he recovered and became strong enough to travel.
when he reached home he found that the old king had died that morning, so that he was now raised to the throne.
and now after his long suffering came prosperity, which lasted to the end of his life; but he never got back the magic ring, nor has it ever again been seen by mortal eyes.
now, if you had been the prince, would you not rather have stayed with the pretty witch-maiden?
story of the emperor's new clothes -lrb- 4 -rrb- -lrb- 4 -rrb- andersen.
many years ago there lived an emperor who was so fond of new clothes that he spent all his money on them in order to be beautifully dressed.
he did not care about his soldiers, he did not care about the theatre; he only liked to go out walking to show off his new clothes.
he had a coat for every hour of the day; and just as they say of a king, "he is in the council-chamber," they always said here, "the emperor is in the wardrobe."
in the great city in which he lived there was always something going on; every day many strangers came there.
one day two impostors arrived who gave themselves out as weavers, and said that they knew how to manufacture the most beautiful cloth imaginable.
not only were the texture and pattern uncommonly beautiful, but the clothes which were made of the stuff possessed this wonderful property that they were invisible to anyone who was not fit for his office, or who was unpardonably stupid.
"those must indeed be splendid clothes," thought the emperor.
"if i had them on i could find out which men in my kingdom are unfit for the offices they hold; i could distinguish the wise from the stupid!
yes, this cloth must be woven for me at once."
and he gave both the impostors much money, so that they might begin their work.
they placed two weaving-looms, and began to do as if they were working, but they had not the least thing on the looms.
they also demanded the finest silk and the best gold, which they put in their pockets, and worked at the empty looms till late into the night."
i should like very much to know how far they have got on with the cloth," thought the emperor.
but he remembered when he thought about it that whoever was stupid or not fit for his office would not be able to see it.
now he certainly believed that he had nothing to fear for himself, but he wanted first to send somebody else in order to see how he stood with regard to his office.
everybody in the whole town knew what a wonderful power the cloth had, and they were all curious to see how bad or how stupid their neighbour was."
i will send my old and honoured minister to the weavers," thought the emperor.
"he can judge best what the cloth is like, for he has intellect, and no one understands his office better than he."
now the good old minister went into the hall where the two impostors sat working at the empty weaving-looms.
"dear me!"
thought the old minister, opening his eyes wide," i can see nothing!"
but he did not say so.
both the impostors begged him to be so kind as to step closer, and asked him if it were not a beautiful texture and lovely colours.
they pointed to the empty loom, and the poor old minister went forward rubbing his eyes; but he could see nothing, for there was nothing there.
"dear, dear!"
thought he, "can i be stupid?
i have never thought that, and nobody must know it!
can i be not fit for my office?
no, i must certainly not say that i can not see the cloth!"
"have you nothing to say about it?"
asked one of the men who was weaving.
"oh, it is lovely, most lovely!"
answered the old minister, looking through his spectacles.
"what a texture!
what colours!
yes, i will tell the emperor that it pleases me very much."
"now we are delighted at that," said both the weavers, and thereupon they named the colours and explained the make of the texture.
the old minister paid great attention, so that he could tell the same to the emperor when he came back to him, which he did.
the impostors now wanted more money, more silk, and more gold to use in their weaving.
they put it all in their own pockets, and there came no threads on the loom, but they went on as they had done before, working at the empty loom.
the emperor soon sent another worthy statesman to see how the weaving was getting on, and whether the cloth would soon be finished.
it was the same with him as the first one; he looked and looked, but because there was nothing on the empty loom he could see nothing.
"is it not a beautiful piece of cloth?"
asked the two impostors, and they pointed to and described the splendid material which was not there.
"stupid i am not!"
thought the man, "so it must be my good office for which i am not fitted.
it is strange, certainly, but no one must be allowed to notice it."
and so he praised the cloth which he did not see, and expressed to them his delight at the beautiful colours and the splendid texture.
"yes, it is quite beautiful," he said to the emperor.
everybody in the town was talking of the magnificent cloth.
now the emperor wanted to see it himself while it was still on the loom.
with a great crowd of select followers, amongst whom were both the worthy statesmen who had already been there before, he went to the cunning impostors, who were now weaving with all their might, but without fibre or thread.
"is it not splendid!"
said both the old statesmen who had already been there.
"see, your majesty, what a texture!
what colours!"
and then they pointed to the empty loom, for they believed that the others could see the cloth quite well.
"what!"
thought the emperor," i can see nothing!
this is indeed horrible!
am i stupid?
am i not fit to be emperor?
that were the most dreadful thing that could happen to me.
oh, it is very beautiful," he said.
"it has my gracious approval."
and then he nodded pleasantly, and examined the empty loom, for he would not say that he could see nothing.
his whole court round him looked and looked, and saw no more than the others; but they said like the emperor, "oh!
it is beautiful!"
and they advised him to wear these new and magnificent clothes for the first time at the great procession which was soon to take place.
"splendid!
lovely!
most beautiful!"
went from mouth to mouth; everyone seemed delighted over them, and the emperor gave to the impostors the title of court weavers to the emperor.
throughout the whole of the night before the morning on which the procession was to take place, the impostors were up and were working by the light of over sixteen candles.
the people could see that they were very busy making the emperor's new clothes ready.
they pretended they were taking the cloth from the loom, cut with huge scissors in the air, sewed with needles without thread, and then said at last, "now the clothes are finished!"
the emperor came himself with his most distinguished knights, and each impostor held up his arm just as if he were holding something, and said, "see!
here are the breeches!
here is the coat!
here the cloak!"
and so on.
"spun clothes are so comfortable that one would imagine one had nothing on at all; but that is the beauty of it!"
"yes," said all the knights, but they could see nothing, for there was nothing there.
"will it please your majesty graciously to take off your clothes," said the impostors, "then we will put on the new clothes, here before the mirror."
the emperor took off all his clothes, and the impostors placed themselves before him as if they were putting on each part of his new clothes which was ready, and the emperor turned and bent himself in front of the mirror.
"how beautifully they fit!
how well they sit!"
said everybody.
"what material!
what colours!
it is a gorgeous suit!"
"they are waiting outside with the canopy which your majesty is wont to have borne over you in the procession," announced the master of the ceremonies.
"look, i am ready," said the emperor.
"does n't it sit well!"
and he turned himself again to the mirror to see if his finery was on all right.
the chamberlains who were used to carry the train put their hands near the floor as if they were lifting up the train; then they did as if they were holding something in the air.
they would not have it noticed that they could see nothing.
so the emperor went along in the procession under the splendid canopy, and all the people in the streets and at the windows said, "how matchless are the emperor's new clothes!
that train fastened to his dress, how beautifully it hangs!"
no one wished it to be noticed that he could see nothing, for then he would have been unfit for his office, or else very stupid.
none of the emperor's clothes had met with such approval as these had.
"but he has nothing on!"
said a little child at last.
"just listen to the innocent child!"
said the father, and each one whispered to his neighbour what the child had said.
"but he has nothing on!"
the whole of the people called out at last.
this struck the emperor, for it seemed to him as if they were right; but he thought to himself," i must go on with the procession now.
and the chamberlains walked along still more uprightly, holding up the train which was not there at all.
the golden crab -lrb- 5 -rrb- -lrb- 5 -rrb- "prinz krebs," from griechische mahrchen.
schmidt.
once upon a time there was a fisherman who had a wife and three children.
every morning he used to go out fishing, and whatever fish he caught he sold to the king.
one day, among the other fishes, he caught a golden crab.
when he came home he put all the fishes together into a great dish, but he kept the crab separate because it shone so beautifully, and placed it upon a high shelf in the cupboard.
now while the old woman, his wife, was cleaning the fish, and had tucked up her gown so that her feet were visible, she suddenly heard a voice, which said: "let down, let down thy petticoat that lets thy feet be seen."
she turned round in surprise, and then she saw the little creature, the golden crab.
"what!
you can speak, can you, you ridiculous crab?"
she said, for she was not quite pleased at the crab's remarks.
then she took him up and placed him on a dish.
when her husband came home and they sat down to dinner, they presently heard the crab's little voice saying, "give me some too."
they were all very much surprised, but they gave him something to eat.
when the old man came to take away the plate which had contained the crab's dinner, he found it full of gold, and as the same thing happened every day he soon became very fond of the crab.
one day the crab said to the fisherman's wife, "go to the king and tell him i wish to marry his younger daughter."
the old woman went accordingly, and laid the matter before the king, who laughed a little at the notion of his daughter marrying a crab, but did not decline the proposal altogether, because he was a prudent monarch, and knew that the crab was likely to be a prince in disguise.
he said, therefore, to the fisherman's wife, "go, old woman, and tell the crab i will give him my daughter if by to-morrow morning he can build a wall in front of my castle much higher than my tower, upon which all the flowers of the world must grow and bloom."
the fisherman's wife went home and gave this message.
then the crab gave her a golden rod, and said, "go and strike with this rod three times upon the ground on the place which the king showed you, and to-morrow morning the wall will be there."
the old woman did so and went away again.
the next morning, when the king awoke, what do you think he saw?
the wall stood there before his eyes, exactly as he had bespoken it!
then the old woman went back to the king and said to him, "your majesty's orders have been fulfilled."
"that is all very well," said the king, "but i can not give away my daughter until there stands in front of my palace a garden in which there are three fountains, of which the first must play gold, the second diamonds, and the third brilliants."
so the old woman had to strike again three times upon the ground with the rod, and the next morning the garden was there.
the king now gave his consent, and the wedding was fixed for the very next day.
then the crab said to the old fisherman, "now take this rod; go and knock with it on a certain mountain; then a black man -lrb- 6 -rrb- will come out and ask you what you wish for.
answer him thus:" your master, the king, has sent me to tell you that you must send him his golden garment that is like the sun."
make him give you, besides, the queenly robes of gold and precious stones which are like the flowery meadows, and bring them both to me.
and bring me also the golden cushion."
-lrb- 6 -rrb- ein mohr.
the old man went and did his errand.
when he had brought the precious robes, the crab put on the golden garment and then crept upon the golden cushion, and in this way the fisherman carried him to the castle, where the crab presented the other garment to his bride.
now the ceremony took place, and when the married pair were alone together the crab made himself known to his young wife, and told her how he was the son of the greatest king in the world, and how he was enchanted, so that he became a crab by day and was a man only at night; and he could also change himself into an eagle as often as he wished.
no sooner had he said this than he shook himself, and immediately became a handsome youth, but the next morning he was forced to creep back again into his crab-shell.
and the same thing happened every day.
but the princess's affection for the crab, and the polite attention with which she behaved to him, surprised the royal family very much.
they suspected some secret, but though they spied and spied, they could not discover it.
thus a year passed away, and the princess had a son, whom she called benjamin.
but her mother still thought the whole matter very strange.
at last she said to the king that he ought to ask his daughter whether she would not like to have another husband instead of the crab?
but when the daughter was questioned she only answered: "i am married to the crab, and him only will i have."
then the king said to her," i will appoint a tournament in your honour, and i will invite all the princes in the world to it, and if any one of them pleases you, you shall marry him."
in the evening the princess told this to the crab, who said to her, "take this rod, go to the garden gate and knock with it, then a black man will come out and say to you," why have you called me, and what do you require of me?"
answer him thus: "your master the king has sent me hither to tell you to send him his golden armour and his steed and the silver apple."
and bring them to me."
the princess did so, and brought him what he desired.
the following evening the prince dressed himself for the tournament.
before he went he said to his wife, "now mind you do not say when you see me that i am the crab.
for if you do this evil will come of it.
place yourself at the window with your sisters; i will ride by and throw you the silver apple.
take it in your hand, but if they ask you who i am, say that you do not know."
so saying, he kissed her, repeated his warning once more, and went away.
the princess went with her sisters to the window and looked on at the tournament.
presently her husband rode by and threw the apple up to her.
she caught it in her hand and went with it to her room, and by-and-by her husband came back to her.
but her father was much surprised that she did not seem to care about any of the princes; he therefore appointed a second tournament.
the crab then gave his wife the same directions as before, only this time the apple which she received from the black man was of gold.
but before the prince went to the tournament he said to his wife, "now i know you will betray me to-day."
but she swore to him that she would not tell who he was.
he then repeated his warning and went away.
in the evening, while the princess, with her mother and sisters, was standing at the window, the prince suddenly galloped past on his steed and threw her the golden apple.
then her mother flew into a passion, gave her a box on the ear, and cried out, "does not even that prince please you, you fool?"
the princess in her fright exclaimed, "that is the crab himself!"
her mother was still more angry because she had not been told sooner, ran into her daughter's room where the crab-shell was still lying, took it up and threw it into the fire.
then the poor princess cried bitterly, but it was of no use; her husband did not come back.
now we must leave the princess and turn to the other persons in the story.
one day an old man went to a stream to dip in a crust of bread which he was going to eat, when a dog came out of the water, snatched the bread from his hand, and ran away.
the old man ran after him, but the dog reached a door, pushed it open, and ran in, the old man following him.
he did not overtake the dog, but found himself above a staircase, which he descended.
then he saw before him a stately palace, and, entering, he found in a large hall a table set for twelve persons.
he hid himself in the hall behind a great picture, that he might see what would happen.
at noon he heard a great noise, so that he trembled with fear.
when he took courage to look out from behind the picture, he saw twelve eagles flying in.
at this sight his fear became still greater.
the eagles flew to the basin of a fountain that was there and bathed themselves, when suddenly they were changed into twelve handsome youths.
now they seated themselves at the table, and one of them took up a goblet filled with wine, and said," a health to my father!"
and another said," a health to my mother!"
and so the healths went round.
then one of them said: "a health to my dearest lady, long may she live and well!
but a curse on the cruel mother that burnt my golden shell!"
and so saying he wept bitterly.
then the youths rose from the table, went back to the great stone fountain, turned themselves into eagles again, and flew away.
then the old man went away too, returned to the light of day, and went home.
soon after he heard that the princess was ill, and that the only thing that did her good was having stories told to her.
he therefore went to the royal castle, obtained an audience of the princess, and told her about the strange things he had seen in the underground palace.
no sooner had he finished than the princess asked him whether he could find the way to that palace.
"yes," he answered, "certainly."
and now she desired him to guide her thither at once.
the old man did so, and when they came to the palace he hid her behind the great picture and advised her to keep quite still, and he placed himself behind the picture also.
presently the eagles came flying in, and changed themselves into young men, and in a moment the princess recognised her husband amongst them all, and tried to come out of her hiding-place; but the old man held her back.
the youths seated themselves at the table; and now the prince said again, while he took up the cup of wine: "a health to my dearest lady, long may she live and well!
but a curse on the cruel mother that burnt my golden shell!"
then the princess could restrain herself no longer, but ran forward and threw her arms round her husband.
and immediately he knew her again, and said: "do you remember how i told you that day that you would betray me?
now you see that i spoke the truth.
but all that bad time is past.
now listen to me: i must still remain enchanted for three months.
will you stay here with me till that time is over?"
so the princess stayed with him, and said to the old man, "go back to the castle and tell my parents that i am staying here."
her parents were very much vexed when the old man came back and told them this, but as soon as the three months of the prince's enchantment were over, he ceased to be an eagle and became once more a man, and they returned home together.
and then they lived happily, and we who hear the story are happier still.
the iron stove -lrb- 7 -rrb- -lrb- 7 -rrb- grimm.
once upon a time when wishes came true there was a king's son who was enchanted by an old witch, so that he was obliged to sit in a large iron stove in a wood.
there he lived for many years, and no one could free him.
at last a king's daughter came into the wood; she had lost her way, and could not find her father's kingdom again.
she had been wandering round and round for nine days, and she came at last to the iron case.
a voice came from within and asked her, "where do you come from, and where do you want to go?"
she answered," i have lost my way to my father's kingdom, and i shall never get home again."
then the voice from the iron stove said," i will help you to find your home again, and that in a very short time, if you will promise to do what i ask you.
i am a greater prince than you are a princess, and i will marry you."
then she grew frightened, and thought, "what can a young lassie do with an iron stove?"
but as she wanted very much to go home to her father, she promised to do what he wished.
he said, "you must come again, and bring a knife with you to scrape a hole in the iron."
then he gave her someone for a guide, who walked near her and said nothing, but he brought her in two hours to her house.
there was great joy in the castle when the princess came back, and the old king fell on her neck and kissed her.
but she was very much troubled, and said, "dear father, listen to what has befallen me!
i should never have come home again out of the great wild wood if i had not come to an iron stove, to whom i have had to promise that i will go back to free him and marry him!"
the old king was so frightened that he nearly fainted, for she was his only daughter.
so they consulted together, and determined that the miller's daughter, who was very beautiful, should take her place.
they took her there, gave her a knife, and said she must scrape at the iron stove.
she scraped for twenty-four hours, but did not make the least impression.
when the day broke, a voice called from the iron stove, "it seems to me that it is day outside."
then she answered, "it seems so to me; i think i hear my father's mill rattling."
"so you are a miller's daughter!
then go away at once, and tell the king's daughter to come."
then she went away, and told the old king that the thing inside the iron stove would not have her, but wanted the princess.
the old king was frightened, and his daughter wept.
but they had a swineherd's daughter who was even more beautiful than the miller's daughter, and they gave her a piece of gold to go to the iron stove instead of the princess.
then she was taken out, and had to scrape for four-and-twenty hours, but she could make no impression.
as soon as the day broke the voice from the stove called out, "it seems to be daylight outside."
then she answered, "it seems so to me too; i think i hear my father blowing his horn."
"so you are a swineherd's daughter!
go away at once, and let the king's daughter come.
and say to her that what i foretell shall come to pass, and if she does not come everything in the kingdom shall fall into ruin, and not one stone shall be left upon another."
when the princess heard this she began to cry, but it was no good; she had to keep her word.
she took leave of her father, put a knife in her belt, and went to the iron stove in the wood.
as soon as she reached it she began to scrape, and the iron gave way and before two hours had passed she had made a little hole.
then she peeped in and saw such a beautiful youth all shining with gold and precious stones that she fell in love with him on the spot.
so she scraped away harder than ever, and made the hole so large that he could get out.
then he said, "you are mine, and i am thine; you are my bride and have set me free!"
he wanted to take her with him to his kingdom, but she begged him just to let her go once more to her father; and the prince let her go, but told her not to say more than three words to her father, then to come back again.
so she went home, but alas!
she said more than three words; and immediately the iron stove vanished and went away over a mountain of glass and sharp swords.
but the prince was free, and was no longer shut up in it.
then she said good-bye to her father, and took a little money with her, and went again into the great wood to look for the iron stove; but she could not find it.
she sought it for nine days, and then her hunger became so great that she did not know how she could live any longer.
and when it was evening she climbed a little tree and wished that the night would not come, because she was afraid of the wild beasts.
when midnight came she saw afar off a little light, and thought, "ah!
if only i could reach that!"
then she got down from the tree and went towards the light.
she came to a little old house with a great deal of grass growing round, and stood in front of a little heap of wood.
she thought, "alas!
what am i coming to?"
and peeped through the window; but she saw nothing inside except big and little toads, and a table beautifully spread with roast meats and wine, and all the dishes and drinking-cups were of silver.
then she took heart and knocked.
then a fat toad called out: "little green toad with leg like crook, open wide the door, and look who it was the latch that shook."
and a little toad came forward and let her in.
when she entered they all bid her welcome, and made her sit down.
they asked her how she came there and what she wanted.
then she told everything that had happened to her, and how, because she had exceeded her permission only to speak three words, the stove had disappeared with the prince; and how she had searched a very long time, and must wander over mountain and valley till she found him.
then the old toad said: "little green toad whose leg doth twist, go to the corner of which you wist, and bring to me the large old kist."
and the little toad went and brought out a great chest.
then they gave her food and drink, and led her to a beautifully made bed of silk and samite, on which she lay down and slept soundly.
when the day dawned she arose, and the old toad gave her three things out of the huge chest to take with her.
she would have need of them, for she had to cross a high glass mountain, three cutting swords, and a great lake.
when she had passed these she would find her lover again.
so she was given three large needles, a plough-wheel, and three nuts, which she was to take great care of.
she set out with these things, and when she came to the glass mountain which was so slippery she stuck the three needles behind her feet and then in front, and so got over it, and when she was on the other side put them carefully away.
then she reached the three cutting swords, and got on her plough-wheel and rolled over them.
at last she came to a great lake, and, when she had crossed that, arrived at a beautiful castle.
she went in and gave herself out as a servant, a poor maid who would gladly be engaged.
but she knew that the prince whom she had freed from the iron stove in the great wood was in the castle.
so she was taken on as a kitchen-maid for very small wages.
now the prince was about to marry another princess, for he thought she was dead long ago.
in the evening, when she had washed up and was ready, she felt in her pocket and found the three nuts which the old toad had given her.
she cracked one and was going to eat the kernel, when behold!
there was a beautiful royal dress inside it!
when the bride heard of this, she came and begged for the dress, and wanted to buy it, saying that it was not a dress for a serving-maid.
then she said she would not sell it unless she was granted one favour -- namely, to sleep by the prince's door.
the bride granted her this, because the dress was so beautiful and she had so few like it.
when it was evening she said to her bridegroom, "that stupid maid wants to sleep by your door."
"if you are contented, i am," he said.
but she gave him a glass of wine in which she had poured a sleeping-draught.
then they both went to his room, but he slept so soundly that she could not wake him.
the maid wept all night long, and said," i freed you in the wild wood out of the iron stove; i have sought you, and have crossed a glassy mountain, three sharp swords, and a great lake before i found you, and will you not hear me now?"
the servants outside heard how she cried the whole night, and they told their master in the morning.
when she had washed up the next evening she bit the second nut, and there was a still more beautiful dress inside.
when the bride saw it she wanted to buy it also.
but the maid did not want money, and asked that she should sleep again by the prince's door.
the bride, however, gave him a sleeping-draught, and he slept so soundly that he heard nothing.
but the kitchen-maid wept the whole night long, and said," i have freed you in a wood and from an iron stove; i sought you and have crossed a glassy mountain, three sharp swords, and a great lake to find you, and now you will not hear me!"
the servants outside heard how she cried the whole night, and in the morning they told their master.
and when she had washed up on the third night she bit the third nut, and there was a still more beautiful dress inside that was made of pure gold.
when the bride saw it she wanted to have it, but the maid would only give it her on condition that she should sleep for the third time by the prince's door.
but the prince took care not to drink the sleeping-draught.
when she began to weep and to say, "dearest sweetheart, i freed you in the horrible wild wood, and from an iron stove," he jumped up and said, "you are right.
you are mine, and i am thine."
though it was still night, he got into a carriage with her, and they took the false bride's clothes away, so that she could not follow them.
when they came to the great lake they rowed across, and when they reached the three sharp swords they sat on the plough-wheel, and on the glassy mountain they stuck the three needles in.
so they arrived at last at the little old house, but when they stepped inside it turned into a large castle.
the toads were all freed, and were beautiful king's children, running about for joy.
there they were married, and they remained in the castle, which was much larger than that of the princess's father's.
but because the old man did not like being left alone, they went and fetched him.
so they had two kingdoms and lived in great wealth.
a mouse has run, my story's done.
the dragon and his grandmother there was once a great war, and the king had a great many soldiers, but he gave them so little pay that they could not live upon it.
then three of them took counsel together and determined to desert.
one of them said to the others, "if we are caught, we shall be hanged on the gallows; how shall we set about it?"
the other said, "do you see that large cornfield there?
if we were to hide ourselves in that, no one could find us.
the army can not come into it, and to-morrow it is to march on."
they crept into the corn, but the army did not march on, but remained encamped close around them.
they sat for two days and two nights in the corn, and grew so hungry that they nearly died; but if they were to venture out, it was certain death.
they said at last, "what use was it our deserting?
we must perish here miserably."
whilst they were speaking a fiery dragon came flying through the air.
it hovered near them, and asked why they were hidden there.
they answered, "we are three soldiers, and have deserted because our pay was so small.
now if we remain here we shall die of hunger, and if we move out we shall be strung up on the gallows."
"if you will serve me for seven years," said the dragon, i will lead you through the midst of the army so that no one shall catch you."
"we have no choice, and must take your offer," said they.
then the dragon seized them in his claws, took them through the air over the army, and set them down on the earth a long way from it.
he gave them a little whip, saying, "whip and slash with this, and as much money as you want will jump up before you.
you can then live as great lords, keep horses, and drive about in carriages.
but after seven years you are mine."
then he put a book before them, which he made all three of them sign."
i will then give you a riddle," he said; "if you guess it, you shall be free and out of my power."
the dragon then flew away, and they journeyed on with their little whip.
they had as much money as they wanted, wore grand clothes, and made their way into the world.
wherever they went they lived in merrymaking and splendour, drove about with horses and carriages, ate and drank, but did nothing wrong.
the time passed quickly away, and when the seven years were nearly ended two of them grew terribly anxious and frightened, but the third made light of it, saying, "do n't be afraid, brothers, i was n't born yesterday; i will guess the riddle."
they went into a field, sat down, and the two pulled long faces.
an old woman passed by, and asked them why they were so sad.
"alas!
what have you to do with it?
you can not help us."
"who knows?"
she answered.
"only confide your trouble in me."
then they told her that they had become the servants of the dragon for seven long years, and how he had given them money as plentifully as blackberries; but as they had signed their names they were his, unless when the seven years had passed they could guess a riddle.
the old woman said, "if you would help yourselves, one of you must go into the wood, and there he will come upon a tumble-down building of rocks which looks like a little house.
he must go in, and there he will find help."
the two melancholy ones thought, "that wo n't save us!"
and they remained where they were.
but the third and merry one jumped up and went into the wood till he found the rock hut.
in the hut sat a very old woman, who was the dragon's grandmother.
she asked him how he came, and what was his business there.
he told her all that happened, and because she was pleased with him she took compassion on him, and said she would help him.
she lifted up a large stone which lay over the cellar, saying, "hide yourself there; you can hear all that is spoken in this room.
only sit still and do n't stir.
when the dragon comes, i will ask him what the riddle is, for he tells me everything; then listen carefully what he answers."
at midnight the dragon flew in, and asked for his supper.
his grandmother laid the table, and brought out food and drink till he was satisfied, and they ate and drank together.
then in the course of the conversation she asked him what he had done in the day, and how many souls he had conquered."
i have n't had much luck to-day," he said, "but i have a tight hold on three soldiers."
"indeed!
three soldiers!"
said she.
"who can not escape you?"
"they are mine," answered the dragon scornfully, "for i shall only give them one riddle which they will never be able to guess."
"what sort of a riddle is it?"
she asked."
i will tell you this.
in the north sea lies a dead sea-cat -- that shall be their roast meat; and the rib of a whale -- that shall be their silver spoon; and the hollow foot of a dead horse -- that shall be their wineglass."
when the dragon had gone to bed, his old grandmother pulled up the stone and let out the soldier.
"did you pay attention to everything?"
"yes," he replied," i know enough, and can help myself splendidly."
then he went by another way through the window secretly, and in all haste back to his comrades.
he told them how the dragon had been outwitted by his grandmother, and how he had heard from his own lips the answer to the riddle.
then they were all delighted and in high spirits, took out their whip, and cracked so much money that it came jumping up from the ground.
when the seven years had quite gone, the fiend came with his book, and, pointing at the signatures, said," i will take you underground with me; you shall have a meal there.
if you can tell me what you will get for your roast meat, you shall be free, and shall also keep the whip."
then said the first soldier, "in the north sea lies a dead sea-cat; that shall be the roast meat."
the dragon was much annoyed, and hummed and hawed a good deal, and asked the second, "but what shall be your spoon?"
"the rib of a whale shall be our silver spoon."
the dragon-made a face, and growled again three times, "hum, hum, hum," and said to the third, "do you know what your wineglass shall be?"
"an old horse's hoof shall be our wineglass."
then the dragon flew away with a loud shriek, and had no more power over them.
but the three soldiers took the little whip, whipped as much money as they wanted, and lived happily to their lives end.
the donkey cabbage there was once a young hunter who went boldly into the forest.
he had a merry and light heart, and as he went whistling along there came an ugly old woman, who said to him, "good-day, dear hunter!
you are very merry and contented, but i suffer hunger and thirst, so give me a trifle."
the hunter was sorry for the poor old woman, and he felt in his pocket and gave her all he could spare.
he was going on then, but the old woman stopped him and said, "listen, dear hunter, to what i say.
because of your kind heart i will make you a present.
go on your way, and in a short time you will come to a tree on which sit nine birds who have a cloak in their claws and are quarrelling over it.
then take aim with your gun and shoot in the middle of them; they will let the cloak fall, but one of the birds will be hit and will drop down dead.
take the cloak with you; it is a wishing-cloak, and when you throw it on your shoulders you have only to wish yourself at a certain place, and in the twinkling of an eye you are there.
take the heart out of the dead bird and swallow it whole, and early every morning when you get up you will find a gold piece under your pillow."
the hunter thanked the wise woman, and thought to himself "these are splendid things she has promised me, if only they come to pass!"
so he walked on about a hundred yards, and then he heard above him in the branches such a screaming and chirping that he looked up, and there he saw a heap of birds tearing a cloth with their beaks and feet, shrieking, tugging, and fighting, as if each wanted it for himself.
"well," said the hunter, "this is wonderful!
it is just as the old woman said"; and he took his gun on his shoulder, pulled the trigger, and shot into the midst of them, so that their feathers flew about.
then the flock took flight with much screaming, but one fell dead, and the cloak fluttered down.
then the hunter did as the old woman had told him: he cut open the bird, found its heart, swallowed it, and took the cloak home with him.
the next morning when he awoke he remembered the promise, and wanted to see if it had come true.
but when he lifted up his pillow, there sparkled the gold piece, and the next morning he found another, and so on every time he got up.
he collected a heap of gold, but at last he thought to himself, "what good is all my gold to me if i stay at home?
i will travel and look a bit about me in the world."
so he took leave of his parents, slung his hunting knapsack and his gun round him, and journeyed into the world.
it happened that one day he went through a thick wood, and when he came to the end of it there lay in the plain before him a large castle.
at one of the windows in it stood an old woman with a most beautiful maiden by her side, looking out.
but the old woman was a witch, and she said to the girl, "there comes one out of the wood who has a wonderful treasure in his body which we must manage to possess ourselves of, darling daughter; we have more right to it than he.
he has a bird's heart in him, and so every morning there lies a gold piece under his pillow."
she told her how they could get hold of it, and how she was to coax it from him, and at last threatened her angrily, saying, "and if you do not obey me, you shall repent it!"
when the hunter came nearer he saw the maiden, and said to himself," i have travelled so far now that i will rest, and turn into this beautiful castle; money i have in plenty."
but the real reason was that he had caught sight of the lovely face.
he went into the house, and was kindly received and hospitably entertained.
it was not long before he was so much in love with the witch-maiden that he thought of nothing else, and only looked in her eyes, and whatever she wanted, that he gladly did.
then the old witch said, "now we must have the bird-heart; he will not feel when it is gone."
she prepared a drink, and when it was ready she poured it in a goblet and gave it to the maiden, who had to hand it to the hunter.
"drink to me now, my dearest," she said.
then he took the goblet, and when he had swallowed the drink the bird-heart came out of his mouth.
the maiden had to get hold of it secretly and then swallow it herself, for the old witch wanted to have it.
thenceforward he found no more gold under his pillow, and it lay under the maiden's; but he was so much in love and so much bewitched that he thought of nothing except spending all his time with the maiden.
then the old witch said, "we have the bird-heart, but we must also get the wishing-cloak from him."
the maiden answered, "we will leave him that; he has already lost his wealth!"
the old witch grew angry, and said, "such a cloak is a wonderful thing, it is seldom to be had in the world, and have it i must and will."
she beat the maiden, and said that if she did not obey it would go ill with her.
so she did her mother's bidding, and, standing one day by the window, she looked away into the far distance as if she were very sad.
"why are you standing there looking so sad?"
asked the hunter.
"alas, my love," she replied, "over there lies the granite mountain where the costly precious stones grow.
i have a great longing to go there, so that when i think of it i am very sad.
for who can fetch them?
only the birds who fly; a man, never."
"if you have no other trouble," said the hunter, "that one i can easily remove from your heart."
so he wrapped her round in his cloak and wished themselves to the granite mountain, and in an instant there they were, sitting on it!
the precious stones sparkled so brightly on all sides that it was a pleasure to see them, and they collected the most beautiful and costly together.
but now the old witch had through her caused the hunter's eyes to become heavy.
he said to the maiden, "we will sit down for a little while and rest; i am so tired that i can hardly stand on my feet."
so they sat down, and he laid his head on her lap and fell asleep.
as soon as he was sound asleep she unfastened the cloak from his shoulders, threw it on her own, left the granite and stones, and wished herself home again.
but when the hunter had finished his sleep and awoke, he found that his love had betrayed him and left him alone on the wild mountain.
"oh," said he, "why is faithlessness so great in the world?"
and he sat down in sorrow and trouble, not knowing what to do.
but the mountain belonged to fierce and huge giants, who lived on it and traded there, and he had not sat long before he saw three of them striding towards him.
so he lay down as if he had fallen into a deep sleep.
the giants came up, and the first pushed him with his foot, and said, "what sort of an earthworm is that?"
the second said, "crush him dead."
but the third said contemptuously, "it is not worth the trouble!
let him live; he can not remain here, and if he goes higher up the mountain the clouds will take him and carry him off."
talking thus they went away.
but the hunter had listened to their talk, and as soon as they had gone he rose and climbed to the summit.
when he had sat there a little while a cloud swept by, and, seizing him, carried him away.
it travelled for a time in the sky, and then it sank down and hovered over a large vegetable garden surrounded by walls, so that he came safely to the ground amidst cabbages and vegetables.
the hunter then looked about him, saying, "if only i had something to eat!
i am so hungry, and it will go badly with me in the future, for i see here not an apple or pear or fruit of any kind -- nothing but vegetables everywhere."
at last he thought, "at a pinch i can eat a salad; it does not taste particularly nice, but it will refresh me."
so he looked about for a good head and ate it, but no sooner had he swallowed a couple of mouthfuls than he felt very strange, and found himself wonderfully changed.
four legs began to grow on him, a thick head, and two long ears, and he saw with horror that he had changed into a donkey.
but as he was still very hungry and this juicy salad tasted very good to his present nature, he went on eating with a still greater appetite.
at last he got hold of another kind of cabbage, but scarcely had swallowed it when he felt another change, and he once more regained his human form.
the hunter now lay down and slept off his weariness.
when he awoke the next morning he broke off a head of the bad and a head of the good cabbage, thinking, "this will help me to regain my own, and to punish faithlessness."
then he put the heads in his pockets, climbed the wall, and started off to seek the castle of his love.
when he had wandered about for a couple of days he found it quite easily.
he then browned his face quickly, so that his own mother would not have known him, and went into the castle, where he begged for a lodging."
i am so tired," he said," i can go no farther."
the witch asked, "countryman, who are you, and what is your business?"
he answered," i am a messenger of the king, and have been sent to seek the finest salad that grows under the sun.
i have been so lucky as to find it, and am bringing it with me; but the heat of the sun is so great that the tender cabbage threatens to grow soft, and i do not know if i shall be able to bring it any farther."
when the old witch heard of the fine salad she wanted to eat it, and said, "dear countryman, just let me taste the wonderful salad."
"why not?"
he answered;" i have brought two heads with me, and will give you one."
so saying, he opened his sack and gave her the bad one.
the witch suspected no evil, and her mouth watered to taste the new dish, so that she went into the kitchen to prepare it herself.
when it was ready she could not wait till it was served at the table, but she immediately took a couple of leaves and put them in her mouth.
no sooner, however, had she swallowed them than she lost human form, and ran into the courtyard in the shape of a donkey.
now the servant came into the kitchen, and when she saw the salad standing there ready cooked she was about to carry it up, but on the way, according to her old habit, she tasted it and ate a couple of leaves.
immediately the charm worked, and she became a donkey, and ran out to join the old witch, and the dish with the salad in it fell to the ground.
in the meantime, the messenger was sitting with the lovely maiden, and as no one came with the salad, and she wanted very much to taste it, she said," i do n't know where the salad is."
then thought the hunter, "the cabbage must have already begun to work."
and he said," i will go to the kitchen and fetch it myself."
when he came there he saw the two donkeys running about in the courtyard, but the salad was lying on the ground.
"that's all right," said he; "two have had their share!"
and lifting the remaining leaves up, he laid them on the dish and brought them to the maiden."
i am bringing you the delicious food my own self," he said, "so that you need not wait any longer."
then she ate, and, as the others had done, she at once lost her human form, and ran as a donkey into the yard.
when the hunter had washed his face, so that the changed ones might know him, he went into the yard, saying, "now you shall receive a reward for your faithlessness."
he tied them all three with a rope, and drove them away till he came to a mill.
he knocked at the window, and the miller put his head out and asked what he wanted."
i have three tiresome animals," he answered, "which i do n't want to keep any longer.
if you will take them, give them food and stabling, and do as i tell you with them, i will pay you as much as you want."
the miller replied, "why not?
what shall i do with them?"
then the hunter said that to the old donkey, which was the witch, three beatings and one meal; to the younger one, which was the servant, one beating and three meals; and to the youngest one, which was the maiden, no beating and three meals; for he could not find it in his heart to let the maiden be beaten.
then he went back into the castle, and he found there all that he wanted.
after a couple of days the miller came and said that he must tell him that the old donkey which was to have three beatings and only one meal had died.
"the two others," he added, "are certainly not dead, and get their three meals every day, but they are so sad that they can not last much longer."
then the hunter took pity on them, laid aside his anger, and told the miller to drive them back again.
and when they came he gave them some of the good cabbage to eat, so that they became human again.
then the beautiful maiden fell on her knees before him, saying, "oh, my dearest, forgive me the ill i have done you!
my mother compelled me to do it; it was against my will, for i love you dearly.
your wishing-cloak is hanging in a cupboard, and as for the bird-heart i will make a drink and give it back to you."
but he changed his mind, and said, "keep it; it makes no difference, for i will take you to be my own dear true wife."
and the wedding was celebrated, and they lived happy together till death.
the little green frog -lrb- 8 -rrb- -lrb- 8 -rrb- cabinet des fees.
in a part of the world whose name i forget lived once upon a time two kings, called peridor and diamantino.
they were cousins as well as neighbours, and both were under the protection of the fairies; though it is only fair to say that the fairies did not love them half so well as their wives did.
now it often happens that as princes can generally manage to get their own way it is harder for them to be good than it is for common people.
so it was with peridor and diamantino; but of the two, the fairies declared that diamantino was much the worst; indeed, he behaved so badly to his wife aglantino, that the fairies would not allow him to live any longer; and he died, leaving behind him a little daughter.
as she was an only child, of course this little girl was the heiress of the kingdom, but, being still only a baby, her mother, the widow of diamantino, was proclaimed regent.
the queen-dowager was wise and good, and tried her best to make her people happy.
the only thing she had to vex her was the absence of her daughter; for the fairies, for reasons of their own, determined to bring up the little princess serpentine among themselves.
as to the other king, he was really fond of his wife, queen constance, but he often grieved her by his thoughtless ways, and in order to punish him for his carelessness, the fairies caused her to die quite suddenly.
when she was gone the king felt how much he had loved her, and his grief was so great -lrb- though he never neglected his duties -rrb- that his subjects called him peridor the sorrowful.
it seems hardly possible that any man should live like peridor for fifteen years plunged in such depth of grief, and most likely he would have died too if it had not been for the fairies.
the one comfort the poor king had was his son, prince saphir, who was only three years old at the time of his mother's death, and great care was given to his education.
by the time he was fifteen saphir had learnt everything that a prince should know, and he was, besides, charming and agreeable.
it was about this time that the fairies suddenly took fright lest his love for his father should interfere with the plans they had made for the young prince.
so, to prevent this, they placed in a pretty little room of which saphir was very fond a little mirror in a black frame, such as were often brought from venice.
the prince did not notice for some days that there was anything new in the room, but at last he perceived it, and went up to look at it more closely.
what was his surprise to see reflected in the mirror, not his own face, but that of a young girl as lovely as the morning!
and, better still, every movement of the girl, just growing out of childhood, was also reflected in the wonderful glass.
as might have been expected, the young prince lost his heart completely to the beautiful image, and it was impossible to get him out of the room, so busy was he in watching the lovely unknown.
certainly it was very delightful to be able to see her whom he loved at any moment he chose, but his spirits sometimes sank when he wondered what was to be the end of this adventure.
the magic mirror had been for about a year in the prince's possession, when one day a new subject of disquiet seized upon him.
as usual, he was engaged in looking at the girl, when suddenly he thought he saw a second mirror reflected in the first, exactly like his own, and with the same power.
and in this he was perfectly right.
the young girl had only possessed it for a short time, and neglected all her duties for the sake of the mirror.
now it was not difficult for saphir to guess the reason of the change in her, nor why the new mirror was consulted so often; but try as he would he could never see the face of the person who was reflected in it, for the young girl's figure always came between.
all he knew was that the face was that of a man, and this was quite enough to make him madly jealous.
this was the doing of the fairies, and we must suppose that they had their reasons for acting as they did.
when these things happened saphir was about eighteen years old, and fifteen years had passed away since the death of his mother.
king peridor had grown more and more unhappy as time went on, and at last he fell so ill that it seemed as if his days were numbered.
he was so much beloved by his subjects that this sad news was heard with despair by the nation, and more than all by the prince.
during his whole illness the king never spoke of anything but the queen, his sorrow at having grieved her, and his hope of one day seeing her again.
all the doctors and all the water-cures in the kingdom had been tried, and nothing would do him any good.
at last he persuaded them to let him lie quietly in his room, where no one came to trouble him.
perhaps the worst pain he had to bear was a sort of weight on his chest, which made it very hard for him to breathe.
so he commanded his servants to leave the windows open in order that he might get more air.
one day, when he had been left alone for a few minutes, a bird with brilliant plumage came and fluttered round the window, and finally rested on the sill.
his feathers were sky-blue and gold, his feet and his beak of such glittering rubies that no one could bear to look at them, his eyes made the brightest diamonds look dull, and on his head he wore a crown.
i can not tell you what the crown was made of, but i am quite certain that it was still more splendid than all the rest.
as to his voice i can say nothing about that, for the bird never sang at all.
in fact, he did nothing but gaze steadily at the king, and as he gazed, the king felt his strength come back to him.
in a little while the bird flew into the room, still with his eyes fixed on the king, and at every glance the strength of the sick man became greater, till he was once more as well as he used to be before the queen died.
filled with joy at his cure, he tried to seize the bird to whom he owed it all, but, swifter than a swallow, it managed to avoid him.
in vain he described the bird to his attendants, who rushed at his first call; in vain they sought the wonderful creature both on horse and foot, and summoned the fowlers to their aid: the bird could nowhere be found.
the love the people bore king peridor was so strong, and the reward he promised was so large, that in the twinkling of an eye every man, woman, and child had fled into the fields, and the towns were quite empty.
all this bustle, however, ended in nothing but confusion, and, what was worse, the king soon fell back into the same condition as he was in before.
prince saphir, who loved his father very dearly, was so unhappy at this that he persuaded himself that he might succeed where the others had failed, and at once prepared himself for a more distant search.
in spite of the opposition he met with, he rode away, followed by his household, trusting to chance to help him.
he had formed no plan, and there was no reason that he should choose one path more than another.
his only idea was to make straight for those spots which were the favourite haunts of birds.
but in vain he examined all the hedges and all the thickets; in vain he questioned everyone he met along the road.
the more he sought the less he found.
at last he came to one of the largest forests in all the world, composed entirely of cedars.
but in spite of the deep shadows cast by the wide-spreading branches of the trees, the grass underneath was soft and green, and covered with the rarest flowers.
it seemed to saphir that this was exactly the place where the birds would choose to live, and he determined not to quit the wood until he had examined it from end to end.
and he did more.
he ordered some nets to be prepared and painted of the same colours as the bird's plumage, thinking that we are all easily caught by what is like ourselves.
in this he had to help him not only the fowlers by profession, but also his attendants, who excelled in this art.
for a man is not a courtier unless he can do everything.
after searching as usual for nearly a whole day prince saphir began to feel overcome with thirst.
he was too tired to go any farther, when happily he discovered a little way off a bubbling fountain of the clearest water.
being an experienced traveller, he drew from his pocket a little cup -lrb- without which no one should ever take a journey -rrb-, and was just about to dip it in the water, when a lovely little green frog, much prettier than frogs generally are, jumped into the cup.
far from admiring its beauty, saphir shook it impatiently off; but it was no good, for quick as lightning the frog jumped back again.
saphir, who was raging with thirst, was just about to shake it off anew, when the little creature fixed upon him the most beautiful eyes in the world, and said," i am a friend of the bird you are seeking, and when you have quenched your thirst listen to me."
so the prince drank his fill, and then, by the command of the little green frog, he lay down on the grass to rest himself.
"now," she began, "be sure you do exactly in every respect what i tell you.
first you must call together your attendants, and order them to remain in a little hamlet close by until you want them.
then go, quite alone, down a road that you will find on your right hand, looking southwards.
this road is planted all the way with cedars of lebanon; and after going down it a long way you will come at last to a magnificent castle.
and now," she went on, "attend carefully to what i am going to say.
take this tiny grain of sand, and put it into the ground as close as you can to the gate of the castle.
it has the virtue both of opening the gate and also of sending to sleep all the inhabitants.
then go at once to the stable, and pay no heed to anything except what i tell you.
choose the handsomest of all the horses, leap quickly on its back, and come to me as fast as you can.
farewell, prince; i wish you good luck," and with these words the little frog plunged into the water and disappeared.
the prince, who felt more hopeful than he had done since he left home, did precisely as he had been ordered.
he left his attendants in the hamlet, found the road the frog had described to him, and followed it all alone, and at last he arrived at the gate of the castle, which was even more splendid than he had expected, for it was built of crystal, and all its ornaments were of massive gold.
however, he had no thoughts to spare for its beauty, and quickly buried his grain of sand in the earth.
in one instant the gates flew open, and all the dwellers inside fell sound asleep.
saphir flew straight to the stable, and already had his hand on the finest horse it contained, when his eye was caught by a suit of magnificent harness hanging up close by.
it occurred to him directly that the harness belonged to the horse, and without ever thinking of harm -lrb- for indeed he who steals a horse can hardly be blamed for taking his saddle -rrb-, he hastily placed it on the animal's back.
suddenly the people in the castle became broad awake, and rushed to the stable.
they flung themselves on the prince, seized him, and dragged him before their lord; but, luckily for the prince, who could only find very lame excuses for his conduct, the lord of the castle took a fancy to his face, and let him depart without further questions.
very sad, and very much ashamed of himself poor saphir crept back to the fountain, where the frog was awaiting him with a good scolding.
"whom do you take me for?"
she exclaimed angrily.
"do you really believe that it was just for the pleasure of talking that i gave you the advice you have neglected so abominably?"
but the prince was so deeply grieved, and apologised so very humbly, that after some time the heart of the good little frog was softened, and she gave him another tiny little grain, but instead of being sand it was now a grain of gold.
she directed him to do just as he had done before, with only this difference, that instead of going to the stable which had been the ruin of his hopes, he was to enter right into the castle itself, and to glide as fast as he could down the passages till he came to a room filled with perfume, where he would find a beautiful maiden asleep on a bed.
he was to wake the maiden instantly and carry her off, and to be sure not to pay any heed to whatever resistance she might make.
the prince obeyed the frog's orders one by one, and all went well for this second time also.
the gate opened, the inhabitants fell sound asleep, and he walked down the passage till he found the girl on her bed, exactly as he had been told he would.
he woke her, and begged her firmly, but politely, to follow him quickly.
after a little persuasion the maiden consented, but only on condition that she was allowed first to put on her dress.
this sounded so reasonable and natural that it did not enter the prince's head to refuse her request.
but the maiden's hand had hardly touched the dress when the palace suddenly awoke from its sleep, and the prince was seized and bound.
he was so vexed with his own folly, and so taken aback at the disaster, that he did not attempt to explain his conduct, and things would have gone badly with him if his friends the fairies had not softened the hearts of his captors, so that they once more allowed him to leave quietly.
however, what troubled him most was the idea of having to meet the frog who had been his benefactress.
how was he ever to appear before her with this tale?
still, after a long struggle with himself, he made up his mind that there was nothing else to be done, and that he deserved whatever she might say to him.
and she said a great deal, for she had worked herself into a terrible passion; but the prince humbly implored her pardon, and ventured to point out that it would have been very hard to refuse the young lady's reasonable request.
"you must learn to do as you are told," was all the frog would reply.
but poor saphir was so unhappy, and begged so hard for forgiveness, that at last the frog's anger gave way, and she held up to him a tiny diamond stone.
"go back," she said, "to the castle, and bury this little diamond close to the door.
but be careful not to return to the stable or to the bedroom; they have proved too fatal to you.
walk straight to the garden and enter through a portico, into a small green wood, in the midst of which is a tree with a trunk of gold and leaves of emeralds.
perched on this tree you will see the beautiful bird you have been seeking so long.
you must cut the branch on which it is sitting, and bring it back to me without delay.
but i warn you solemnly that if you disobey my directions, as you have done twice before, you have nothing more to expect either of me or anyone else."
with these words she jumped into the water, and the prince, who had taken her threats much to heart, took his departure, firmly resolved not to deserve them.
he found it all just as he had been told: the portico, the wood, the magnificent tree, and the beautiful bird, which was sleeping soundly on one of the branches.
he speedily lopped off the branch, and though he noticed a splendid golden cage hanging close by, which would have been very useful for the bird to travel in, he left it alone, and came back to the fountain, holding his breath and walking on tip-toe all the way, for fear lest he should awake his prize.
but what was his surprise, when instead of finding the fountain in the spot where he had left it, he saw in its place a little rustic palace built in the best taste, and standing in the doorway a charming maiden, at whose sight his mind seemed to give way.
"what!
madam!"
he cried, hardly knowing what he said.
"what!
is it you?"
the maiden blushed and answered: "ah, my lord, it is long since i first beheld your face, but i did not think you had ever seen mine."
"oh, madam," replied he, "you can never guess the days and the hours i have passed lost in admiration of you."
and after these words they each related all the strange things that had happened, and the more they talked the more they felt convinced of the truth of the images they had seen in their mirrors.
after some time spent in the most tender conversation, the prince could not restrain himself from asking the lovely unknown by what lucky chance she was wandering in the forest; where the fountain had gone; and if she knew anything of the frog to whom he owed all his happiness, and to whom he must give up the bird, which, somehow or other, was still sound asleep.
"ah, my lord," she replied, with rather an awkward air, "as to the frog, she stands before you.
let me tell you my story; it is not a long one.
i know neither my country nor my parents, and the only thing i can say for certain is that i am called serpentine.
the fairies, who have taken care of me ever since i was born, wished me to be in ignorance as to my family, but they have looked after my education, and have bestowed on me endless kindness.
i have always lived in seclusion, and for the last two years i have wished for nothing better.
i had a mirror" -- here shyness and embarrassment choked her words -- but regaining her self-control, she added, "you know that fairies insist on being obeyed without questioning.
it was they who changed the little house you saw before you into the fountain for which you are now asking, and, having turned me into a frog, they ordered me to say to the first person who came to the fountain exactly what i repeated to you.
but, my lord, when you stood before me, it was agony to my heart, filled as it was with thoughts of you, to appear to your eyes under so monstrous a form.
however, there was no help for it, and, painful as it was, i had to submit.
i desired your success with all my soul, not only for your own sake, but also for my own, because i could not get back my proper shape till you had become master of the beautiful bird, though i am quite ignorant as to your reason for seeking it."
on this saphir explained about the state of his father's health, and all that has been told before.
on hearing this story serpentine grew very sad, and her lovely eyes filled with tears.
"ah, my lord," she said, "you know nothing of me but what you have seen in the mirror; and i, who can not even name my parents, learn that you are a king's son."
in vain saphir declared that love made them equal; serpentine would only reply: "i love you too much to allow you to marry beneath your rank.
i shall be very unhappy, of course, but i shall never alter my mind.
if i do not find from the fairies that my birth is worthy of you, then, whatever be my feelings, i will never accept your hand."
the conversation was at this point, and bid fair to last some time longer, when one of the fairies appeared in her ivory car, accompanied by a beautiful woman past her early youth.
at this moment the bird suddenly awakened, and, flying on to saphir's shoulder -lrb- which it never afterwards left -rrb-, began fondling him as well as a bird can do.
the fairy told serpentine that she was quite satisfied with her conduct, and made herself very agreeable to saphir, whom she presented to the lady she had brought with her, explaining that the lady was no other than his aunt aglantine, widow of diamantino.
then they all fell into each other's arms, till the fairy mounted her chariot, placed aglantine by her side, and saphir and serpentine on the front seat.
she also sent a message to the prince's attendants that they might travel slowly back to the court of king peridor, and that the beautiful bird had really been found.
this matter being comfortably arranged, she started off her chariot.
but in spite of the swiftness with which they flew through the air, the time passed even quicker for saphir and serpentine, who had so much to think about.
they were still quite confused with the pleasure of seeing each other, when the chariot arrived at king peridor's palace.
he had had himself carried to a room on the roof, where his nurses thought that he would die at any moment.
directly the chariot drew within sight of the castle the beautiful bird took flight, and, making straight for the dying king, at once cured him of his sickness.
then she resumed her natural shape, and he found that the bird was no other than the queen constance, whom he had long believed to be dead.
peridor was rejoiced to embrace his wife and his son once more, and with the help of the fairies began to make preparations for the marriage of saphir and serpentine, who turned out to be the daughter of aglantine and diamantino, and as much a princess as he was a prince.
the people of the kingdom were delighted, and everybody lived happy and contented to the end of their lives.
the seven-headed serpent -lrb- 9 -rrb- -lrb- 9 -rrb- "die siebenkopfige schlange," from schmidt's griechische mahrchen.
once upon a time there was a king who determined to take a long voyage.
he assembled his fleet and all the seamen, and set out.
they went straight on night and day, until they came to an island which was covered with large trees, and under every tree lay a lion.
as soon as the king had landed his men, the lions all rose up together and tried to devour them.
after a long battle they managed to overcome the wild beasts, but the greater number of the men were killed.
those who remained alive now went on through the forest and found on the other side of it a beautiful garden, in which all the plants of the world flourished together.
there were also in the garden three springs: the first flowed with silver, the second with gold, and the third with pearls.
the men unbuckled their knapsacks and filled them with those precious things.
in the middle of the garden they found a large lake, and when they reached the edge of it the lake began to speak, and said to them, "what men are you, and what brings you here?
are you come to visit our king?"
but they were too much frightened to answer.
then the lake said, "you do well to be afraid, for it is at your peril that you are come hither.
our king, who has seven heads, is now asleep, but in a few minutes he will wake up and come to me to take his bath!
woe to anyone who meets him in the garden, for it is impossible to escape from him.
this is what you must do if you wish to save your lives.
take off your clothes and spread them on the path which leads from here to the castle.
the king will then glide over something soft, which he likes very much, and he will be so pleased with that that he will not devour you.
he will give you some punishment, but then he will let you go."
the men did as the lake advised them, and waited for a time.
at noon the earth began to quake, and opened in many places, and out of the openings appeared lions, tigers, and other wild beasts, which surrounded the castle, and thousands and thousands of beasts came out of the castle following their king, the seven-headed serpent.
the serpent glided over the clothes which were spread for him, came to the lake, and asked it who had strewed those soft things on the path?
the lake answered that it had been done by people who had come to do him homage.
the king commanded that the men should be brought before him.
they came humbly on their knees, and in a few words told him their story.
then he spoke to them with a mighty and terrible voice, and said, "because you have dared to come here, i lay upon you the punishment.
every year you must bring me from among your people twelve youths and twelve maidens, that i may devour them.
if you do not do this, i will destroy your whole nation."
then he desired one of his beasts to show the men the way out of the garden, and dismissed them.
they then left the island and went back to their own country, where they related what had happened to them.
soon the time came round when the king of the beasts would expect the youths and maidens to be brought to him.
the king therefore issued a proclamation inviting twelve youths and twelve maidens to offer themselves up to save their country; and immediately many young people, far more than enough, hastened to do so.
a new ship was built, and set with black sails, and in it the youths and maidens who were appointed for the king of the beasts embarked and set out for his country.
when they arrived there they went at once to the lake, and this time the lions did not stir, nor did the springs flow, and neither did the lake speak.
so they waited then, and it was not long before the earth quaked even more terribly than the first time.
the seven-headed serpent came without his train of beasts, saw his prey waiting for him, and devoured it at one mouthful.
then the ship's crew returned home, and the same thing happened yearly until many years had passed.
now the king of this unhappy country was growing old, and so was the queen, and they had no children.
one day the queen was sitting at the window weeping bitterly because she was childless, and knew that the crown would therefore pass to strangers after the king's death.
suddenly a little old woman appeared before her, holding an apple in her hand, and said, "why do you weep, my queen, and what makes you so unhappy?"
"alas, good mother," answered the queen," i am unhappy because i have no children."
"is that what vexes you?"
said the old woman.
"listen to me.
i am a nun from the spinning convent, -lrb- 10 -rrb- and my mother when she died left me this apple.
whoever eats this apple shall have a child."
-lrb- 10 -rrb- convent gnothi.
the queen gave money to the old woman, and bought the apple from her.
then she peeled it, ate it, and threw the rind out of the window, and it so happened that a mare that was running loose in the court below ate up the rind.
after a time the queen had a little boy, and the mare also had a male foal.
the boy and the foal grew up together and loved each other like brothers.
in course of time the king died, and so did the queen, and their son, who was now nineteen years old, was left alone.
one day, when he and his horse were talking together, the horse said to him, "listen to me, for i love you and wish for your good and that of the country.
if you go on every year sending twelve youths and twelve maidens to the king of the beasts, your country will very soon be ruined.
mount upon my back: i will take you to a woman who can direct you how to kill the seven-headed serpent."
then the youth mounted his horse, who carried him far away to a mountain which was hollow, for in its side was a great underground cavern.
in the cavern sat an old woman spinning.
this was the cloister of the nuns, and the old woman was the abbess.
they all spent their time in spinning, and that is why the convent has this name.
all round the walls of the cavern there were beds cut out of the solid rock, upon which the nuns slept, and in the middle a light was burning.
it was the duty of the nuns to watch the light in turns, that it might never go out, and if anyone of them let it go out the others put her to death.
as soon as the king's son saw the old abbess spinning he threw himself at her feet and entreated her to tell him how he could kill the seven-headed serpent.
she made the youth rise, embraced him, and said, "know, my son, that it is i who sent the nun to your mother and caused you to be born, and with you the horse, with whose help you will be able to free the world from the monster.
i will tell you what you have to do.
load your horse with cotton, and go by a secret passage which i will show you, which is hidden from the wild beasts, to the serpent's palace.
you will find the king asleep upon his bed, which is all hung round with bells, and over his bed you will see a sword hanging.
with this sword only it is possible to kill the serpent, because even if its blade breaks a new one will grow again for every head the monster has.
thus you will be able to cut off all his seven heads.
and this you must also do in order to deceive the king: you must slip into his bed-chamber very softly, and stop up all the bells which are round his bed with cotton.
then take down the sword gently, and quickly give the monster a blow on his tail with it.
this will make him waken up, and if he catches sight of you he will seize you.
but you must quickly cut off his first head, and then wait till the next one comes up.
then strike it off also, and so go on till you have cut off all his seven heads."
the old abbess then gave the prince her blessing, and he set out upon his enterprise, arrived at the serpent's castle by following the secret passage which she had shown him, and by carefully attending to all her directions he happily succeeded in killing the monster.
as soon as the wild beasts heard of their king's death, they all hastened to the castle, but the youth had long since mounted his horse and was already far out of their reach.
they pursued him as fast as they could, but they found it impossible to overtake him, and he reached home in safety.
thus he freed his country from this terrible oppression.
the grateful beasts -lrb- 11 -rrb- -lrb- 11 -rrb- from the hungarian.
kletke.
there was once upon a time a man and woman who had three fine-looking sons, but they were so poor that they had hardly enough food for themselves, let alone their children.
so the sons determined to set out into the world and to try their luck.
before starting their mother gave them each a loaf of bread and her blessing, and having taken a tender farewell of her and their father the three set forth on their travels.
the youngest of the three brothers, whose name was ferko, was a beautiful youth, with a splendid figure, blue eyes, fair hair, and a complexion like milk and roses.
his two brothers were as jealous of him as they could be, for they thought that with his good looks he would be sure to be more fortunate than they would ever be.
one day all the three were sitting resting under a tree, for the sun was hot and they were tired of walking.
ferko fell fast asleep, but the other two remained awake, and the eldest said to the second brother, "what do you say to doing our brother ferko some harm?
he is so beautiful that everyone takes a fancy to him, which is more than they do to us.
if we could only get him out of the way we might succeed better.'"
i quite agree with you," answered the second brother, "and my advice is to eat up his loaf of bread, and then to refuse to give him a bit of ours until he has promised to let us put out his eyes or break his legs."
his eldest brother was delighted with this proposal, and the two wicked wretches seized ferko's loaf and ate it all up, while the poor boy was still asleep.
when he did awake he felt very hungry and turned to eat his bread, but his brothers cried out, "you ate your loaf in your sleep, you glutton, and you may starve as long as you like, but you wo n't get a scrap of ours."
ferko was at a loss to understand how he could have eaten in his sleep, but he said nothing, and fasted all that day and the next night.
but on the following morning he was so hungry that he burst into tears, and implored his brothers to give him a little bit of their bread.
then the cruel creatures laughed, and repeated what they had said the day before; but when ferko continued to beg and beseech them, the eldest said at last, "if you will let us put out one of your eyes and break one of your legs, then we will give you a bit of our bread."
at these words poor ferko wept more bitterly than before, and bore the torments of hunger till the sun was high in the heavens; then he could stand it no longer, and he consented to allow his left eye to be put out and his left leg to be broken.
when this was done he stretched out his hand eagerly for the piece of bread, but his brothers gave him such a tiny scrap that the starving youth finished it in a moment and besought them for a second bit.
but the more ferko wept and told his brothers that he was dying of hunger, the more they laughed and scolded him for his greed.
so he endured the pangs of starvation all that day, but when night came his endurance gave way, and he let his right eye be put out and his right leg broken for a second piece of bread.
after his brothers had thus successfully maimed and disfigured him for life, they left him groaning on the ground and continued their journey without him.
poor ferko ate up the scrap of bread they had left him and wept bitterly, but no one heard him or came to his help.
night came on, and the poor blind youth had no eyes to close, and could only crawl along the ground, not knowing in the least where he was going.
but when the sun was once more high in the heavens, ferko felt the blazing heat scorch him, and sought for some cool shady place to rest his aching limbs.
he climbed to the top of a hill and lay down in the grass, and as he thought under the shadow of a big tree.
but it was no tree he leant against, but a gallows on which two ravens were seated.
the one was saying to the other as the weary youth lay down, "is there anything the least wonderful or remarkable about this neighbourhood?'"
i should just think there was," replied the other; "many things that do n't exist anywhere else in the world.
there is a lake down there below us, and anyone who bathes in it, though he were at death's door, becomes sound and well on the spot, and those who wash their eyes with the dew on this hill become as sharp-sighted as the eagle, even if they have been blind from their youth."
"well," answered the first raven, "my eyes are in no want of this healing bath, for, heaven be praised, they are as good as ever they were; but my wing has been very feeble and weak ever since it was shot by an arrow many years ago, so let us fly at once to the lake that i may be restored to health and strength again."
and so they flew away.
their words rejoiced ferko's heart, and he waited impatiently till evening should come and he could rub the precious dew on his sightless eyes.
at last it began to grow dusk, and the sun sank behind the mountains; gradually it became cooler on the hill, and the grass grew wet with dew.
then ferko buried his face in the ground till his eyes were damp with dewdrops, and in a moment he saw clearer than he had ever done in his life before.
the moon was shining brightly, and lighted him to the lake where he could bathe his poor broken legs.
then ferko crawled to the edge of the lake and dipped his limbs in the water.
no sooner had he done so than his legs felt as sound and strong as they had been before, and ferko thanked the kind fate that had led him to the hill where he had overheard the ravens" conversation.
he filled a bottle with the healing water, and then continued his journey in the best of spirits.
he had not gone far before he met a wolf, who was limping disconsolately along on three legs, and who on perceiving ferko began to howl dismally.
"my good friend," said the youth, "be of good cheer, for i can soon heal your leg," and with these words he poured some of the precious water over the wolf's paw, and in a minute the animal was springing about sound and well on all fours.
the grateful creature thanked his benefactor warmly, and promised ferko to do him a good turn if he should ever need it.
ferko continued his way till he came to a ploughed field.
here he noticed a little mouse creeping wearily along on its hind paws, for its front paws had both been broken in a trap.
ferko felt so sorry for the little beast that he spoke to it in the most friendly manner, and washed its small paws with the healing water.
in a moment the mouse was sound and whole, and after thanking the kind physician it scampered away over the ploughed furrows.
ferko again proceeded on his journey, but he had n't gone far before a queen bee flew against him, trailing one wing behind her, which had been cruelly torn in two by a big bird.
ferko was no less willing to help her than he had been to help the wolf and the mouse, so he poured some healing drops over the wounded wing.
on the spot the queen bee was cured, and turning to ferko she said," i am most grateful for your kindness, and shall reward you some day."
and with these words she flew away humming, gaily.
then ferko wandered on for many a long day, and at length reached a strange kingdom.
here, he thought to himself, he might as well go straight to the palace and offer his services to the king of the country, for he had heard that the king's daughter was as beautiful as the day.
so he went to the royal palace, and as he entered the door the first people he saw were his two brothers who had so shamefully ill-treated him.
they had managed to obtain places in the king's service, and when they recognised ferko with his eyes and legs sound and well they were frightened to death, for they feared he would tell the king of their conduct, and that they would be hung.
no sooner had ferko entered the palace than all eyes were turned on the handsome youth, and the king's daughter herself was lost in admiration, for she had never seen anyone so handsome in her life before.
his brothers noticed this, and envy and jealousy were added to their fear, so much so that they determined once more to destroy him.
they went to the king and told him that ferko was a wicked magician, who had come to the palace with the intention of carrying off the princess.
then the king had ferko brought before him, and said, "you are accused of being a magician who wishes to rob me of my daughter, and i condemn you to death; but if you can fulfil three tasks which i shall set you to do your life shall be spared, on condition you leave the country; but if you can not perform what i demand you shall be hung on the nearest tree."
and turning to the two wicked brothers he said, "suggest something for him to do; no matter how difficult, he must succeed in it or die."
they did not think long, but replied, "let him build your majesty in one day a more beautiful palace than this, and if he fails in the attempt let him be hung."
the king was pleased with this proposal, and commanded ferko to set to work on the following day.
the two brothers were delighted, for they thought they had now got rid of ferko for ever.
the poor youth himself was heart-broken, and cursed the hour he had crossed the boundary of the king's domain.
as he was wandering disconsolately about the meadows round the palace, wondering how he could escape being put to death, a little bee flew past, and settling on his shoulder whispered in his ear, "what is troubling you, my kind benefactor?
can i be of any help to you?
i am the bee whose wing you healed, and would like to show my gratitude in some way."
ferko recognised the queen bee, and said, "alas!
how could you help me?
for i have been set to do a task which no one in the whole world could do, let him be ever such a genius!
to-morrow i must build a palace more beautiful than the king's, and it must be finished before evening."
"is that all?"
answered the bee, "then you may comfort yourself; for before the sun goes down to-morrow night a palace shall be built unlike any that king has dwelt in before.
just stay here till i come again and tell you that it is finished."
having said this she flew merrily away, and ferko, reassured by her words, lay down on the grass and slept peacefully till the next morning.
early on the following day the whole town was on its feet, and everyone wondered how and where the stranger would build the wonderful palace.
the princess alone was silent and sorrowful, and had cried all night till her pillow was wet, so much did she take the fate of the beautiful youth to heart.
ferko spent the whole day in the meadows waiting the return of the bee.
and when evening was come the queen bee flew by, and perching on his shoulder she said, "the wonderful palace is ready.
be of good cheer, and lead the king to the hill just outside the city walls."
and humming gaily she flew away again.
ferko went at once to the king and told him the palace was finished.
the whole court went out to see the wonder, and their astonishment was great at the sight which met their eyes.
a splendid palace reared itself on the hill just outside the walls of the city, made of the most exquisite flowers that ever grew in mortal garden.
the roof was all of crimson roses, the windows of lilies, the walls of white carnations, the floors of glowing auriculas and violets, the doors of gorgeous tulips and narcissi with sunflowers for knockers, and all round hyacinths and other sweet-smelling flowers bloomed in masses, so that the air was perfumed far and near and enchanted all who were present.
this splendid palace had been built by the grateful queen bee, who had summoned all the other bees in the kingdom to help her.
the king's amazement knew no bounds, and the princess's eyes beamed with delight as she turned them from the wonderful building on the delighted ferko.
but the two brothers had grown quite green with envy, and only declared the more that ferko was nothing but a wicked magician.
the king, although he had been surprised and astonished at the way his commands had been carried out, was very vexed that the stranger should escape with his life, and turning to the two brothers he said, "he has certainly accomplished the first task, with the aid no doubt of his diabolical magic; but what shall we give him to do now?
let us make it as difficult as possible, and if he fails he shall die."
then the eldest brother replied, "the corn has all been cut, but it has not yet been put into barns; let the knave collect all the grain in the kingdom into one big heap before to-morrow night, and if as much as a stalk of corn is left let him be put to death.
the princess grew white with terror when she heard these words; but ferko felt much more cheerful than he had done the first time, and wandered out into the meadows again, wondering how he was to get out of the difficulty.
but he could think of no way of escape.
the sun sank to rest and night came on, when a little mouse started out of the grass at ferko's feet, and said to him, "i'm delighted to see you, my kind benefactor; but why are you looking so sad?
can i be of any help to you, and thus repay your great kindness to me?"
then ferko recognised the mouse whose front paws he had healed, and replied, "alas i how can you help me in a matter that is beyond any human power!
before to-morrow night all the grain in the kingdom has to be gathered into one big heap, and if as much as a stalk of corn is wanting i must pay for it with my life."
"is that all?"
answered the mouse; "that need n't distress you much.
just trust in me, and before the sun sets again you shall hear that your task is done."
and with these words the little creature scampered away into the fields.
ferko, who never doubted that the mouse would be as good as its word, lay down comforted on the soft grass and slept soundly till next morning.
the day passed slowly, and with the evening came the little mouse and said, "now there is not a single stalk of corn left in any field; they are all collected in one big heap on the hill out there."
then ferko went joyfully to the king and told him that all he demanded had been done.
and the whole court went out to see the wonder, and were no less astonished than they had been the first time.
for in a heap higher than the king's palace lay all the grain of the country, and not a single stalk of corn had been left behind in any of the fields.
and how had all this been done?
the little mouse had summoned every other mouse in the land to its help, and together they had collected all the grain in the kingdom.
the king could not hide his amazement, but at the same time his wrath increased, and he was more ready than ever to believe the two brothers, who kept on repeating that ferko was nothing more nor less than a wicked magician.
only the beautiful princess rejoiced over ferko's success, and looked on him with friendly glances, which the youth returned.
the more the cruel king gazed on the wonder before him, the more angry he became, for he could not, in the face of his promise, put the stranger to death.
he turned once more to the two brothers and said, "his diabolical magic has helped him again, but now what third task shall we set him to do?
no matter how impossible it is, he must do it or die."
the eldest answered quickly, "let him drive all the wolves of the kingdom on to this hill before to-morrow night.
if he does this he may go free; if not he shall be hung as you have said."
at these words the princess burst into tears, and when the king saw this he ordered her to be shut up in a high tower and carefully guarded till the dangerous magician should either have left the kingdom or been hung on the nearest tree.
ferko wandered out into the fields again, and sat down on the stump of a tree wondering what he should do next.
suddenly a big wolf ran up to him, and standing still said, "i'm very glad to see you again, my kind benefactor.
what are you thinking about all alone by yourself?
if i can help you in any way only say the word, for i would like to give you a proof of my gratitude."
ferko at once recognised the wolf whose broken leg he had healed, and told him what he had to do the following day if he wished to escape with his life.
"but how in the world," he added, "am i to collect all the wolves of the kingdom on to that hill over there?"
"if that's all you want done," answered the wolf, "you need n't worry yourself.
i'll undertake the task, and you'll hear from me again before sunset to-morrow.
keep your spirits up."
and with these words he trotted quickly away.
then the youth rejoiced greatly, for now he felt that his life was safe; but he grew very sad when he thought of the beautiful princess, and that he would never see her again if he left the country.
he lay down once more on the grass and soon fell fast asleep.
all the next day he spent wandering about the fields, and toward evening the wolf came running to him in a great hurry and said," i have collected together all the wolves in the kingdom, and they are waiting for you in the wood.
go quickly to the king, and tell him to go to the hill that he may see the wonder you have done with his own eyes.
then return at once to me and get on my back, and i will help you to drive all the wolves together."
then ferko went straight to the palace and told the king that he was ready to perform the third task if he would come to the hill and see it done.
ferko himself returned to the fields, and mounting on the wolf's back he rode to the wood close by.
quick as lightning the wolf flew round the wood, and in a minute many hundred wolves rose up before him, increasing in number every moment, till they could be counted by thousands.
he drove them all before him on to the hill, where the king and his whole court and ferko's two brothers were standing.
only the lovely princess was not present, for she was shut up in her tower weeping bitterly.
the wicked brothers stamped and foamed with rage when they saw the failure of their wicked designs.
but the king was overcome by a sudden terror when he saw the enormous pack of wolves approaching nearer and nearer, and calling out to ferko he said, "enough, enough, we do n't want any more."
but the wolf on whose back ferko sat, said to its rider, "go on!
go on!"
and at the same moment many more wolves ran up the hill, howling horribly and showing their white teeth.
the king in his terror called out, "stop a moment; i will give you half my kingdom if you will drive all the wolves away."
but ferko pretended not to hear, and drove some more thousands before him, so that everyone quaked with horror and fear.
then the king raised his voice again and called out, "stop!
you shall have my whole kingdom, if you will only drive these wolves back to the places they came from."
but the wolf kept on encouraging ferko, and said, "go on!
go on!"
so he led the wolves on, till at last they fell on the king and on the wicked brothers, and ate them and the whole court up in a moment.
then ferko went straight to the palace and set the princess free, and on the same day he married her and was crowned king of the country.
and the wolves all went peacefully back to their own homes, and ferko and his bride lived for many years in peace and happiness together, and were much beloved by great and small in the land.
the giants and the herd-boy -lrb- 12 -rrb- -lrb- 12 -rrb- from the bukowniaer.
von wliolocki.
there was once upon a time a poor boy who had neither father nor mother.
in order to gain a living he looked after the sheep of a great lord.
day and night he spent out in the open fields, and only when it was very wet and stormy did he take refuge in a little hut on the edge of a big forest.
now one night, when he was sitting on the grass beside his flocks, he heard not very far from him the sound as of some one crying.
he rose up and followed the direction of the noise.
to his dismay and astonishment he found a giant lying at the entrance of the wood; he was about to run off as fast as his legs could carry him, when the giant called out: "do n't be afraid, i wo n't harm you.
on the contrary, i will reward you handsomely if you will bind up my foot.
i hurt it when i was trying to root up an oak-tree."
the herd-boy took off his shirt, and bound up the giant's wounded foot with it.
then the giant rose up and said, "now come and i will reward you.
we are going to celebrate a marriage to-day, and i promise you we shall have plenty of fun.
come and enjoy yourself, but in order that my brothers may n't see you, put this band round your waist and then you'll be invisible."
with these words he handed the herd-boy a belt, and walking on in front he led him to a fountain where hundreds of giants and giantesses were assembled preparing to hold a wedding.
they danced and played different games till midnight; then one of the giants tore up a plant by its roots, and all the giants and giantesses made themselves so thin that they disappeared into the earth through the hole made by the uprooting of the plant.
the wounded giant remained behind to the last and called out, "herd-boy, where are you?"
"here i am, close to you," was the reply.
"touch me," said the giant, "so that you too may come with us under ground."
the herd-boy did as he was told, and before he could have believed it possible he found himself in a big hall, where even the walls were made of pure gold.
then to his astonishment he saw that the hall was furnished with the tables and chairs that belonged to his master.
in a few minutes the company began to eat and drink.
the banquet was a very gorgeous one, and the poor youth fell to and ate and drank lustily.
when he had eaten and drunk as much as he could he thought to himself, "why should n't i put a loaf of bread in my pocket?
i shall be glad of it to-morrow."
so he seized a loaf when no one was looking and stowed it away under his tunic.
no sooner had he done so than the wounded giant limped up to him and whispered softly, "herd-boy, where are you?"
"here i am," replied the youth.
"then hold on to me," said the giant, "so that i may lead you up above again."
so the herd-boy held on to the giant, and in a few moments he found himself on the earth once more, but the giant had vanished.
the herd-boy returned to his sheep, and took off the invisible belt which he hid carefully in his bag.
the next morning the lad felt hungry, and thought he would cut off a piece of the loaf he had carried away from the giants" wedding feast, and eat it.
but although he tried with all his might, he could n't cut off the smallest piece.
then in despair he bit the loaf, and what was his astonishment when a piece of gold fell out of his mouth and rolled at his feet.
he bit the bread a second and third time, and each time a piece of gold fell out of his mouth; but the bread remained untouched.
the herd-boy was very much delighted over his stroke of good fortune, and, hiding the magic loaf in his bag, he hurried off to the nearest village to buy himself something to eat, and then returned to his sheep.
now the lord whose sheep the herd-boy looked after had a very lovely daughter, who always smiled and nodded to the youth when she walked with her father in his fields.
for a long time the herd-boy had made up his mind to prepare a surprise for this beautiful creature on her birthday.
so when the day approached he put on his invisible belt, took a sack of gold pieces with him, and slipping into her room in the middle of the night, he placed the bag of gold beside her bed and returned to his sheep.
the girl's joy was great, and so was her parents" next day when they found the sack full of gold pieces.
the herd-boy was so pleased to think what pleasure he had given that the next night he placed another bag of gold beside the girl's bed.
and this he continued to do for seven nights, and the girl and her parents made up their minds that it must be a good fairy who brought the gold every night.
but one night they determined to watch, and see from their hiding place who the bringer of the sack of gold really was.
on the eighth night a fearful storm of wind and rain came on while the herd-boy was on his way to bring the beautiful girl another bag of gold.
then for the first time he noticed, just as he reached his master's house, that he had forgotten the belt which made him invisible.
he did n't like the idea of going back to his hut in the wind and wet, so he just stepped as he was into the girl's room, laid the sack of gold beside her, and was turning to leave the room, when his master confronted him and said, "you young rogue, so you were going to steal the gold that a good fairy brings every night, were you?"
the herd-boy was so taken aback by his words, that he stood trembling before him, and did not dare to explain his presence.
then his master spoke.
"as you have hitherto always behaved well in my service i will not send you to prison; but leave your place instantly and never let me see your face again."
so the herd-boy went back to his hut, and taking his loaf and belt with him, he went to the nearest town.
there he bought himself some fine clothes, and a beautiful coach with four horses, hired two servants, and drove back to his master.
you may imagine how astonished he was to see his herd-boy returning to him in this manner!
then the youth told him of the piece of good luck that had befallen him, and asked him for the hand of his beautiful daughter.
this was readily granted, and the two lived in peace and happiness to the end of their lives.
the invisible prince once upon a time there lived a fairy who had power over the earth, the sea, fire, and the air; and this fairy had four sons.
the eldest, who was quick and lively, with a vivid imagination, she made lord of fire, which was in her opinion the noblest of all the elements.
to the second son, whose wisdom and prudence made amends for his being rather dull, she gave the government of the earth.
the third was wild and savage, and of monstrous stature; and the fairy, his mother, who was ashamed of his defects, hoped to hide them by creating him king of the seas.
the youngest, who was the slave of his passions and of a very uncertain temper, became prince of the air.
being the youngest, he was naturally his mother's favourite; but this did not blind her to his weaknesses, and she foresaw that some day he would suffer much pain through falling in love.
so she thought the best thing she could do was to bring him up with a horror of women; and, to her great delight, she saw this dislike only increased as he grew older.
from his earliest childhood he heard nothing but stories of princes who had fallen into all sorts of troubles through love; and she drew such terrible pictures of poor little cupid that the young man had no difficulty in believing that he was the root of all evil.
all the time that this wise mother could spare from filling her son with hatred for all womenkind she passed in giving him a love of the pleasures of the chase, which henceforth became his chief joy.
for his amusement she had made a new forest, planted with the most splendid trees, and turned loose in it every animal that could be found in any of the four quarters of the globe.
in the midst of this forest she built a palace which had not its equal for beauty in the whole world, and then she considered that she had done enough to make any prince happy.
now it is all very well to abuse the god of love, but a man can not struggle against his fate.
in his secret heart the prince got tired of his mother's constant talk on this subject; and when one day she quitted the palace to attend to some business, begging him never to go beyond the grounds, he at once jumped at the chance of disobeying her.
left to himself the prince soon forgot the wise counsels of his mother, and feeling very much bored with his own company, he ordered some of the spirits of the air to carry him to the court of a neighbouring sovereign.
this kingdom was situated in the island of roses, where the climate is so delicious that the grass is always green and the flowers always sweet.
the waves, instead of beating on the rocks, seemed to die gently on the shore; clusters of golden bushes covered the land, and the vines were bent low with grapes.
the king of this island had a daughter named rosalie, who was more lovely than any girl in the whole world.
no sooner had the eyes of the prince of the air rested on her than he forgot all the terrible woes which had been prophesied to him ever since he was born, for in one single moment the plans of years are often upset.
he instantly began to think how best to make himself happy, and the shortest way that occurred to him was to have rosalie carried off by his attendant spirits.
it is easy to imagine the feelings of the king when he found that his daughter had vanished.
he wept her loss night and day, and his only comfort was to talk over it with a young and unknown prince, who had just arrived at the court.
alas!
he did not know what a deep interest the stranger had in rosalie, for he too had seen her, and had fallen a victim to her charms.
one day the king, more sorrowful than usual, was walking sadly along the sea-shore, when after a long silence the unknown prince, who was his only companion, suddenly spoke.
"there is no evil without a remedy," he said to the unhappy father; "and if you will promise me your daughter in marriage, i will undertake to bring her back to you."
"you are trying to soothe me by vain promises," answered the king.
"did i not see her caught up into the air, in spite of cries which would have softened the heart of any one but the barbarian who has robbed me of her?
the unfortunate girl is pining away in some unknown land, where perhaps no foot of man has ever trod, and i shall see her no more.
but go, generous stranger; bring back rosalie if you can, and live happy with her ever after in this country, of which i now declare you heir."
although the stranger's name and rank were unknown to rosalie's father, he was really the son of the king of the golden isle, which had for capital a city that extended from one sea to another.
the walls, washed by the quiet waters, were covered with gold, which made one think of the yellow sands.
above them was a rampart of orange and lemon trees, and all the streets were paved with gold.
the king of this beautiful island had one son, for whom a life of adventure had been foretold at his birth.
this so frightened his father and mother that in order to comfort them a fairy, who happened to be present at the time, produced a little pebble which she told them to keep for the prince till he grew up, as by putting it in his mouth he would become invisible, as long as he did not try to speak, for if he did the stone would lose all its virtue.
in this way the good fairy hoped that the prince would be protected against all dangers.
no sooner did the prince begin to grow out of boyhood than he longed to see if the other countries of the world were as splendid as the one in which he lived.
so, under pretence of visiting some small islands that belonged to his father, he set out.
but a frightful storm drove his ship on to unknown shores, where most of his followers were put to death by the savages, and the prince himself only managed to escape by making use of his magic pebble.
by this means he passed through the midst of them unseen, and wandered on till he reached the coast, where he re-embarked on board his ship.
the first land he sighted was the island of roses, and he went at once to the court of the king, rosalie's father.
the moment his eyes beheld the princess, he fell in love with her like everyone else.
he had already spent several months in this condition when the prince of the air whirled her away, to the grief and despair of every man on the island.
but sad though everybody was, the prince of the golden isle was perfectly inconsolable, and he passed both days and nights in bemoaning his loss.
"alas!"
he cried; "shall i never see my lovely princess again?"
who knows where she may be, and what fairy may have her in his keeping?
i am only a man, but i am strong in my love, and i will seek the whole world through till i find her."
so saying, he left the court, and made ready for his journey.
he travelled many weary days without hearing a single word of the lost princess, till one morning, as he was walking through a thick forest, he suddenly perceived a magnificent palace standing at the end of a pine avenue, and his heart bounded to think that he might be gazing on rosalie's prison.
he hastened his steps, and quickly arrived at the gate of the palace, which was formed of a single agate.
the gate swung open to let him through, and he next passed successively three courts, surrounded by deep ditches filled with running water, with birds of brilliant plumage flying about the banks.
everything around was rare and beautiful, but the prince scarcely raised his eyes to all these wonders.
he thought only of the princess and where he should find her, but in vain he opened every door and searched in every corner; he neither saw rosalie nor anyone else.
at last there was no place left for him to search but a little wood, which contained in the centre a sort of hall built entirely of orange-trees, with four small rooms opening out of the corners.
three of these were empty except for statues and wonderful things, but in the fourth the invisible prince caught sight of rosalie.
his joy at beholding her again was, however, somewhat lessened by seeing that the prince of the air was kneeling at her feet, and pleading his own cause.
but it was in vain that he implored her to listen; she only shook her head.
"no," was all she would say; "you snatched me from my father whom i loved, and all the splendour in the world can never console me.
go!
i can never feel anything towards you but hate and contempt."
with these words she turned away and entered her own apartments.
unknown to herself the invisible prince had followed her, but fearing to be discovered by the princess in the presence of others, he made up his mind to wait quietly till dark; and employed the long hours in writing a poem to the princess, which he laid on the bed beside her.
this done, he thought of nothing but how best to deliver rosalie, and he resolved to take advantage of a visit which the prince of the air paid every year to his mother and brothers in order to strike the blow.
one day rosalie was sitting alone in her room thinking of her troubles when she suddenly saw a pen get up from off the desk and begin to write all by itself on a sheet of white paper.
as she did not know that it was guided by an invisible hand she was very much astonished, and the moment that the pen had ceased to move she instantly went over to the table, where she found some lovely verses, telling her that another shared her distresses, whatever they might be, and loved her with all his heart; and that he would never rest until he had delivered her from the hands of the man she hated.
thus encouraged, she told him all her story, and of the arrival of a young stranger in her father's palace, whose looks had so charmed her that since that day she had thought of no one else.
at these words the prince could contain himself no longer.
he took the pebble from his mouth, and flung himself at rosalie's feet.
when they had got over the first rapture of meeting they began to make plans to escape from the power of the prince of the air.
but this did not prove easy, for the magic stone would only serve for one person at a time, and in order to save rosalie the prince of the golden isle would have to expose himself to the fury of his enemy.
but rosalie would not hear of this.
"no, prince," she said; "since you are here this island no longer feels a prison.
besides, you are under the protection of a fairy, who always visits your father's court at this season.
go instantly and seek her, and when she is found implore the gift of another stone with similar powers.
once you have that, there will be no further difficulty in the way of escape."
the prince of the air returned a few days later from his mother's palace, but the invisible prince had already set out.
he had, however, entirely forgotten the road by which he had come, and lost himself for so long in the forest, that when at last he reached home the fairy had already left, and, in spite of all his grief, there was nothing for it but to wait till the fairy's next visit, and allow rosalie to suffer three months longer.
this thought drove him to despair, and he had almost made up his mind to return to the place of her captivity, when one day, as he was strolling along an alley in the woods, he saw a huge oak open its trunk, and out of it step two princes in earnest conversation.
as our hero had the magic stone in his mouth they imagined themselves alone, and did not lower their voices.
"what!"
said one, "are you always going to allow yourself to be tormented by a passion which can never end happily, and in your whole kingdom can you find nothing else to satisfy you?"
"what is the use," replied the other, "of being prince of the gnomes, and having a mother who is queen over all the four elements, if i can not win the love of the princess argentine?
from the moment that i first saw her, sitting in the forest surrounded by flowers, i have never ceased to think of her night and day, and, although i love her, i am quite convinced that she will never care for me.
you know that i have in my palace the cabinets of the years.
in the first, great mirrors reflect the past; in the second, we contemplate the present; in the third, the future can be read.
it was here that i fled after i had gazed on the princess argentine, but instead of love i only saw scorn and contempt.
think how great must be my devotion, when, in spite of my fate, i still love on!"
now the prince of the golden isle was enchanted with this conversation, for the princess argentine was his sister, and he hoped, by means of her influence over the prince of the gnomes, to obtain from his brother the release of rosalie.
so he joyfully returned to his father's palace, where he found his friend the fairy, who at once presented him with a magic pebble like his own.
as may be imagined, he lost no time in setting out to deliver rosalie, and travelled so fast that he soon arrived at the forest, in the midst of which she lay a captive.
but though he found the palace he did not find rosalie.
he hunted high and low, but there was no sign of her, and his despair was so great that he was ready, a thousand times over, to take his own life.
at last he remembered the conversation of the two princes about the cabinets of the years, and that if he could manage to reach the oak tree, he would be certain to discover what had become of rosalie.
happily, he soon found out the secret of the passage and entered the cabinet of the present, where he saw reflected in the mirrors the unfortunate rosalie sitting on the floor weeping bitterly, and surrounded with genii, who never left her night or day.
this sight only increased the misery of the prince, for he did not know where the castle was, nor how to set about finding it.
however, he resolved to seek the whole world through till he came to the right place.
he began by setting sail in a favourable wind, but his bad luck followed him even on the sea.
he had scarcely lost sight of the land when a violent storm arose, and after several hours of beating about, the vessel was driven on to some rocks, on which it dashed itself to bits.
the prince was fortunate enough to be able to lay hold of a floating spar, and contrived to keep himself afloat; and, after a long struggle with the winds and waves, he was cast upon a strange island.
but what was his surprise, on reaching the shore, to hear sounds of the most heartrending distress, mingled with the sweetest songs which had ever charmed him!
his curiosity was instantly roused, and he advanced cautiously till he saw two huge dragons guarding the gate of a wood.
they were terrible indeed to look upon.
their bodies were covered with glittering scales; their curly tails extended far over the land; flames darted from their mouths and noses, and their eyes would have made the bravest shudder; but as the prince was invisible and they did not see him, he slipped past them into the wood.
he found himself at once in a labyrinth, and wandered about for a long time without meeting anyone; in fact, the only sight he saw was a circle of human hands, sticking out of the ground above the wrist, each with a bracelet of gold, on which a name was written.
the farther he advanced in the labyrinth the more curious he became, till he was stopped by two corpses lying in the midst of a cypress alley, each with a scarlet cord round his neck and a bracelet on his arm on which were engraved their own names, and those of two princesses.
the invisible prince recognised these dead men as kings of two large islands near his own home, but the names of the princesses were unknown to him.
he grieved for their unhappy fate, and at once proceeded to bury them; but no sooner had he laid them in their graves, than their hands started up through the earth and remained sticking up like those of their fellows.
the prince went on his way, thinking about this strange adventure, when suddenly at the turn of the walk he perceived a tall man whose face was the picture of misery, holding in his hands a silken cord of the exact colour of those round the necks of the dead men.
a few steps further this man came up with another as miserable to the full as he himself; they silently embraced, and then without a word passed the cords round their throats, and fell dead side by side.
in vain the prince rushed to their assistance and strove to undo the cord.
he could not loosen it; so he buried them like the others and continued his path.
he felt, however, that great prudence was necessary, or he himself might become the victim of some enchantment; and he was thankful to slip past the dragons, and enter a beautiful park, with clear streams and sweet flowers, and a crowd of men and maidens.
but he could not forget the terrible things he had seen, and hoped eagerly for a clue to the mystery.
noticing two young people talking together, he drew near thinking that he might get some explanation of what puzzled him.
and so he did.
"you swear," said the prince, "that you will love me till you die, but i fear your faithless heart, and i feel that i shall soon have to seek the fairy despair, ruler of half this island.
she carries off the lovers who have been cast away by their mistresses, and wish to have done with life.
she places them in a labyrinth where they are condemned to walk for ever, with a bracelet on their arms and a cord round their necks, unless they meet another as miserable as themselves.
then the cord is pulled and they lie where they fall, till they are buried by the first passer by.
terrible as this death would be," added the prince, "it would be sweeter than life if i had lost your love."
the sight of all these happy lovers only made the prince grieve the more, and he wandered along the seashore spending his days; but one day he was sitting on a rock bewailing his fate, and the impossibility of leaving the island, when all in a moment the sea appeared to raise itself nearly to the skies, and the caves echoed with hideous screams.
as he looked a woman rose from the depths of the sea, flying madly before a furious giant.
the cries she uttered softened the heart of the prince; he took the stone from his mouth, and drawing his sword he rushed after the giant, so as to give the lady time to escape.
but hardly had he come within reach of the enemy, than the giant touched him with a ring that he held in his hand, and the prince remained immovable where he stood.
the giant then hastily rejoined his prey, and, seizing her in his arms, he plunged her into the sea.
then he sent some tritons to bind chains about the prince of the golden isle, and he too felt himself borne to the depths of the ocean, and without the hope of ever again seeing the princess.
now the giant whom the invisible had so rashly attacked was the lord of the sea, and the third son of the queen of the elements, and he had touched the youth with a magic ring which enabled a mortal to live under water.
so the prince of the golden isle found, when bound in chains by the tritons, he was carried through the homes of strange monsters and past immense seaweed forests, till he reached a vast sandy space, surrounded by huge rocks.
on the tallest of the rocks sat the giant as on a throne.
"rash mortal," said he, when the prince was dragged before him, "you have deserved death, but you shall live only to suffer more cruelly.
go, and add to the number of those whom it is my pleasure to torture."
at these words the unhappy prince found himself tied to a rock; but he was not alone in his misfortunes, for all round him were chained princes and princesses, whom the giant had led captive.
indeed, it was his chief delight to create a storm, in order to add to the list of his prisoners.
as his hands were fastened, it was impossible for the prince of the golden isle to make use of his magic stone, and he passed his nights and days dreaming of rosalie.
but at last the time came when the giant took it into his head to amuse himself by arranging fights between some of his captives.
lots were drawn, and one fell upon our prince, whose chains were immediately loosened.
the moment he was set free, he snatched up his stone, and became invisible.
the astonishment of the giant at the sudden disappearance of the prince may well be imagined.
he ordered all the passages to be watched, but it was too late, for the prince had already glided between two rocks.
he wandered for a long while through the forests, where he met nothing but fearful monsters; he climbed rock after rock, steered his way from tree to tree, till at length he arrived at the edge of the sea, at the foot of a mountain that he remembered to have seen in the cabinet of the present, where rosalie was held captive.
filled with joy, he made his way to the top of the mountain which pierced the clouds, and there he found a palace.
he entered, and in the middle of a long gallery he discovered a crystal room, in the midst of which sat rosalie, guarded night and day by genii.
there was no door anywhere, nor any window.
at this sight the prince became more puzzled than ever, for he did not know how he was to warn rosalie of his return.
yet it broke his heart to see her weeping from dawn till dark.
one day, as rosalie was walking up and down her room, she was surprised to see that the crystal which served for a wall had grown cloudy, as if some one had breathed on it, and, what was more, wherever she moved the brightness of the crystal always became clouded.
this was enough to cause the princess to suspect that her lover had returned.
in order to set the prince of the air's mind at rest she began by being very gracious to him, so that when she begged that her captivity might be a little lightened she should not be refused.
at first the only favour she asked was to be allowed to walk for one hour every day up and down the long gallery.
this was granted, and the invisible prince speedily took the opportunity of handing her the stone, which she at once slipped into her mouth.
no words can paint the fury of her captor at her disappearance.
he ordered the spirits of the air to fly through all space, and to bring back rosalie wherever she might be.
they instantly flew off to obey his commands, and spread themselves over the whole earth.
meantime rosalie and the invisible prince had reached, hand in hand, a door of the gallery which led through a terrace into the gardens.
in silence they glided along, and thought themselves already safe, when a furious monster dashed itself by accident against rosalie and the invisible prince, and in her fright she let go his hand.
no one can speak as long as he is invisible, and besides, they knew that the spirits were all around them, and at the slightest sound they would be recognised; so all they could do was to feel about in the hope that their hands might once more meet.
but, alas!
the joy of liberty lasted but a short time.
the princess, having wandered in vain up and down the forest, stopped at last on the edge of a fountain.
as she walked she wrote on the trees: "if ever the prince, my lover, comes this way, let him know that it is here i dwell, and that i sit daily on the edge of this fountain, mingling my tears with its waters."
these words were read by one of the genii, who repeated them to his master.
the prince of the air, in his turn making himself invisible, was led to the fountain, and waited for rosalie.
when she drew near he held out his hand, which she grasped eagerly, taking it for that of her lover; and, seizing his opportunity, the prince passed a cord round her arms, and throwing off his invisibility cried to his spirits to drag her into the lowest pit.
it was at this moment that the invisible prince appeared, and at the sight of the prince of the genii mounting into the air, holding a silken cord, he guessed instantly that he was carrying off rosalie.
he felt so overwhelmed by despair that he thought for an instant of putting an end to his life.
"can i survive my misfortunes?"
he cried."
i fancied i had come to an end of my troubles, and now they are worse than ever.
what will become of me?
never can i discover the place where this monster will hide rosalie."
the unhappy youth had determined to let himself die, and indeed his sorrow alone was enough to kill him, when the thought that by means of the cabinets of the years he might find out where the princess was imprisoned, gave him a little ray of comfort.
so he continued to walk on through the forest, and after some hours he arrived at the gate of a temple, guarded by two huge lions.
being invisible, he was able to enter unharmed.
in the middle of the temple was an altar, on which lay a book, and behind the altar hung a great curtain.
the prince approached the altar and opened the book, which contained the names of all the lovers in the world: and in it he read that rosalie had been carried off by the prince of the air to an abyss which had no entrance except the one that lay by way of the fountain of gold.
now, as the prince had not the smallest idea where this fountain was to be found, it might be thought that he was not much nearer rosalie than before.
this was not, however, the view taken by the prince.
"though every step that i take may perhaps lead me further from her," he said to himself," i am still thankful to know that she is alive somewhere."
on leaving the temple the invisible prince saw six paths lying before him, each of which led through the wood.
he was hesitating which to choose, when he suddenly beheld two people coming towards him, down the track which lay most to his right.
they turned out to be the prince gnome and his friend, and the sudden desire to get some news of his sister, princess argentine, caused the invisible prince to follow them and to listen to their conversation.
"do you think," the prince gnome was saying, "do you think that i would not break my chains if i could?
i know that the princess argentine will never love me, yet each day i feel her dearer still.
and as if this were not enough, i have the horror of feeling that she probably loves another.
so i have resolved to put myself out of my pain by means of the golden fountain.
a single drop of its water falling on the sand around will trace the name of my rival in her heart.
i dread the test, and yet this very dread convinces me of my misfortune."
it may be imagined that after listening to these words the invisible prince followed prince gnome like his shadow, and after walking some time they arrived at the golden fountain.
the unhappy lover stooped down with a sigh, and dipping his finger in the water let fall a drop on the sand.
it instantly wrote the name of prince flame, his brother.
the shock of this discovery was so real, that prince gnome sank fainting into the arms of his friend.
meanwhile the invisible prince was turning over in his mind how he could best deliver rosalie.
as, since he had been touched by the giant's ring, he had the power to live in the water as well as on land, he at once dived into the fountain.
he perceived in one corner a door leading into the mountain, and at the foot of the mountain was a high rock on which was fixed an iron ring with a cord attached.
the prince promptly guessed that the cord was used to chain the princess, and drew his sword and cut it.
in a moment he felt the princess's hand in his, for she had always kept her magic pebble in her mouth, in spite of the prayers and entreaties of the prince of the air to make herself visible.
so hand in hand the invisible prince and rosalie crossed the mountain; but as the princess had no power of living under water, she could not pass the golden fountain.
speechless and invisible they clung together on the brink, trembling at the frightful tempest the prince of the air had raised in his fury.
the storm had already lasted many days when tremendous heat began to make itself felt.
the lightning flashed, the thunder rattled, fire bolts fell from heaven, burning up the forests and even the fields of corn.
in one instant the very streams were dried up, and the prince, seizing his opportunity, carried the princess over the golden fountain.
it took them a long time still to reach the golden isle, but at last they got there, and we may be quite sure they never wanted to leave it any more.
the crow -lrb- 13 -rrb- -lrb- 13 -rrb- from the polish.
kletke.
once upon a time there were three princesses who were all three young and beautiful; but the youngest, although she was not fairer than the other two, was the most loveable of them all.
about half a mile from the palace in which they lived there stood a castle, which was uninhabited and almost a ruin, but the garden which surrounded it was a mass of blooming flowers, and in this garden the youngest princess used often to walk.
one day when she was pacing to and fro under the lime trees, a black crow hopped out of a rose-bush in front of her.
the poor beast was all torn and bleeding, and the kind little princess was quite unhappy about it.
when the crow saw this it turned to her and said: "i am not really a black crow, but an enchanted prince, who has been doomed to spend his youth in misery.
if you only liked, princess, you could save me.
but you would have to say good-bye to all your own people and come and be my constant companion in this ruined castle.
there is one habitable room in it, in which there is a golden bed; there you will have to live all by yourself, and do n't forget that whatever you may see or hear in the night you must not scream out, for if you give as much as a single cry my sufferings will be doubled."
the good-natured princess at once left her home and her family and hurried to the ruined castle, and took possession of the room with the golden bed.
when night approached she lay down, but though she shut her eyes tight sleep would not come.
at midnight she heard to her great horror some one coming along the passage, and in a minute her door was flung wide open and a troop of strange beings entered the room.
they at once proceeded to light a fire in the huge fireplace; then they placed a great cauldron of boiling water on it.
when they had done this, they approached the bed on which the trembling girl lay, and, screaming and yelling all the time, they dragged her towards the cauldron.
she nearly died with fright, but she never uttered a sound.
then of a sudden the cock crew, and all the evil spirits vanished.
at the same moment the crow appeared and hopped all round the room with joy.
it thanked the princess most heartily for her goodness, and said that its sufferings had already been greatly lessened.
now one of the princess's elder sisters, who was very inquisitive, had found out about everything, and went to pay her youngest sister a visit in the ruined castle.
she implored her so urgently to let her spend the night with her in the golden bed, that at last the good-natured little princess consented.
but at midnight, when the odd folk appeared, the elder sister screamed with terror, and from this time on the youngest princess insisted always on keeping watch alone.
so she lived in solitude all the daytime, and at night she would have been frightened, had she not been so brave; but every day the crow came and thanked her for her endurance, and assured her that his sufferings were far less than they had been.
and so two years passed away, when one day the crow came to the princess and said: "in another year i shall be freed from the spell i am under at present, because then the seven years will be over.
but before i can resume my natural form, and take possession of the belongings of my forefathers, you must go out into the world and take service as a maidservant."
the young princess consented at once, and for a whole year she served as a maid; but in spite of her youth and beauty she was very badly treated, and suffered many things.
one evening, when she was spinning flax, and had worked her little white hands weary, she heard a rustling beside her and a cry of joy.
then she saw a handsome youth standing beside her; who knelt down at her feet and kissed the little weary white hands."
i am the prince," he said, "who you in your goodness, when i was wandering about in the shape of a black crow, freed from the most awful torments.
come now to my castle with me, and let us live there happily together."
so they went to the castle where they had both endured so much.
but when they reached it, it was difficult to believe that it was the same, for it had all been rebuilt and done up again.
and there they lived for a hundred years, a hundred years of joy and happiness.
how six men travelled through the wide world there was once upon a time a man who understood all sorts of arts; he served in the war, and bore himself bravely and well; but when the war was over, he got his discharge, and set out on his travels with three farthings of his pay in his pocket.
"wait," he said; "that does not please me; only let me find the right people, and the king shall yet give me all the treasures of his kingdom."
he strode angrily into the forest, and there he saw a man standing who had uprooted six trees as if they were straws.
he said to him, "will you be my servant and travel with me?"
"yes," he answered; "but first of all i will take this little bundle of sticks home to my mother," and he took one of the trees and wound it round the other five, raised the bundle on his shoulders and bore it off.
then he came back and went with his master, who said, "we two ought to be able to travel through the wide world!"
and when they had gone a little way they came upon a hunter, who was on his knees, his gun on his shoulder, aiming at something.
the master said to him, "hunter, what are you aiming at?"
he answered, "two miles from this place sits a fly on a branch of an oak; i want to shoot out its left eye."
"oh, go with me," said the man; "if we three are together we shall easily travel through the wide world."
the hunter agreed and went with him, and they came to seven windmills whose sails were going round quite fast, and yet there was not a breath of wind, nor was a leaf moving.
the man said," i do n't know what is turning those windmills; there is not the slightest breeze blowing."
so he walked on with his servants, and when they had gone two miles they saw a man sitting on a tree, holding one of his nostrils and blowing out of the other.
"fellow, what are you puffing at up there?"
asked the man.
he replied, "two miles from this place are standing seven windmills; see, i am blowing to drive them round."
"oh, go with me," said the man; "if we four are together we shall easily travel through the wide world."
so the blower got down and went with him, and after a time they saw a man who was standing on one leg, and had unstrapped the other and laid it near him.
then said the master, "you have made yourself very comfortable to rest!'"
i am a runner," answered he; "and so that i shall not go too quickly, i have unstrapped one leg; when i run with two legs, i go faster than a bird flies."
"oh, go with me; if we five are together, we shall easily travel through the wide world."
so he went with him, and, not long afterwards, they met a man who wore a little hat, but he had it slouched over one ear.
"manners, manners!"
said the master to him; "do n't hang your hat over one ear; you look like a madman!'"
i dare not," said the other, "for if i were to put my hat on straight, there would come such a frost that the very birds in the sky would freeze and fall dead on the earth."
"oh, go with me," said the master; "if we six are together, we shall easily travel through the wide world.
now the six came to a town in which the king had proclaimed that whoever should run with his daughter in a race, and win, should become her husband; but if he lost, he must lose his head.
this was reported to the man who declared he would compete, "but," he said," i shall let my servant run for me."
the king replied, "then both your heads must be staked, and your head and his must be guaranteed for the winner."
when this was agreed upon and settled, the man strapped on the runner's other leg, saying to him, "now be nimble, and see that we win!"
it was arranged that whoever should first bring water out of a stream a long way off, should be the victor.
then the runner got a pitcher, and the king's daughter another, and they began to run at the same time; but in a moment, when the king's daughter was only just a little way off, no spectator could see the runner, and it seemed as if the wind had whistled past.
in a short time he reached the stream, filled his pitcher with water, and turned round again.
but, half way home, a great drowsiness came over him; he put down his pitcher, lay down, and fell asleep.
he had, however, put a horse's skull which was lying on the ground, for his pillow, so that he should not be too comfortable and might soon wake up.
in the meantime the king's daughter, who could also run well, as well as an ordinary man could, reached the stream, and hastened back with her pitcher full of water.
when she saw the runner lying there asleep, she was delighted, and said, "my enemy is given into my hands!"
she emptied his pitcher and ran on.
everything now would have been lost, if by good luck the hunter had not been standing on the castle tower and had seen everything with his sharp eyes.
"ah," said he, "the king's daughter shall not overreach us;" and, loading his gun, he shot so cleverly, that he shot away the horse's skull from under the runner's head, without its hurting him.
then the runner awoke, jumped up, and saw that his pitcher was empty and the king's daughter far ahead.
but he did not lose courage, and ran back to the stream with his pitcher, filled it once more with water, and was home ten minutes before the king's daughter arrived.
"look," said he," i have only just exercised my legs; that was nothing of a run."
but the king was angry, and his daughter even more so, that she should be carried away by a common, discharged soldier.
they consulted together how they could destroy both him and his companions.
"then," said the king to her," i have found a way.
do n't be frightened; they shall not come home again."
he said to them, "you must now make merry together, and eat and drink," and he led them into a room which had a floor of iron; the doors were also of iron, and the windows were barred with iron.
in the room was a table spread with delicious food.
the king said to them, "go in and enjoy yourselves," and as soon as they were inside he had the doors shut and bolted.
then he made the cook come, and ordered him to keep up a large fire under the room until the iron was red-hot.
the cook did so, and the six sitting round the table felt it grow very warm, and they thought this was because of their good fare; but when the heat became still greater and they wanted to go out, but found the doors and windows fastened, then they knew that the king meant them harm and was trying to suffocate them.
"but he shall not succeed," cried he of the little hat," i will make a frost come which shall make the fire ashamed and die out!"
so he put his hat on straight, and at once there came such a frost that all the heat disappeared and the food on the dishes began to freeze.
when a couple of hours had passed, and the king thought they must be quite dead from the heat, he had the doors opened and went in himself to see.
but when the doors were opened, there stood all six, alive and well, saying they were glad they could come out to warm themselves, for the great cold in the room had frozen all the food hard in the dishes.
then the king went angrily to the cook, and scolded him, and asked him why he had not done what he was told.
but the cook answered, "there is heat enough there; see for yourself."
then the king saw a huge fire burning under the iron room, and understood that he could do no harm to the six in this way.
the king now began again to think how he could free himself from his unwelcome guests.
he commanded the master to come before him, and said, "if you will take gold, and give up your right to my daughter, you shall have as much as you like."
"oh, yes, your majesty," answered he, "give me as much as my servant can carry, and i will give up your daughter."
the king was delighted, and the man said," i will come and fetch it in fourteen days."
then he called all the tailors in the kingdom together, and made them sit down for fourteen days sewing at a sack.
when it was finished, he made the strong man who had uprooted the trees take the sack on his shoulder and go with him to the king.
then the king said, "what a powerful fellow that is, carrying that bale of linen as large as a house on his shoulder!"
and he was much frightened, and thought "what a lot of gold he will make away with!"
then he had a ton of gold brought, which sixteen of the strongest men had to carry; but the strong man seized it with one hand, put it in the sack, saying, "why do n't you bring me more?
that scarcely covers the bottom!"
then the king had to send again and again to fetch his treasures, which the strong man shoved into the sack, and the sack was only half full.
"bring more," he cried, "these crumbs do n't fill it."
so seven thousand waggons of the gold of the whole kingdom were driven up; these the strong man shoved into the sack, oxen and all."
i will no longer be particular," he said, "and will take what comes, so that the sack shall be full."
when everything was put in and there was not yet enough, he said," i will make an end of this; it is easy to fasten a sack when it is not full."
then he threw it on his back and went with his companions.
now, when the king saw how a single man was carrying away the wealth of the whole country he was very angry, and made his cavalry mount and pursue the six, and bring back the strong man with the sack.
two regiments soon overtook them, and called to them, "you are prisoners!
lay down the sack of gold or you shall be cut down."
"what do you say?"
said the blower, "we are prisoners?
before that, you shall dance in the air!"
and he held one nostril and blew with the other at the two regiments; they were separated and blown away in the blue sky over the mountains, one this way, and the other that.
a sergeant-major cried for mercy, saying he had nine wounds, and was a brave fellow, and did not deserve this disgrace.
so the blower let him off, and he came down without hurt.
then he said to him, "now go home to the king, and say that if he sends any more cavalry i will blow them all into the air."
when the king received the message, he said, "let the fellows go; they are bewitched."
then the six brought the treasure home, shared it among themselves, and lived contentedly till the end of their days.
the wizard king -lrb- 14 -rrb- -lrb- 14 -rrb- from les fees illustres.
in very ancient times there lived a king, whose power lay not only in the vast extent of his dominions, but also in the magic secrets of which he was master.
after spending the greater part of his early youth in pleasure, he met a princess of such remarkable beauty that he at once asked her hand in marriage, and, having obtained it, considered himself the happiest of men.
after a year's time a son was born, worthy in every way of such distinguished parents, and much admired by the whole court.
as soon as the queen thought him strong enough for a journey she set out with him secretly to visit her fairy godmother.
i said secretly, because the fairy had warned the queen that the king was a magician; and as from time immemorial there had been a standing feud between the fairies and the wizards, he might not have approved of his wife's visit.
the fairy godmother, who took the deepest interest in all the queen's concerns, and who was much pleased with the little prince, endowed him with the power of pleasing everybody from his cradle, as well as with a wonderful ease in learning everything which could help to make him a perfectly accomplished prince.
accordingly, to the delight of his teachers, he made the most rapid progress in his education, constantly surpassing everyone's expectations.
before he was many years old, however, he had the great sorrow of losing his mother, whose last words were to advise him never to undertake anything of importance without consulting the fairy under whose protection she had placed him.
the prince's grief at the death of his mother was great, but it was nothing compared to that of the king, his father, who was quite inconsolable for the loss of his dear wife.
neither time nor reason seemed to lighten his sorrow, and the sight of all the familiar faces and things about him only served to remind him of his loss.
he therefore resolved to travel for change, and by means of his magic art was able to visit every country he came to see under different shapes, returning every few weeks to the place where he had left a few followers.
having travelled from land to land in this fashion without finding anything to rivet his attention, it occurred to him to take the form of an eagle, and in this shape he flew across many countries and arrived at length in a new and lovely spot, where the air seemed filled with the scent of jessamine and orange flowers with which the ground was thickly planted.
attracted by the sweet perfume he flew lower, and perceived some large and beautiful gardens filled with the rarest flowers, and with fountains throwing up their clear waters into the air in a hundred different shapes.
a wide stream flowed through the garden, and on it floated richly ornamented barges and gondolas filled with people dressed in the most elegant manner and covered with jewels.
in one of these barges sat the queen of that country with her only daughter, a maiden more beautiful than the day star, and attended by the ladies of the court.
no more exquisitely lovely mortal was ever seen than this princess, and it needed all an eagle's strength of sight to prevent the king being hopelessly dazzled.
he perched on the top of a large orange tree, whence he was able to survey the scene and to gaze at pleasure on the princess's charms.
now, an eagle with a king's heart in his breast is apt to be bold, and accordingly he instantly made up his mind to carry off the lovely damsel, feeling sure that having once seen her he could not live without her.
he waited till he saw her in the act of stepping ashore, when, suddenly swooping down, he carried her off before her equerry in attendance had advanced to offer her his hand.
the princess, on finding herself in an eagle's talons, uttered the most heart-breaking shrieks and cries; but her captor, though touched by her distress, would not abandon his lovely prey, and continued to fly through the air too fast to allow of his saying anything to comfort her.
at length, when he thought they had reached a safe distance, he began to lower his flight, and gradually descending to earth, deposited his burden in a flowery meadow.
he then entreated her pardon for his violence, and told her that he was about to carry her to a great kingdom over which he ruled, and where he desired she should rule with him, adding many tender and consoling expressions.
for some time the princess remained speechless; but recovering herself a little, she burst into a flood of tears.
the king, much moved, said, "adorable princess, dry your tears.
i implore you.
my only wish is to make you the happiest person in the world."
"if you speak truth, my lord," replied the princess, "restore to me the liberty you have deprived me of.
otherwise i can only look on you as my worst enemy."
the king retorted that her opposition filled him with despair, but that he hoped to carry her to a place where all around would respect her, and where every pleasure would surround her.
so saying, he seized her once more, and in spite of all her cries he rapidly bore her off to the neighbourhood of his capital.
here he gently placed her on a lawn, and as he did so she saw a magnificent palace spring up at her feet.
the architecture was imposing, and in the interior the rooms were handsome and furnished in the best possible taste.
the princess, who expected to be quite alone, was pleased at finding herself surrounded by a number of pretty girls, all anxious to wait on her, whilst a brilliantly-coloured parrot said the most agreeable things in the world.
on arriving at this palace the king had resumed his own form, and though no longer young, he might well have pleased any other than this princess, who had been so prejudiced against him by his violence that she could only regard him with feelings of hatred, which she was at no pains to conceal.
the king hoped, however, that time might not only soften her anger, but accustom her to his sight.
he took the precaution of surrounding the palace with a dense cloud, and then hastened to his court, where his prolonged absence was causing much anxiety.
the prince and all the courtiers were delighted to see their beloved king again, but they had to submit themselves to more frequent absences than ever on his part.
he made business a pretext for shutting himself up in his study, but it was really in order to spend the time with the princess, who remained inflexible.
not being able to imagine what could be the cause of so much obstinacy the king began to fear, lest, in spite of all his precautions, she might have heard of the charms of the prince his son, whose goodness, youth and beauty, made him adored at court.
this idea made him horribly uneasy, and he resolved to remove the cause of his fears by sending the prince on his travels escorted by a magnificent retinue.
the prince, after visiting several courts, arrived at the one where the lost princess was still deeply mourned.
the king and queen received him most graciously, and some festivities were revived to do him honour.
one day when the prince was visiting the queen in her own apartments he was much struck by a most beautiful portrait.
he eagerly inquired whose it was, and the queen, with many tears, told him it was all that was left her of her beloved daughter, who had suddenly been carried off, she knew neither where nor how.
the prince was deeply moved, and vowed that he would search the world for the princess, and take no rest till he had found and restored her to her mother's arms.
the queen assured him of her eternal gratitude, and promised, should he succeed, to give him her daughter in marriage, together with all the estates she herself owned.
the prince, far more attracted by the thoughts of possessing the princess than her promised dower, set forth in his quest after taking leave of the king and queen, the latter giving him a miniature of her daughter which she was in the habit of wearing.
his first act was to seek the fairy under whose protection he had been placed, and he implored her to give him all the assistance of her art and counsel in this important matter.
after listening attentively to the whole adventure, the fairy asked for time to consult her books.
after due consideration she informed the prince that the object of his search was not far distant, but that it was too difficult for him to attempt to enter the enchanted palace where she was, as the king his father had surrounded it with a thick cloud, and that the only expedient she could think of would be to gain possession of the princess's parrot.
this, she added, did not appear impossible, as it often flew about to some distance in the neighbourhood.
having told the prince all this, the fairy went out in hopes of seeing the parrot, and soon returned with the bird in her hand.
she promptly shut it up in a cage, and, touching the prince with her wand, transformed him into an exactly similar parrot; after which, she instructed him how to reach the princess.
the prince reached the palace in safety, but was so dazzled at first by the princess's beauty, which far surpassed his expectations, that he was quite dumb for a time.
the princess was surprised and anxious, and fearing the parrot, who was her greatest comfort, had fallen ill, she took him in her hand and caressed him.
this soon reassured the prince, and encouraged him to play his part well, and he began to say a thousand agreeable things which charmed the princess.
presently the king appeared, and the parrot noticed with joy how much he was disliked.
as soon as the king left, the princess retired to her dressing-room, the parrot flew after her and overheard her lamentations at the continued persecutions of the king, who had pressed her to consent to their marriage.
the parrot said so many clever and tender things to comfort her that she began to doubt whether this could indeed be her own parrot.
when he saw her well-disposed towards him, he exclaimed: "madam, i have a most important secret to confide to you, and i beg you not to be alarmed by what i am about to say.
i am here on behalf of the queen your mother, with the object of delivering your highness; to prove which, behold this portrait which she gave me herself."
so saying he drew forth the miniature from under his wing.
the princess's surprise was great, but after what she had seen and heard it was impossible not to indulge in hope, for she had recognised the likeness of herself which her mother always wore.
the parrot, finding she was not much alarmed, told her who he was, all that her mother had promised him and the help he had already received from a fairy who had assured him that she would give him means to transport the princess to her mother's arms.
when he found her listening attentively to him, he implored the princess to allow him to resume his natural shape.
she did not speak, so he drew a feather from his wing, and she beheld before her a prince of such surpassing beauty that it was impossible not to hope that she might owe her liberty to so charming a person.
meantime the fairy had prepared a chariot, to which she harnessed two powerful eagles; then placing the cage, with the parrot in it, she charged the bird to conduct it to the window of the princess's dressing-room.
this was done in a few minutes, and the princess, stepping into the chariot with the prince, was delighted to find her parrot again.
as they rose through the air the princess remarked a figure mounted on an eagle's back flying in front of the chariot.
she was rather alarmed, but the prince reassured her, telling her it was the good fairy to whom she owed so much, and who was now conducting her in safety to her mother.
that same morning the king woke suddenly from a troubled sleep.
he had dreamt that the princess was being carried off from him, and, transforming himself into an eagle, he flew to the palace.
when he failed to find her he flew into a terrible rage, and hastened home to consult his books, by which means he discovered that it was his son who had deprived him of this precious treasure.
immediately he took the shape of a harpy, and, filled with rage, was determined to devour his son, and even the princess too, if only he could overtake them.
he set out at full speed; but he started too late, and was further delayed by a strong wind which the fairy raised behind the young couple so as to baffle any pursuit.
you may imagine the rapture with which the queen received the daughter she had given up for lost, as well as the amiable prince who had rescued her.
the fairy entered with them, and warned the queen that the wizard king would shortly arrive, infuriated by his loss, and that nothing could preserve the prince and princess from his rage and magic unless they were actually married.
the queen hastened to inform the king her husband, and the wedding took place on the spot.
as the ceremony was completed the wizard king arrived.
his despair at being so late bewildered him so entirely that he appeared in his natural form and attempted to sprinkle some black liquid over the bride and bridegroom, which was intended to kill them, but the fairy stretched out her wand and the liquid dropped on the magician himself.
he fell down senseless, and the princess's father, deeply offended at the cruel revenge which had been attempted, ordered him to be removed and locked up in prison.
now as magicians lose all their power as soon as they are in prison, the king felt himself much embarrassed at being thus at the mercy of those he had so greatly offended.
the prince implored and obtained his father's pardon, and the prison doors were opened.
no sooner was this done than the wizard king was seen in the air under the form of some unknown bird, exclaiming as he flew off that he would never forgive either his son or the fairy the cruel wrong they had done him.
everyone entreated the fairy to settle in the kingdom where she now was, to which she consented.
she built herself a magnificent palace, to which she transported her books and fairy secrets, and where she enjoyed the sight of the perfect happiness she had helped to bestow on the entire royal family.
the nixy -lrb- 15 -rrb- -lrb- 15 -rrb- from the german.
kletke.
there was once upon a time a miller who was very well off, and had as much money and as many goods as he knew what to do with.
but sorrow comes in the night, and the miller all of a sudden became so poor that at last he could hardly call the mill in which he sat his own.
he wandered about all day full of despair and misery, and when he lay down at night he could get no rest, but lay awake all night sunk in sorrowful thoughts.
one morning he rose up before dawn and went outside, for he thought his heart would be lighter in the open air.
as he wandered up and down on the banks of the mill-pond he heard a rustling in the water, and when he looked near he saw a white woman rising up from the waves.
he realised at once that this could be none other than the nixy of the mill-pond, and in his terror he did n't know if he should fly away or remain where he was.
while he hesitated the nixy spoke, called him by his name, and asked him why he was so sad.
when the miller heard how friendly her tone was, he plucked up heart and told her how rich and prosperous he had been all his life up till now, when he did n't know what he was to do for want and misery.
then the nixy spoke comforting words to him, and promised that she would make him richer and more prosperous than he had ever been in his life before, if he would give her in return the youngest thing in his house.
the miller thought she must mean one of his puppies or kittens, so promised the nixy at once what she asked, and returned to his mill full of hope.
on the threshold he was greeted by a servant with the news that his wife had just given birth to a boy.
the poor miller was much horrified by these tidings, and went in to his wife with a heavy heart to tell her and his relations of the fatal bargain he had just struck with the nixy."
i would gladly give up all the good fortune she promised me," he said, "if i could only save my child."
but no one could think of any advice to give him, beyond taking care that the child never went near the mill-pond.
so the boy throve and grew big, and in the meantime all prospered with the miller, and in a few years he was richer than he had ever been before.
but all the same he did not enjoy his good fortune, for he could not forget his compact with the nixy, and he knew that sooner or later she would demand his fulfilment of it.
but year after year went by, and the boy grew up and became a great hunter, and the lord of the land took him into his service, for he was as smart and bold a hunter as you would wish to see.
in a short time he married a pretty young wife, and lived with her in great peace and happiness.
one day when he was out hunting a hare sprang up at his feet, and ran for some way in front of him in the open field.
the hunter pursued it hotly for some time, and at last shot it dead.
then he proceeded to skin it, never noticing that he was close to the mill-pond, which from childhood up he had been taught to avoid.
he soon finished the skinning, and went to the water to wash the blood off his hands.
he had hardly dipped them in the pond when the nixy rose up in the water, and seizing him in her wet arms she dragged him down with her under the waves.
when the hunter did not come home in the evening his wife grew very anxious, and when his game bag was found close to the mill-pond she guessed at once what had befallen him.
she was nearly beside herself with grief, and roamed round and round the pond calling on her husband without ceasing.
at last, worn out with sorrow and fatigue, she fell asleep and dreamt that she was wandering along a flowery meadow, when she came to a hut where she found an old witch, who promised to restore her husband to her.
when she awoke next morning she determined to set out and find the witch; so she wandered on for many a day, and at last she reached the flowery meadow and found the hut where the old witch lived.
the poor wife told her all that had happened and how she had been told in a dream of the witch's power to help her.
the witch counselled her to go to the pond the first time there was a full moon, and to comb her black hair with a golden comb, and then to place the comb on the bank.
the hunter's wife gave the witch a handsome present, thanked her heartily, and returned home.
time dragged heavily till the time of the full moon, but it passed at last, and as soon as it rose the young wife went to the pond, combed her black hair with a golden comb, and when she had finished, placed the comb on the bank; then she watched the water impatiently.
soon she heard a rushing sound, and a big wave rose suddenly and swept the comb off the bank, and a minute after the head of her husband rose from the pond and gazed sadly at her.
but immediately another wave came, and the head sank back into the water without having said a word.
the pond lay still and motionless, glittering in the moonshine, and the hunter's wife was not a bit better off than she had been before.
in despair she wandered about for days and nights, and at last, worn out by fatigue, she sank once more into a deep sleep, and dreamt exactly the same dream about the old witch.
so next morning she went again to the flowery meadow and sought the witch in her hut, and told her of her grief.
the old woman counselled her to go to the mill-pond the next full moon and play upon a golden flute, and then to lay the flute on the bank.
as soon as the next moon was full the hunter's wife went to the mill-pond, played on a golden flute, and when she had finished placed it on the bank.
then a rushing sound was heard, and a wave swept the flute off the bank, and soon the head of the hunter appeared and rose up higher and higher till he was half out of the water.
then he gazed sadly at his wife and stretched out his arms towards her.
but another rushing wave arose and dragged him under once more.
the hunter's wife, who had stood on the bank full of joy and hope, sank into despair when she saw her husband snatched away again before her eyes.
but for her comfort she dreamt the same dream a third time, and betook herself once more to the old witch's hut in the flowery meadow.
this time the old woman told her to go the next full moon to the mill-pond, and to spin there with a golden spinning-wheel, and then to leave the spinning-wheel on the bank.
the hunter's wife did as she was advised, and the first night the moon was full she sat and spun with a golden spinning-wheel, and then left the wheel on the bank.
in a few minutes a rushing sound was heard in the waters, and a wave swept the spinning-wheel from the bank.
immediately the head of the hunter rose up from the pond, getting higher and higher each moment, till at length he stepped on to the bank and fell on his wife's neck.
but the waters of the pond rose up suddenly, overflowed the bank where the couple stood, and dragged them under the flood.
in her despair the young wife called on the old witch to help her, and in a moment the hunter was turned into a frog and his wife into a toad.
but they were not able to remain together, for the water tore them apart, and when the flood was over they both resumed their own shapes again, but the hunter and the hunter's wife found themselves each in a strange country, and neither knew what had become of the other.
the hunter determined to become a shepherd, and his wife too became a shepherdess.
so they herded their sheep for many years in solitude and sadness.
now it happened once that the shepherd came to the country where the shepherdess lived.
the neighbourhood pleased him, and he saw that the pasture was rich and suitable for his flocks.
so he brought his sheep there, and herded them as before.
the shepherd and shepherdess became great friends, but they did not recognise each other in the least.
but one evening when the moon was full they sat together watching their flocks, and the shepherd played upon his flute.
then the shepherdess thought of that evening when she had sat at the full moon by the mill-pond and had played on the golden flute; the recollection was too much for her, and she burst into tears.
the shepherd asked her why she was crying, and left her no peace till she told him all her story.
then the scales fell from the shepherd's eyes, and he recognised his wife, and she him.
so they returned joyfully to their own home, and lived in peace and happiness ever after.
the glass mountain -lrb- 16 -rrb- -lrb- 16 -rrb- from the polish.
kletke.
once upon a time there was a glass mountain at the top of which stood a castle made of pure gold, and in front of the castle there grew an apple-tree on which there were golden apples.
anyone who picked an apple gained admittance into the golden castle, and there in a silver room sat an enchanted princess of surpassing fairness and beauty.
she was as rich too as she was beautiful, for the cellars of the castle were full of precious stones, and great chests of the finest gold stood round the walls of all the rooms.
many knights had come from afar to try their luck, but it was in vain they attempted to climb the mountain.
in spite of having their horses shod with sharp nails, no one managed to get more than half-way up, and then they all fell back right down to the bottom of the steep slippery hill.
sometimes they broke an arm, sometimes a leg, and many a brave man had broken his neck even.
the beautiful princess sat at her window and watched the bold knights trying to reach her on their splendid horses.
the sight of her always gave men fresh courage, and they flocked from the four quarters of the globe to attempt the work of rescuing her.
but all in vain, and for seven years the princess had sat now and waited for some one to scale the glass mountain.
a heap of corpses both of riders and horses lay round the mountain, and many dying men lay groaning there unable to go any farther with their wounded limbs.
the whole neighbourhood had the appearance of a vast churchyard.
in three more days the seven years would be at an end, when a knight in golden armour and mounted on a spirited steed was seen making his way towards the fatal hill.
sticking his spurs into his horse he made a rush at the mountain, and got up half-way, then he calmly turned his horse's head and came down again without a slip or stumble.
the following day he started in the same way; the horse trod on the glass as if it had been level earth, and sparks of fire flew from its hoofs.
all the other knights gazed in astonishment, for he had almost gained the summit, and in another moment he would have reached the apple-tree; but of a sudden a huge eagle rose up and spread its mighty wings, hitting as it did so the knight's horse in the eye.
the beast shied, opened its wide nostrils and tossed its mane, then rearing high up in the air, its hind feet slipped and it fell with its rider down the steep mountain side.
nothing was left of either of them except their bones, which rattled in the battered golden armour like dry peas in a pod.
and now there was only one more day before the close of the seven years.
then there arrived on the scene a mere schoolboy -- a merry, happy-hearted youth, but at the same time strong and well-grown.
he saw how many knights had broken their necks in vain, but undaunted he approached the steep mountain on foot and began the ascent.
for long he had heard his parents speak of the beautiful princess who sat in the golden castle at the top of the glass mountain.
he listened to all he heard, and determined that he too would try his luck.
but first he went to the forest and caught a lynx, and cutting off the creature's sharp claws, he fastened them on to his own hands and feet.
armed with these weapons he boldly started up the glass mountain.
the sun was nearly going down, and the youth had not got more than half-way up.
he could hardly draw breath he was so worn out, and his mouth was parched by thirst.
a huge black cloud passed over his head, but in vain did he beg and beseech her to let a drop of water fall on him.
he opened his mouth, but the black cloud sailed past and not as much as a drop of dew moistened his dry lips.
his feet were torn and bleeding, and he could only hold on now with his hands.
evening closed in, and he strained his eyes to see if he could behold the top of the mountain.
then he gazed beneath him, and what a sight met his eyes!
a yawning abyss, with certain and terrible death at the bottom, reeking with half-decayed bodies of horses and riders!
and this had been the end of all the other brave men who like himself had attempted the ascent.
it was almost pitch dark now, and only the stars lit up the glass mountain.
the poor boy still clung on as if glued to the glass by his blood-stained hands.
he made no struggle to get higher, for all his strength had left him, and seeing no hope he calmly awaited death.
then all of a sudden he fell into a deep sleep, and forgetful of his dangerous position, he slumbered sweetly.
but all the same, although he slept, he had stuck his sharp claws so firmly into the glass that he was quite safe not to fall.
now the golden apple-tree was guarded by the eagle which had overthrown the golden knight and his horse.
every night it flew round the glass mountain keeping a careful look-out, and no sooner had the moon emerged from the clouds than the bird rose up from the apple-tree, and circling round in the air, caught sight of the sleeping youth.
greedy for carrion, and sure that this must be a fresh corpse, the bird swooped down upon the boy.
but he was awake now, and perceiving the eagle, he determined by its help to save himself.
the eagle dug its sharp claws into the tender flesh of the youth, but he bore the pain without a sound, and seized the bird's two feet with his hands.
the creature in terror lifted him high up into the air and began to circle round the tower of the castle.
the youth held on bravely.
he saw the glittering palace, which by the pale rays of the moon looked like a dim lamp; and he saw the high windows, and round one of them a balcony in which the beautiful princess sat lost in sad thoughts.
then the boy saw that he was close to the apple-tree, and drawing a small knife from his belt, he cut off both the eagle's feet.
the bird rose up in the air in its agony and vanished into the clouds, and the youth fell on to the broad branches of the apple-tree.
then he drew out the claws of the eagle's feet that had remained in his flesh, and put the peel of one of the golden apples on the wound, and in one moment it was healed and well again.
he pulled several of the beautiful apples and put them in his pocket; then he entered the castle.
the door was guarded by a great dragon, but as soon as he threw an apple at it, the beast vanished.
at the same moment a gate opened, and the youth perceived a courtyard full of flowers and beautiful trees, and on a balcony sat the lovely enchanted princess with her retinue.
as soon as she saw the youth, she ran towards him and greeted him as her husband and master.
she gave him all her treasures, and the youth became a rich and mighty ruler.
but he never returned to the earth, for only the mighty eagle, who had been the guardian of the princess and of the castle, could have carried on his wings the enormous treasure down to the world.
but as the eagle had lost its feet it died, and its body was found in a wood on the glass mountain.
....
.
one day when the youth was strolling about in the palace garden with the princess, his wife, he looked down over the edge of the glass mountain and saw to his astonishment a great number of people gathered there.
he blew his silver whistle, and the swallow who acted as messenger in the golden castle flew past.
"fly down and ask what the matter is," he said to the little bird, who sped off like lightning and soon returned saying: "the blood of the eagle has restored all the people below to life.
all those who have perished on this mountain are awakening up to-day, as it were from a sleep, and are mounting their horses, and the whole population are gazing on this unheard-of wonder with joy and amazement."
alphege, or the green monkey many years ago there lived a king, who was twice married.
his first wife, a good and beautiful woman, died at the birth of her little son, and the king her husband was so overwhelmed with grief at her loss that his only comfort was in the sight of his heir.
when the time for the young prince's christening came the king chose as godmother a neighbouring princess, so celebrated for her wisdom and goodness that she was commonly called "the good queen."
she named the baby alphege, and from that moment took him to her heart.
time wipes away the greatest griefs, and after two or three years the king married again.
his second wife was a princess of undeniable beauty, but by no means of so amiable a disposition as the first queen.
in due time a second prince was born, and the queen was devoured with rage at the thought that prince alphege came between her son and the throne.
she took care however to conceal her jealous feelings from the king.
at length she could control herself no longer, so she sent a trusty servant to her old and faithful friend the fairy of the mountain, to beg her to devise some means by which she might get rid of her stepson.
the fairy replied that, much as she desired to be agreeable to the queen in every way, it was impossible for her to attempt anything against the young prince, who was under the protection of some greater power than her own.
the "good queen" on her side watched carefully over her godson.
she was obliged to do so from a distance, her own country being a remote one, but she was well informed of all that went on and knew all about the queen's wicked designs.
she therefore sent the prince a large and splendid ruby, with injunctions to wear it night and day as it would protect him from all attacks, but added that the talisman only retained its power as long as the prince remained within his father's dominions.
the wicked queen knowing this made every attempt to get the prince out of the country, but her efforts failed, till one day accident did what she was unable to accomplish.
the king had an only sister who was deeply attached to him, and who was married to the sovereign of a distant country.
she had always kept up a close correspondence with her brother, and the accounts she heard of prince alphege made her long to become acquainted with so charming a nephew.
she entreated the king to allow the prince to visit her, and after some hesitation which was overruled by his wife, he finally consented.
prince alphege was at this time fourteen years old, and the handsomest and most engaging youth imaginable.
in his infancy he had been placed in the charge of one of the great ladies of the court, who, according to the prevailing custom, acted first as his head nurse and then as his governess.
when he outgrew her care her husband was appointed as his tutor and governor, so that he had never been separated from this excellent couple, who loved him as tenderly as they did their only daughter zayda, and were warmly loved by him in return.
when the prince set forth on his travels it was but natural that this devoted couple should accompany him, and accordingly he started with them and attended by a numerous retinue.
for some time he travelled through his father's dominions and all went well; but soon after passing the frontier they had to cross a desert plain under a burning sun.
they were glad to take shelter under a group of trees near, and here the prince complained of burning thirst.
luckily a tiny stream ran close by and some water was soon procured, but no sooner had he tasted it than he sprang from his carriage and disappeared in a moment.
in vain did his anxious followers seek for him, he was nowhere to be found.
as they were hunting and shouting through the trees a black monkey suddenly appeared on a point of rock and said: "poor sorrowing people, you are seeking your prince in vain.
return to your own country and know that he will not be restored to you till you have for some time failed to recognise him."
with these words he vanished, leaving the courtiers sadly perplexed; but as all their efforts to find the prince were useless they had no choice but to go home, bringing with them the sad news, which so greatly distressed the king that he fell ill and died not long after.
the queen, whose ambition was boundless, was delighted to see the crown on her son's head and to have the power in her own hands.
her hard rule made her very unpopular, and it was commonly believed that she had made away with prince alphege.
indeed, had the king her son not been deservedly beloved a revolution would certainly have arisen.
meantime the former governess of the unfortunate alphege, who had lost her husband soon after the king's death, retired to her own house with her daughter, who grew up a lovely and most loveable girl, and both continued to mourn the loss of their dear prince.
the young king was devoted to hunting, and often indulged in his favourite pastime, attended by the noblest youths in his kingdom.
one day, after a long morning's chase he stopped to rest near a brook in the shade of a little wood, where a splendid tent had been prepared for him.
whilst at luncheon he suddenly spied a little monkey of the brightest green sitting on a tree and gazing so tenderly at him that he felt quite moved.
he forbade his courtiers to frighten it, and the monkey, noticing how much attention was being paid him, sprang from bough to bough, and at length gradually approached the king, who offered him some food.
the monkey took it very daintily and finally came to the table.
the king took him on his knees, and, delighted with his capture, brought him home with him.
he would trust no one else with its care, and the whole court soon talked of nothing but the pretty green monkey.
one morning, as prince alphege's governess and her daughter were alone together, the little monkey sprang in through an open window.
he had escaped from the palace, and his manners were so gentle and caressing that zayda and her mother soon got over the first fright he had given them.
he had spent some time with them and quite won their hearts by his insinuating ways, when the king discovered where he was and sent to fetch him back.
but the monkey made such piteous cries, and seemed so unhappy when anyone attempted to catch him, that the two ladies begged the king to leave him a little longer with them, to which he consented.
one evening, as they sat by the fountain in the garden, the little monkey kept gazing at zayda with such sad and loving eyes that she and her mother could not think what to make of it, and they were still more surprised when they saw big tears rolling down his cheeks.
next day both mother and daughter were sitting in a jessamine bower in the garden, and they began to talk of the green monkey and his strange ways.
the mother said, "my dear child, i can no longer hide my feelings from you.
i can not get the thought out of my mind that the green monkey is no other than our beloved prince alphege, transformed in this strange fashion.
i know the idea sounds wild, but i can not get it out of my heart, and it leaves me no peace."
as she spoke she glanced up, and there sat the little monkey, whose tears and gestures seemed to confirm her words.
the following night the elder lady dreamt that she saw the good queen, who said, "do not weep any longer but follow my directions.
go into your garden and lift up the little marble slab at the foot of the great myrtle tree.
you will find beneath it a crystal vase filled with a bright green liquid.
take it with you and place the thing which is at present most in your thoughts into a bath filled with roses and rub it well with the green liquid."
at these words the sleeper awoke, and lost no time in rising and hurrying to the garden, where she found all as the good queen had described.
then she hastened to rouse her daughter and together they prepared the bath, for they would not let their women know what they were about.
zayda gathered quantities of roses, and when all was ready they put the monkey into a large jasper bath, where the mother rubbed him all over with the green liquid.
their suspense was not long, for suddenly the monkey skin dropped off, and there stood prince alphege, the handsomest and most charming of men.
the joy of such a meeting was beyond words.
after a time the ladies begged the prince to relate his adventures, and he told them of all his sufferings in the desert when he was first transformed.
his only comfort had been in visits from the good queen, who had at length put him in the way of meeting his brother.
several days were spent in these interesting conversations, but at length zayda's mother began to think of the best means for placing the prince on the throne, which was his by right.
the queen on her side was feeling very anxious.
she had felt sure from the first that her son's pet monkey was no other than prince alphege, and she longed to put an end to him.
her suspicions were confirmed by the fairy of the mountain, and she hastened in tears to the king, her son."
i am informed," she cried, "that some ill-disposed people have raised up an impostor in the hopes of dethroning you.
you must at once have him put to death."
the king, who was very brave, assured the queen that he would soon punish the conspirators.
he made careful inquiries into the matter, and thought it hardly probable that a quiet widow and a young girl would think of attempting anything of the nature of a revolution.
he determined to go and see them, and to find out the truth for himself; so one night, without saying anything to the queen or his ministers, he set out for the palace where the two ladies lived, attended only by a small band of followers.
the two ladies were at the moment deep in conversation with prince alphege, and hearing a knocking so late at night begged him to keep out of sight for a time.
what was their surprise when the door was opened to see the king and his suite."
i know," said the king, "that you are plotting against my crown and person, and i have come to have an explanation with you."
as she was about to answer prince alphege, who had heard all, came forward and said, "it is from me you must ask an explanation, brother."
he spoke with such grace and dignity that everyone gazed at him with mute surprise.
at length the king, recovering from his astonishment at recognising the brother who had been lost some years before, exclaimed, "yes, you are indeed my brother, and now that i have found you, take the throne to which i have no longer a right."
so saying, he respectfully kissed the prince's hand.
alphege threw himself into his arms, and the brothers hastened to the royal palace, where in the presence of the entire court he received the crown from his brother's hand.
to clear away any possible doubt, he showed the ruby which the good queen had given him in his childhood.
as they were gazing at it, it suddenly split with a loud noise, and at the same moment the wicked queen expired.
king alphege lost no time in marrying his dear and lovely zayda, and his joy was complete when the good queen appeared at his wedding.
she assured him that the fairy of the mountain had henceforth lost all power over him, and after spending some time with the young couple, and bestowing the most costly presents on them, she retired to her own country.
king alphege insisted on his brother sharing his throne, and they all lived to a good old age, universally beloved and admired.
fairer-than-a-fairy once there lived a king who had no children for many years after his marriage.
at length heaven granted him a daughter of such remarkable beauty that he could think of no name so appropriate for her as "fairer-than-a-fairy."
it never occurred to the good-natured monarch that such a name was certain to call down the hatred and jealousy of the fairies in a body on the child, but this was what happened.
no sooner had they heard of this presumptuous name than they resolved to gain possession of her who bore it, and either to torment her cruelly, or at least to conceal her from the eyes of all men.
the eldest of their tribe was entrusted to carry out their revenge.
this fairy was named lagree; she was so old that she only had one eye and one tooth left, and even these poor remains she had to keep all night in a strengthening liquid.
she was also so spiteful that she gladly devoted all her time to carrying out all the mean or ill-natured tricks of the whole body of fairies.
with her large experience, added to her native spite, she found but little difficulty in carrying off fairer-than-a-fairy.
the poor child, who was only seven years old, nearly died of fear on finding herself in the power of this hideous creature.
however, when after an hour's journey underground she found herself in a splendid palace with lovely gardens, she felt a little reassured, and was further cheered when she discovered that her pet cat and dog had followed her.
the old fairy led her to a pretty room which she said should be hers, at the same time giving her the strictest orders never to let out the fire which was burning brightly in the grate.
she then gave two glass bottles into the princess's charge, desiring her to take the greatest care of them, and having enforced her orders with the most awful threats in case of disobedience, she vanished, leaving the little girl at liberty to explore the palace and grounds and a good deal relieved at having only two apparently easy tasks set her.
several years passed, during which time the princess grew accustomed to her lonely life, obeyed the fairy's orders, and by degrees forgot all about the court of the king her father.
one day, whilst passing near a fountain in the garden, she noticed that the sun's rays fell on the water in such a manner as to produce a brilliant rainbow.
she stood still to admire it, when, to her great surprise, she heard a voice addressing her which seemed to come from the centre of its rays.
the voice was that of a young man, and its sweetness of tone and the agreeable things it uttered, led one to infer that its owner must be equally charming; but this had to be a mere matter of fancy, for no one was visible.
the beautiful rainbow informed fairer-than-a-fairy that he was young, the son of a powerful king, and that the fairy, lagree, who owed his parents a grudge, had revenged herself by depriving him of his natural shape for some years; that she had imprisoned him in the palace, where he had found his confinement hard to bear for some time, but now, he owned, he no longer sighed for freedom since he had seen and learned to love fairer-than-a-fairy.
he added many other tender speeches to this declaration, and the princess, to whom such remarks were a new experience, could not help feeling pleased and touched by his attentions.
the prince could only appear or speak under the form of a rainbow, and it was therefore necessary that the sun should shine on water so as to enable the rays to form themselves.
fairer-than-a-fairy lost no moment in which she could meet her lover, and they enjoyed many long and interesting interviews.
one day, however, their conversation became so absorbing and time passed so quickly that the princess forgot to attend to the fire, and it went out.
lagree, on her return, soon found out the neglect, and seemed only too pleased to have the opportunity of showing her spite to her lovely prisoner.
she ordered fairer-than-a-fairy to start next day at dawn to ask locrinos for fire with which to relight the one she had allowed to go out.
now this locrinos was a cruel monster who devoured everyone he came across, and especially enjoyed a chance of catching and eating any young girls.
our heroine obeyed with great sweetness, and without having been able to take leave of her lover she set off to go to locrinos as to certain death.
as she was crossing a wood a bird sang to her to pick up a shining pebble which she would find in a fountain close by, and to use it when needed.
she took the bird's advice, and in due time arrived at the house of locrinos.
luckily she only found his wife at home, who was much struck by the princess's youth and beauty and sweet gentle manners, and still further impressed by the present of the shining pebble.
she readily let fairer-than-a-fairy have the fire, and in return for the stone she gave her another, which, she said, might prove useful some day.
then she sent her away without doing her any harm.
lagree was as much surprised as displeased at the happy result of this expedition, and fairer-than-a fairy waited anxiously for an opportunity of meeting prince rainbow and telling him her adventures.
she found, however, that he had already been told all about them by a fairy who protected him, and to whom he was related.
the dread of fresh dangers to his beloved princess made him devise some more convenient way of meeting than by the garden fountain, and fairer-than-a-fairy carried out his plan daily with entire success.
every morning she placed a large basin full of water on her window-sill, and as soon as the sun's rays fell on the water the rainbow appeared as clearly as it had ever done in the fountain.
by this means they were able to meet without losing sight of the fire or of the two bottles in which the old fairy kept her eye and her tooth at night, and for some time the lovers enjoyed every hour of sunshine together.
one day prince rainbow appeared in the depths of woe.
he had just heard that he was to be banished from this lovely spot, but he had no idea where he was to go.
the poor young couple were in despair, and only parted with the last ray of sunshine, and in hopes of meeting next morning.
alas!
next day was dark and gloomy, and it was only late in the afternoon that the sun broke through the clouds for a few minutes.
fairer-than-a-fairy eagerly ran to the window, but in her haste she upset the basin, and spilt all the water with which she had carefully filled it overnight.
no other water was at hand except that in the two bottles.
it was the only chance of seeing her lover before they were separated, and she did not hesitate to break the bottle and pour their contents into the basin, when the rainbow appeared at once.
their farewells were full of tenderness; the prince made the most ardent and sincere protestations, and promised to neglect nothing which might help to deliver his dear fairer-than-a-fairy from her captivity, and implored her to consent to their marriage as soon as they should both be free.
the princess, on her side, vowed to have no other husband, and declared herself willing to brave death itself in order to rejoin him.
they were not allowed much time for their adieus; the rainbow vanished, and the princess, resolved to run all risks, started off at once, taking nothing with her but her dog, her cat, a sprig of myrtle, and the stone which the wife of locrinos gave her.
when lagree became aware of her prisoner's flight she was furious, and set off at full speed in pursuit.
she overtook her just as the poor girl, overcome by fatigue, had lain down to rest in a cave which the stone had formed itself into to shelter her.
the little dog who was watching her mistress promptly flew at lagree and bit her so severely that she stumbled against a corner of the cave and broke off her only tooth.
before she had recovered from the pain and rage this caused her, the princess had time to escape, and was some way on her road.
fear gave her strength for some time, but at last she could go no further, and sank down to rest.
as she did so, the sprig of myrtle she carried touched the ground, and immediately a green and shady bower sprang up round her, in which she hoped to sleep in peace.
but lagree had not given up her pursuit, and arrived just as fairer-than-a-fairy had fallen fast asleep.
this time she made sure of catching her victim, but the cat spied her out, and, springing from one of the boughs of the arbour she flew at lagree's face and tore out her only eye, thus delivering the princess for ever from her persecutor.
one might have thought that all would now be well, but no sooner had lagree been put to fight than our heroine was overwhelmed with hunger and thirst.
she felt as though she should certainly expire, and it was with some difficulty that she dragged herself as far as a pretty little green and white house, which stood at no great distance.
here she was received by a beautiful lady dressed in green and white to match the house, which apparently belonged to her, and of which she seemed the only inhabitant.
she greeted the fainting princess most kindly, gave her an excellent supper, and after a long night's rest in a delightful bed told her that after many troubles she should finally attain her desire.
as the green and white lady took leave of the princess she gave her a nut, desiring her only to open it in the most urgent need.
after a long and tiring journey fairer-than-a-fairy was once more received in a house, and by a lady exactly like the one she had quitted.
here again she received a present with the same injunctions, but instead of a nut this lady gave her a golden pomegranate.
the mournful princess had to continue her weary way, and after many troubles and hardships she again found rest and shelter in a third house exactly similar to the two others.
these houses belonged to three sisters, all endowed with fairy gifts, and all so alike in mind and person that they wished their houses and garments to be equally alike.
their occupation consisted in helping those in misfortune, and they were as gentle and benevolent as lagree had been cruel and spiteful.
the third fairy comforted the poor traveller, begged her not to lose heart, and assured her that her troubles should be rewarded.
she accompanied her advice by the gift of a crystal smelling-bottle, with strict orders only to open it in case of urgent need.
fairer-than-a-fairy thanked her warmly, and resumed her way cheered by pleasant thoughts.
after a time her road led through a wood, full of soft airs and sweet odours, and before she had gone a hundred yards she saw a wonderful silver castle suspended by strong silver chains to four of the largest trees.
it was so perfectly hung that a gentle breeze rocked it sufficiently to send you pleasantly to sleep.
fairer-than-a-fairy felt a strong desire to enter this castle, but besides being hung a little above the ground there seemed to be neither doors nor windows.
she had no doubt -lrb- though really i can not think why -rrb- that the moment had come in which to use the nut which had been given her.
she opened it, and out came a diminutive hall porter at whose belt hung a tiny chain, at the end of which was a golden key half as long as the smallest pin you ever saw.
the princess climbed up one of the silver chains, holding in her hand the little porter who, in spite of his minute size, opened a secret door with his golden key and let her in.
she entered a magnificent room which appeared to occupy the entire castle, and which was lighted by gold and jewelled stars in the ceiling.
in the midst of this room stood a couch, draped with curtains of all the colours of the rainbow, and suspended by golden cords so that it swayed with the castle in a manner which rocked its occupant delightfully to sleep.
on this elegant couch lay prince rainbow, looking more beautiful than ever, and sunk in profound slumber, in which he had been held ever since his disappearance.
fairy-than-a-fairy, who now saw him for the first time in his real shape, hardly dared to gaze at him, fearing lest his appearance might not be in keeping with the voice and language which had won her heart.
at the same time she could not help feeling rather hurt at the apparent indifference with which she was received.
she related all the dangers and difficulties she had gone through, and though she repeated the story twenty times in a loud clear voice, the prince slept on and took no heed.
she then had recourse to the golden pomegranate, and on opening it found that all the seeds were as many little violins which flew up in the vaulted roof and at once began playing melodiously.
the prince was not completely roused, but he opened his eyes a little and looked all the handsomer.
impatient at not being recognised, fairer-than-a-fairy now drew out her third present, and on opening the crystal scent-bottle a little syren flew out, who silenced the violins and then sang close to the prince's ear the story of all his lady love had suffered in her search for him.
she added some gentle reproaches to her tale, but before she had got far he was wide awake, and transported with joy threw himself at the princess's feet.
at the same moment the walls of the room expanded and opened out, revealing a golden throne covered with jewels.
a magnificent court now began to assemble, and at the same time several elegant carriages filled with ladies in magnificent dresses drove up.
in the first and most splendid of these carriages sat prince rainbow's mother.
she fondly embraced her son, after which she informed him that his father had been dead for some years, that the anger of the fairies was at length appeased, and that he might return in peace to reign over his people, who were longing for his presence.
the court received the new king with joyful acclamations which would have delighted him at any other time, but all his thoughts were full of fairer-than-a-fairy.
he was just about to present her to his mother and the court, feeling sure that her charms would win all hearts, when the three green and white sisters appeared.
they declared the secret of fairy-than-a-fairy's royal birth, and the queen taking the two lovers in her carriage set off with them for the capital of the kingdom.
here they were received with tumultuous joy.
the wedding was celebrated without delay, and succeeding years diminished neither the virtues, beauty, nor the mutual affection of king rainbow and his queen, fairer-than-a-fairy.
the three brothers -lrb- 17 -rrb- -lrb- 17 -rrb- from the polish.
kletke.
there was once upon a time a witch, who in the shape of a hawk used every night to break the windows of a certain village church.
in the same village there lived three brothers, who were all determined to kill the mischievous hawk.
but in vain did the two eldest mount guard in the church with their guns; as soon as the bird appeared high above their heads, sleep overpowered them, and they only awoke to hear the windows crashing in.
then the youngest brother took his turn of guarding the windows, and to prevent his being overcome by sleep he placed a lot of thorns under his chin, so that if he felt drowsy and nodded his head, they would prick him and keep him awake.
the moon was already risen, and it was as light as day, when suddenly he heard a fearful noise, and at the same time a terrible desire to sleep overpowered him.
his eyelids closed, and his head sank on his shoulders, but the thorns ran into him and were so painful that he awoke at once.
he saw the hawk swooping down upon the church, and in a moment he had seized his gun and shot at the bird.
the hawk fell heavily under a big stone, severely wounded in its right wing.
the youth ran to look at it, and saw that a huge abyss had opened below the stone.
he went at once to fetch his brothers, and with their help dragged a lot of pine-wood and ropes to the spot.
they fastened some of the burning pine-wood to the end of the rope, and let it slowly down to the bottom of the abyss.
at first it was quite dark, and the flaming torch only lit up dirty grey stone walls.
but the youngest brother determined to explore the abyss, and letting himself down by the rope he soon reached the bottom.
here he found a lovely meadow full of green trees and exquisite flowers.
in the middle of the meadow stood a huge stone castle, with an iron gate leading to it, which was wide open.
everything in the castle seemed to be made of copper, and the only inhabitant he could discover was a lovely girl, who was combing her golden hair; and he noticed that whenever one of her hairs fell on the ground it rang out like pure metal.
the youth looked at her more closely, and saw that her skin was smooth and fair, her blue eyes bright and sparkling, and her hair as golden as the sun.
he fell in love with her on the spot, and kneeling at her feet, he implored her to become his wife.
the lovely girl accepted his proposal gladly; but at the same time she warned him that she could never come up to the world above till her mother, the old witch, was dead.
and she went on to tell him that the only way in which the old creature could be killed was with the sword that hung up in the castle; but the sword was so heavy that no one could lift it.
then the youth went into a room in the castle where everything was made of silver, and here he found another beautiful girl, the sister of his bride.
she was combing her silver hair, and every hair that fell on the ground rang out like pure metal.
the second girl handed him the sword, but though he tried with all his strength he could not lift it.
at last a third sister came to him and gave him a drop of something to drink, which she said would give him the needful strength.
he drank one drop, but still he could not lift the sword; then he drank a second, and the sword began to move; but only after he had drunk a third drop was he able to swing the sword over his head.
then he hid himself in the castle and awaited the old witch's arrival.
at last as it was beginning to grow dark she appeared.
she swooped down upon a big apple-tree, and after shaking some golden apples from it, she pounced down upon the earth.
as soon as her feet touched the ground she became transformed from a hawk into a woman.
this was the moment the youth was waiting for, and he swung his mighty sword in the air with all his strength and the witch's head fell off, and her blood spurted up on the walls.
without fear of any further danger, he packed up all the treasures of the castle into great chests, and gave his brothers a signal to pull them up out of the abyss.
first the treasures were attached to the rope and then the three lovely girls.
and now everything was up above and only he himself remained below.
but as he was a little suspicious of his brothers, he fastened a heavy stone on to the rope and let them pull it up.
at first they heaved with a will, but when the stone was half way up they let it drop suddenly, and it fell to the bottom broken into a hundred pieces.
"so that's what would have happened to my bones had i trusted myself to them," said the youth sadly; and he began to cry bitterly, not because of the treasures, but because of the lovely girl with her swanlike neck and golden hair.
for a long time he wandered sadly all through the beautiful underworld, and one day he met a magician who asked him the cause of his tears.
the youth told him all that had befallen him, and the magician said: "do not grieve, young man!
if you will guard the children who are hidden in the golden apple-tree, i will bring you at once up to the earth.
another magician who lives in this land always eats my children up.
it is in vain that i have hidden them under the earth and locked them into the castle.
now i have hidden them in the apple-tree; hide yourself there too, and at midnight you will see my enemy."
the youth climbed up the tree, and picked some of the beautiful golden apples, which he ate for his supper.
at midnight the wind began to rise, and a rustling sound was heard at the foot of the tree.
the youth looked down and beheld a long thick serpent beginning to crawl up the tree.
it wound itself round the stem and gradually got higher and higher.
it stretched its huge head, in which the eyes glittered fiercely, among the branches, searching for the nest in which the little children lay.
they trembled with terror when they saw the hideous creature, and hid themselves beneath the leaves.
then the youth swung his mighty sword in the air, and with one blow cut off the serpent's head.
he cut up the rest of the body into little bits and strewed them to the four winds.
the father of the rescued children was so delighted over the death of his enemy that he told the youth to get on his back, and in this way he carried him up to the world above.
with what joy did he hurry now to his brothers" house!
he burst into a room where they were all assembled, but no one knew who he was.
only his bride, who was serving as cook to her sisters, recognised her lover at once.
his brothers, who had quite believed he was dead, yielded him up his treasures at once, and flew into the woods in terror.
but the good youth forgave them all they had done, and divided his treasures with them.
then he built himself a big castle with golden windows, and there he lived happily with his golden-haired wife till the end of their lives.
the boy and the wolves, or the broken promise -lrb- 18 -rrb- -lrb- 18 -rrb- a north american indian story.
once upon a time an indian hunter built himself a house in the middle of a great forest, far away from all his tribe; for his heart was gentle and kind, and he was weary of the treachery and cruel deeds of those who had been his friends.
so he left them, and took his wife and three children, and they journeyed on until they found a spot near to a clear stream, where they began to cut down trees, and to make ready their wigwam.
for many years they lived peacefully and happily in this sheltered place, never leaving it except to hunt the wild animals, which served them both for food and clothes.
at last, however, the strong man felt sick, and before long he knew he must die.
so he gathered his family round him, and said his last words to them.
"you, my wife, the companion of my days, will follow me ere many moons have waned to the island of the blest.
but for you, o my children, whose lives are but newly begun, the wickedness, unkindness, and ingratitude from which i fled are before you.
yet i shall go hence in peace, my children, if you will promise always to love each other, and never to forsake your youngest brother.
"never!"
they replied, holding out their hands.
and the hunter died content.
scarcely eight moons had passed when, just as he had said, the wife went forth, and followed her husband; but before leaving her children she bade the two elder ones think of their promise never to forsake the younger, for he was a child, and weak.
and while the snow lay thick upon the ground, they tended him and cherished him; but when the earth showed green again, the heart of the young man stirred within him, and he longed to see the wigwams of the village where his father's youth was spent.
therefore he opened all his heart to his sister, who answered: "my brother, i understand your longing for our fellow-men, whom here we can not see.
but remember our father's words.
shall we not seek our own pleasures, and forget the little one?"
but he would not listen, and, making no reply, he took his bow and arrows and left the hut.
the snows fell and melted, yet he never returned; and at last the heart of the girl grew cold and hard, and her little boy became a burden in her eyes, till one day she spoke thus to him: "see, there is food for many days to come.
stay here within the shelter of the hut.
i go to seek our brother, and when i have found him i shall return hither."
but when, after hard journeying, she reached the village where her brother dwelt, and saw that he had a wife and was happy, and when she, too, was sought by a young brave, then she also forgot the boy alone in the forest, and thought only of her husband.
now as soon as the little boy had eaten all the food which his sister had left him, he went out into the woods, and gathered berries and dug up roots, and while the sun shone he was contented and had his fill.
but when the snows began and the wind howled, then his stomach felt empty and his limbs cold, and he hid in trees all the night, and only crept out to eat what the wolves had left behind.
and by-and-by, having no other friends, he sought their company, and sat by while they devoured their prey, and they grew to know him, and gave him food.
and without them he would have died in the snow.
but at last the snows melted, and the ice upon the great lake, and as the wolves went down to the shore, the boy went after them.
and it happened one day that his big brother was fishing in his canoe near the shore, and he heard the voice of a child singing in the indian tone -- "my brother, my brother!
i am becoming a wolf, i am becoming a wolf!"
and when he had so sung he howled as wolves howl.
then the heart of the elder sunk, and he hastened towards him, crying, "brother, little brother, come to me;" but he, being half a wolf, only continued his song.
and the louder the elder called him, "brother, little brother, come to me," the swifter he fled after his brothers the wolves, and the heavier grew his skin, till, with a long howl, he vanished into the depths of the forest.
so, with shame and anguish in his soul, the elder brother went back to his village, and, with his sister, mourned the little boy and the broken promise till the end of his life.
the glass axe -lrb- 19 -rrb- -lrb- 19 -rrb- from the hungarian.
kletke.
there was once upon a time a king and queen who had everything they could possibly wish for in this world except a child.
at last, after twelve years, the queen gave birth to a son; but she did not live long to enjoy her happiness, for on the following day she died.
but before her death she called her husband to her and said, "never let the child put his feet on the ground, for as soon as he does so he will fall into the power of a wicked fairy, who will do him much harm."
and these were the last words the poor queen spoke.
the boy throve and grew big, and when he was too heavy for his nurse to carry, a chair was made for him on little wheels, in which he could wander through the palace gardens without help; at other times he was carried about on a litter, and he was always carefully watched and guarded for fear he should at any time put his feet to the ground.
but as this sort of life was bad for his health, the doctors ordered him horse exercise, and he soon became a first-rate rider, and used to go out for long excursions on horseback, accompanied always by his father's stud-groom and a numerous retinue.
every day he rode through the neighbouring fields and woods, and always returned home in the evening safe and well.
in this way many years passed, and the prince grew to manhood, and hardly anyone remembered the queen's warning, though precautions were still taken, more from use and wont than for any other reason.
one day the prince and his suite went out for a ride in a wood where his father sometimes held a hunt.
their way led through a stream whose banks were overgrown with thick brushwood.
just as the horsemen were about to ford the river, a hare, startled by the sound of the horses" hoofs, started up from the grass and ran towards the thicket.
the young prince pursued the little creature, and had almost overtaken it, when the girth of his saddle suddenly broke in two and he fell heavily to the ground.
no sooner had his foot touched the earth than he disappeared before the eyes of the horrified courtiers.
they sought for him far and near, but all in vain, and they were forced to recognise the power of the evil fairy, against which the queen had warned them on her death-bed.
the old king was much grieved when they brought him the news of his son's disappearance, but as he could do nothing to free him from his fate, he gave himself up to an old age of grief and loneliness, cherishing at the same time the hope that some lucky chance might one day deliver the youth out of the hands of his enemy.
hardly had the prince touched the ground than he felt himself violently seized by an unseen power, and hurried away he knew not whither.
a whole new world stretched out before him, quite unlike the one he had left.
a splendid castle surrounded by a huge lake was the abode of the fairy, and the only approach to it was over a bridge of clouds.
on the other side of the lake high mountains rose up, and dark woods stretched along the banks; over all hung a thick mist, and deep silence reigned everywhere.
no sooner had the fairy reached her own domain than she made herself visible, and turning to the prince she told him that unless he obeyed all her commands down to the minutest detail he would be severely punished.
then she gave him an axe made of glass, and bade him cross the bridge of clouds and go into the wood beyond and cut down all the trees there before sunset.
at the same time she cautioned him with many angry words against speaking to a black girl he would most likely meet in the wood.
the prince listened to her words meekly, and when she had finished took up the glass axe and set out for the forest.
at every step he seemed to sink into the clouds, but fear gave wings to his feet, and he crossed the lake in safety and set to work at once.
but no sooner had he struck the first blow with his axe than it broke into a thousand pieces against the tree.
the poor youth was so terrified he did not know what to do, for he was in mortal dread of the punishment the wicked old fairy would inflict on him.
he wandered to and fro in the wood, not knowing where he was going, and at last, worn out by fatigue and misery, he sank on the ground and fell fast asleep.
he did not know how long he had slept when a sudden sound awoke him, and opening his eyes he saw a black girl standing beside him.
mindful of the fairy's warning he did not dare to address her, but she on her part greeted him in the most friendly manner, and asked him at once if he were under the power of the wicked fairy.
the prince nodded his head silently in answer.
then the black girl told him that she too was in the power of the fairy, who had doomed her to wander about in her present guise until some youth should take pity on her and bear her in safety to the other side of the river which they saw in the distance, and on the other side of which the fairy's domain and power ended.
the girl's words so inspired the prince with confidence that he told her all his tale of woe, and ended up by asking her advice as to how he was to escape the punishment the fairy would be sure to inflict on him when she discovered that he had not cut down the trees in the wood and that he had broken her axe.
"you must know," answered the black girl, "that the fairy in whose power we both are is my own mother, but you must not betray this secret, for it would cost me my life.
if you will only promise to try and free me i will stand by you, and will accomplish for you all the tasks which my mother sets you."
the prince promised joyfully all she asked; then having once more warned him not to betray her confidence, she handed him a draught to drink which very soon sunk his senses in a deep slumber.
his astonishment was great when he awoke to find the glass axe whole and unbroken at his side, and all the trees of the wood lying felled around him!
he made all haste across the bridge of clouds, and told the fairy that her commands were obeyed.
she was much amazed when she heard that all the wood was cut down, and saw the axe unbroken in his hand, and since she could not believe that he had done all this by himself, she questioned him narrowly if he had seen or spoken to the black girl.
but the prince lied manfully, and swore he had never looked up from his work for a moment.
seeing she could get nothing more out of him, she gave him a little bread and water, and showing him to a small dark cupboard she told him he might sleep there.
morning had hardly dawned when the fairy awoke the prince, and giving him the glass axe again she told him to cut up all the wood he had felled the day before, and to put it in bundles ready for firewood; at the same time she warned him once more against approaching or speaking a word to the black girl if he met her in the wood.
although his task was no easier than that of the day before, the youth set out much more cheerfully, because he knew he could count an the help of the black girl.
with quicker and lighter step he crossed the bridge of clouds, and hardly had he reached the other side than his friend stood before him and greeted him cheerfully.
when she heard what the fairy demanded this time, she answered smilingly, "never fear," and handed him another draught, which very soon caused the prince to sink into a deep sleep.
when he awoke everything, was done.
all the trees of the wood were cut up into firewood and arranged in bundles ready for use.
he returned to the castle as quickly as he could, and told the fairy that her commands were obeyed.
she was even more amazed than she had been before, and asked him again if he had either seen or spoken to the black girl; but the prince knew better than to betray his word, and once more lied freely.
on the following day the fairy set him a third task to do, even harder than the other two.
she told him he must build a castle on the other side of the lake, made of nothing but gold, silver, and precious stones, and unless he could accomplish this within an hour, the most frightful doom awaited him.
the prince heard her words without anxiety, so entirely did he rely on the help of his black friend.
full of hope he hurried across the bridge, and recognised at once the spot where the castle was to stand, for spades, hammers, axes, and every other building implement lay scattered on the ground ready for the workman's hand, but of gold, silver, and precious stones there was not a sign.
but before the prince had time to feel despondent the black girl beckoned to him in the distance from behind a rock, where she had hidden herself for fear her mother should catch sight of her.
full of joy the youth hurried towards her, and begged her aid and counsel in the new piece of work he had been given to do.
but this time the fairy had watched the prince's movements from her window, and she saw him hiding himself behind the rock with her daughter.
she uttered a piercing shriek so that the mountains re-echoed with the sound of it, and the terrified pair had hardly dared to look out from their hiding-place when the enraged woman, with her dress and hair flying in the wind, hurried over the bridge of clouds.
the prince at once gave himself up for lost, but the girl told him to be of good courage and to follow her as quickly as he could.
but before they left their shelter she broke off a little bit of the rock, spoke some magic words over it, and threw it in the direction her mother was coming from.
in a moment a glittering palace arose before the eyes of the fairy which blinded her with its dazzling splendour, and with its many doors and passages prevented her for some time from finding her way out of it.
in the meantime the black girl hurried on with the prince, hastening to reach the river, where once on the other side they would for ever be out of the wicked fairy's power.
but before they had accomplished half the way they heard again the rustle of her garments and her muttered curses pursuing them closely.
the prince was terrified; he dared not look back, and he felt his strength giving way.
but before he had time to despair the girl uttered some more magic words, and immediately she herself was changed into a pond, and the prince into a duck swimming on its surface.
when the fairy saw this her rage knew no bounds, and she used all her magic wits to make the pond disappear; she caused a hill of sand to arise at her feet, meaning it to dry up the water at once.
but the sand hill only drove the pond a little farther away, and its waters seemed to increase instead of diminishing.
when the old woman saw that the powers of her magic were of so little avail, she had recourse to cunning.
she threw a lot of gold nuts into the pond, hoping in this way to catch the duck, but all her efforts were fruitless, for the little creature refused to let itself be caught.
then a new idea struck the wicked old woman, and hiding herself behind the rock which had sheltered the fugitives, she waited behind it, watching carefully for the moment when the prince and her daughter should resume their natural forms and continue their journey.
she had not to wait long, for as soon as the girl thought her mother was safely out of the way, she changed herself and the prince once more into their human shape, and set out cheerfully for the river.
but they had not gone many steps when the wicked fairy hurried after them, a drawn dagger in her hand, and was close upon them, when suddenly, instead of the prince and her daughter, she found herself in front of a great stone church, whose entrance was carefully guarded by a huge monk.
breathless with rage and passion, she tried to plunge her dagger into the monk's heart, but it fell shattered in pieces at her feet.
in her desperation she determined to pull down the church, and thus to destroy her two victims for ever.
she stamped three times on the ground, and the earth trembled, and both the church and the monk began to shake.
as soon as the fairy saw this she retreated to some distance from the building, so as not to be hurt herself by its fall.
but once more her scheme was doomed to failure, for hardly had she gone a yard from the church than both it and the monk disappeared, and she found herself in a wood black as night, and full of wolves and bears and wild animals of all sorts and descriptions.
then her wrath gave place to terror, for she feared every moment to be torn in pieces by the beasts who one and all seemed to defy her power.
she thought it wisest to make her way as best she could out of the forest, and then to pursue the fugitives once more and accomplish their destruction either by force or cunning.
in the meantime the prince and the black girl had again assumed their natural forms, and were hurrying on as fast as they could to reach the river.
but when they got there they found that there was no way in which they could cross it, and the girl's magic art seemed no longer to have any power.
then turning to the prince she said, "the hour for my deliverance has not yet come, but as you promised to do all you could to free me, you must do exactly as i bid you now.
take this bow and arrow and kill every beast you see with them, and be sure you spare no living creature."
with these words she disappeared, and hardly had she done so than a huge wild boar started out of the thicket near and made straight for the prince.
but the youth did not lose his presence of mind, and drawing his bow he pierced the beast with his arrow right through the skull.
the creature fell heavily on the ground, and out of its side sprang a little hare, which ran like the wind along the river bank.
the prince drew his bow once more, and the hare lay dead at his feet; but at the same moment a dove rose up in the air, and circled round the prince's head in the most confiding manner.
but mindful of the black girl's commands, he dared not spare the little creature's life, and taking another arrow from his quiver he laid it as dead as the boar and the hare.
but when he went to look at the body of the bird he found instead of the dove a round white egg lying on the ground.
while he was gazing on it and wondering what it could mean, he heard the sweeping of wings above him, and looking up he saw a huge vulture with open claws swooping down upon him.
in a moment he seized the egg and flung it at the bird with all his might, and lo and behold!
instead of the ugly monster the most beautiful girl he had ever seen stood before the astonished eyes of the prince.
but while all this was going on the wicked old fairy had managed to make her way out of the wood, and was now using the last resource in her power to overtake her daughter and the prince.
as soon as she was in the open again she mounted her chariot, which was drawn by a fiery dragon, and flew through the air in it.
but just as she got to the river she saw the two lovers in each other's arms swimming through the water as easily as two fishes.
quick as lightning, and forgetful of every danger, she flew down upon them.
but the waters seized her chariot and sunk it in the lowest depths, and the waves bore the wicked old woman down the stream till she was caught in some thorn bushes, where she made a good meal for all the little fishes that were swimming about.
and so at last the prince and his lovely bride were free.
they hurried as quickly as they could to the old king, who received them with joy and gladness.
on the following day a most gorgeous wedding feast was held, and as far as we know the prince and his bride lived happily for ever afterwards.
the dead wife -lrb- 20 -rrb- -lrb- 20 -rrb- from the iroquois.
once upon a time there were a man and his wife who lived in the forest, very far from the rest of the tribe.
very often they spent the day in hunting together, but after a while the wife found that she had so many things to do that she was obliged to stay at home; so he went alone, though he found that when his wife was not with him he never had any luck.
one day, when he was away hunting, the woman fell ill, and in a few days she died.
her husband grieved bitterly, and buried her in the house where she had passed her life; but as the time went on he felt so lonely without her that he made a wooden doll about her height and size for company, and dressed it in her clothes.
he seated it in front of the fire, and tried to think he had his wife back again.
the next day he went out to hunt, and when he came home the first thing he did was to go up to the doll and brush off some of the ashes from the fire which had fallen on its face.
but he was very busy now, for he had to cook and mend, besides getting food, for there was no one to help him.
and so a whole year passed away.
at the end of that time he came back from hunting one night and found some wood by the door and a fire within.
the next night there was not only wood and fire, but a piece of meat in the kettle, nearly ready for eating.
he searched all about to see who could have done this, but could find no one.
the next time he went to hunt he took care not to go far, and came in quite early.
and while he was still a long way off he saw a woman going into the house with wood on her shoulders.
so he made haste, and opened the door quickly, and instead of the wooden doll, his wife sat in front of the fire.
then she spoke to him and said, "the great spirit felt sorry for you, because you would not be comforted, so he let me come back to you, but you must not stretch out your hand to touch me till we have seen the rest of our people.
if you do, i shall die."
so the man listened to her words, and the woman dwelt there, and brought the wood and kindled the fire, till one day her husband said to her, "it is now two years since you died.
let us now go back to our tribe.
then you will be well, and i can touch you."
and with that he prepared food for the journey, a string of deer's flesh for her to carry, and one for himself; and so they started.
now the camp of the tribe was distant six days" journey, and when they were yet one day's journey off it began to snow, and they felt weary and longed for rest.
therefore they made a fire, cooked some food, and spread out their skins to sleep.
then the heart of the man was greatly stirred, and he stretched out his arms to his wife, but she waved her hands and said, "we have seen no one yet; it is too soon."
but he would not listen to her, and caught her to him, and behold!
he was clasping the wooden doll.
and when he saw it was the doll he pushed it from him in his misery and rushed away to the camp, and told them all his story.
and some doubted, and they went back with him to the place where he and his wife had stopped to rest, and there lay the doll, and besides, they saw in the snow the steps of two people, and the foot of one was like the foot of the doll.
and the man grieved sore all the days of his life.
in the land of souls -lrb- 21 -rrb- -lrb- 21 -rrb- from the red indian.
far away, in north america, where the red indians dwell, there lived a long time ago a beautiful maiden, who was lovelier than any other girl in the whole tribe.
many of the young braves sought her in marriage, but she would listen to one only -- a handsome chief, who had taken her fancy some years before.
so they were to be married, and great rejoicings were made, and the two looked forward to a long life of happiness together, when the very night before the wedding feast a sudden illness seized the girl, and, without a word to her friends who were weeping round her, she passed silently away.
the heart of her lover had been set upon her, and the thought of her remained with him night and day.
he put aside his bow, and went neither to fight nor to hunt, but from sunrise to sunset he sat by the place where she was laid, thinking of his happiness that was buried there.
at last, after many days, a light seemed to come to him out of the darkness.
he remembered having heard from the old, old people of the tribe, that there was a path that led to the land of souls -- that if you sought carefully you could find it.
so the next morning he got up early, and put some food in his pouch and slung an extra skin over his shoulders, for he knew not how long his journey would take, nor what sort of country he would have to go through.
only one thing he knew, that if the path was there, he would find it.
at first he was puzzled, as there seemed no reason he should go in one direction more than another.
then all at once he thought he had heard one of the old men say that the land of souls lay to the south, and so, filled with new hope and courage, he set his face southwards.
for many, many miles the country looked the same as it did round his own home.
the forests, the hills, and the rivers all seemed exactly like the ones he had left.
the only thing that was different was the snow, which had lain thick upon the hills and trees when he started, but grew less and less the farther he went south, till it disappeared altogether.
soon the trees put forth their buds, and flowers sprang up under his feet, and instead of thick clouds there was blue sky over his head, and everywhere the birds were singing.
then he knew that he was in the right road.
the thought that he should soon behold his lost bride made his heart beat for joy, and he sped along lightly and swiftly.
now his way led through a dark wood, and then over some steep cliffs, and on the top of these he found a hut or wigwam.
an old man clothed in skins, and holding a staff in his hand, stood in the doorway; and he said to the young chief who was beginning to tell his story," i was waiting for you, wherefore you have come i know.
it is but a short while since she whom you seek was here.
rest in my hut, as she also rested, and i will tell you what you ask, and whither you should go."
on hearing these words, the young man entered the hut, but his heart was too eager within him to suffer him to rest, and when he arose, the old man rose too, and stood with him at the door.
"look," he said, "at the water which lies far out yonder, and the plains which stretch beyond.
that is the land of souls, but no man enters it without leaving his body behind him.
so, lay down your body here; your bow and arrows, your skin and your dog.
they shall be kept for you safely."
then he turned away, and the young chief, light as air, seemed hardly to touch the ground; and as he flew along the scents grew sweeter and the flowers more beautiful, while the animals rubbed their noses against him, instead of hiding as he approached, and birds circled round him, and fishes lifted up their heads and looked as he went by.
very soon he noticed with wonder, that neither rocks nor trees barred his path.
he passed through them without knowing it, for indeed, they were not rocks and trees at all, but only the souls of them; for this was the land of shadows.
so he went on with winged feet till he came to the shores of a great lake, with a lovely island in the middle of it; while on the bank of the lake was a canoe of glittering stone, and in the canoe were two shining paddles.
the chief jumped straight into the canoe, and seizing the paddles pushed off from the shore, when to his joy and wonder he saw following him in another canoe exactly like his own the maiden for whose sake he had made this long journey.
but they could not touch each other, for between them rolled great waves, which looked as if they would sink the boats, yet never did.
and the young man and the maiden shrank with fear, for down in the depths of the water they saw the bones of those who had died before, and in the waves themselves men and women were struggling, and but few passed over.
only the children had no fear, and reached the other side in safety.
still, though the chief and the young girl quailed in terror at these horrible sights and sounds, no harm came to them, for their lives had been free from evil, and the master of life had said that no evil should happen unto them.
so they reached unhurt the shore of the happy island, and wandered through the flowery fields and by the banks of rushing streams, and they knew not hunger nor thirst; neither cold nor heat.
the air fed them and the sun warmed them, and they forgot the dead, for they saw no graves, and the young man's thoughts turned not to wars, neither to the hunting of animals.
and gladly would these two have walked thus for ever, but in the murmur of the wind he heard the master of life saying to him, "return whither you came, for i have work for you to do, and your people need you, and for many years you shall rule over them.
at the gate my messenger awaits you, and you shall take again your body which you left behind, and he will show you what you are to do.
listen to him, and have patience, and in time to come you shall rejoin her whom you must now leave, for she is accepted, and will remain ever young and beautiful, as when i called her hence from the land of snows."
the white duck once upon a time a great and powerful king married a lovely princess.
no couple were ever so happy; but before their honeymoon was over they were forced to part, for the king had to go on a warlike expedition to a far country, and leave his young wife alone at home.
bitter were the tears she shed, while her husband sought in vain to soothe her with words of comfort and counsel, warning her, above all things, never to leave the castle, to hold no intercourse with strangers, to beware of evil counsellors, and especially to be on her guard against strange women.
and the queen promised faithfully to obey her royal lord and master in these four matters.
so when the king set out on his expedition she shut herself up with her ladies in her own apartments, and spent her time in spinning and weaving, and in thinking of her royal husband.
often she was very sad and lonely, and it happened that one day while she was seated at the window, letting salt tears drop on her work, an old woman, a kind, homely-looking old body, stepped up to the window, and, leaning upon her crutch, addressed the queen in friendly, flattering tones, saying: "why are you sad and cast down, fair queen?
you should not mope all day in your rooms, but should come out into the green garden, and hear the birds sing with joy among the trees, and see the butterflies fluttering above the flowers, and hear the bees and insects hum, and watch the sunbeams chase the dew-drops through the rose-leaves and in the lily-cups.
all the brightness outside would help to drive away your cares, o queen."
for long the queen resisted her coaxing words, remembering the promise she had given the king, her husband; but at last she thought to herself: after all, what harm would it do if i were to go into the garden for a short time and enjoy myself among the trees and flowers, and the singing birds and fluttering butterflies and humming insects, and look at the dew-drops hiding from the sunbeams in the hearts of the roses and lilies, and wander about in the sunshine, instead of remaining all day in this room?
for she had no idea that the kind-looking old woman leaning on her crutch was in reality a wicked witch, who envied the queen her good fortune, and was determined to ruin her.
and so, in all ignorance, the queen followed her out into the garden and listened to her smooth, flattering words.
now, in the middle of the garden there was a pond of water, clear as crystal, and the old woman said to the queen: "the day is so warm, and the sun's rays so scorching, that the water in the pond looks very cool and inviting.
would you not like to bathe in it, fair queen?"
"no, i think not," answered the queen; but the next moment she regretted her words, and thought to herself: why should n't i bathe in that cool, fresh water?
no harm could come of it.
and, so saying, she slipped off her robes and stepped into the water.
but scarcely had her tender feet touched the cool ripples when she felt a great shove on her shoulders, and the wicked witch had pushed her into the deep water, exclaiming: "swim henceforth, white duck!"
and the witch herself assumed the form of the queen, and decked herself out in the royal robes, and sat among the court ladies, awaiting the king's return.
and suddenly the tramp of horses" hoofs was heard, and the barking of dogs, and the witch hastened forward to meet the royal carriages, and, throwing her arms round the king's neck, kissed him.
and in his great joy the king did not know that the woman he held in his arms was not his own dear wife, but a wicked witch.
in the meantime, outside the palace walls, the poor white duck swam up and down the pond; and near it laid three eggs, out of which there came one morning two little fluffy ducklings and a little ugly drake.
and the white duck brought the little creatures up, and they paddled after her in the pond, and caught gold-fish, and hopped upon the bank and waddled about, ruffling their feathers and saying "quack, quack" as they strutted about on the green banks of the pond.
but their mother used to warn them not to stray too far, telling them that a wicked witch lived in the castle beyond the garden, adding, "she has ruined me, and she will do her best to ruin you."
but the young ones did not listen to their mother, and, playing about the garden one day, they strayed close up to the castle windows.
the witch at once recognised them by their smell, and ground her teeth with anger; but she hid her feelings, and, pretending to be very kind she called them to her and joked with them, and led them into a beautiful room, where she gave them food to eat, and showed them a soft cushion on which they might sleep.
then she left them and went down into the palace kitchens, where she told the servants to sharpen the knives, and to make a great fire ready, and hang a large kettleful of water over it.
in the meantime the two little ducklings had fallen asleep, and the little drake lay between them, covered up by their wings, to be kept warm under their feathers.
but the little drake could not go to sleep, and as he lay there wide awake in the night he heard the witch come to the door and say: "little ones, are you asleep?"
and the little drake answered for the other two: "we can not sleep, we wake and weep, sharp is the knife, to take our life; the fire is hot, now boils the pot, and so we wake, and lie and quake."
"they are not asleep yet," muttered the witch to herself; and she walked up and down in the passage, and then came back to the door, and said: "little ones, are you asleep?"
and again the little drake answered for his sisters: "we can not sleep, we wake and weep, sharp is the knife, to take our life; the fire is hot, now boils the pot, and so we wake, and lie and quake."
"just the same answer," muttered the witch;" i think i'll go in and see."
so she opened the door gently, and seeing the two little ducklings sound asleep, she there and then killed them.
the next morning the white duck wandered round the pond in a distracted manner, looking for her little ones; she called and she searched, but could find no trace of them.
and in her heart she had a foreboding that evil had befallen them, and she fluttered up out of the water and flew to the palace.
and there, laid out on the marble floor of the court, dead and stone cold, were her three children.
the white duck threw herself upon them, and, covering up their little bodies with her wings, she cried: "quack, quack -- my little loves!
quack, quack -- my turtle-doves!
i brought you up with grief and pain, and now before my eyes you're slain.
i gave you always of the best; i kept you warm in my soft nest.
i loved and watched you day and night -- you were my joy, my one delight."
the king heard the sad complaint of the white duck, and called to the witch: "wife, what a wonder is this?
listen to that white duck."
but the witch answered, "my dear husband, what do you mean?
there is nothing wonderful in a duck's quacking.
here, servants!
chase that duck out of the courtyard."
but though the servants chased and chevied, they could not get rid of the duck; for she circled round and round, and always came back to the spot where her children lay, crying: "quack, quack -- my little loves!
quack, quack -- my turtle-doves!
the wicked witch your lives did take -- the wicked witch, the cunning snake.
first she stole my king away, then my children did she slay.
changed me, from a happy wife, to a duck for all my life.
would i were the queen again; would that you had never been slain."
and as the king heard her words he began to suspect that he had been deceived, and he called out to the servants, "catch that duck, and bring it here."
but, though they ran to and fro, the duck always fled past them, and would not let herself be caught.
so the king himself stepped down amongst them, and instantly the duck fluttered down into his hands.
and as he stroked her wings she was changed into a beautiful woman, and he recognised his dear wife.
and she told him that a bottle would be found in her nest in the garden, containing some drops from the spring of healing.
and it was brought to her; and the ducklings and little drake were sprinkled with the water, and from the little dead bodies three lovely children arose.
and the king and queen were overjoyed when they saw their children, and they all lived happily together in the beautiful palace.
but the wicked witch was taken by the king's command, and she came to no good end.
the witch and her servants -lrb- 22 -rrb- -lrb- 22 -rrb- from the russian.
kletke.
long time ago there lived a king who had three sons; the eldest was called szabo, the second warza, and the youngest iwanich.
one beautiful spring morning the king was walking through his gardens with these three sons, gazing with admiration at the various fruit-trees, some of which were a mass of blossom, whilst others were bowed to the ground laden with rich fruit.
during their wanderings they came unperceived on a piece of waste land where three splendid trees grew.
the king looked on them for a moment, and then, shaking his head sadly, he passed on in silence.
the sons, who could not understand why he did this, asked him the reason of his dejection, and the king told them as follows: "these three trees, which i can not see without sorrow, were planted by me on this spot when i was a youth of twenty.
a celebrated magician, who had given the seed to my father, promised him that they would grow into the three finest trees the world had ever seen.
my father did not live to see his words come true; but on his death-bed he bade me transplant them here, and to look after them with the greatest care, which i accordingly did.
at last, after the lapse of five long years, i noticed some blossoms on the branches, and a few days later the most exquisite fruit my eyes had ever seen."
i gave my head-gardener the strictest orders to watch the trees carefully, for the magician had warned my father that if one unripe fruit were plucked from the tree, all the rest would become rotten at once.
when it was quite ripe the fruit would become a golden yellow.
"every day i gazed on the lovely fruit, which became gradually more and more tempting-looking, and it was all i could do not to break the magician's commands.
"one night i dreamt that the fruit was perfectly ripe; i ate some of it, and it was more delicious than anything i had ever tasted in real life.
as soon as i awoke i sent for the gardener and asked him if the fruit on the three trees had not ripened in the night to perfection.
"but instead of replying, the gardener threw himself at my feet and swore that he was innocent.
he said that he had watched by the trees all night, but in spite of it, and as if by magic, the beautiful trees had been robbed of all their fruit.
"grieved as i was over the theft, i did not punish the gardener, of whose fidelity i was well assured, but i determined to pluck off all the fruit in the following year before it was ripe, as i had not much belief in the magician's warning."
i carried out my intention, and had all the fruit picked off the tree, but when i tasted one of the apples it was bitter and unpleasant, and the next morning the rest of the fruit had all rotted away.
"after this i had the beautiful fruit of these trees carefully guarded by my most faithful servants; but every year, on this very night, the fruit was plucked and stolen by an invisible hand, and next morning not a single apple remained on the trees.
for some time past i have given up even having the trees watched."
when the king had finished his story, szabo, his eldest son, said to him: "forgive me, father, if i say i think you are mistaken.
i am sure there are many men in your kingdom who could protect these trees from the cunning arts of a thieving magician; i myself, who as your eldest son claim the first right to do so, will mount guard over the fruit this very night."
the king consented, and as soon as evening drew on szabo climbed up on to one of the trees, determined to protect the fruit even if it cost him his life.
so he kept watch half the night; but a little after midnight he was overcome by an irresistible drowsiness, and fell fast asleep.
he did not awake till it was bright daylight, and all the fruit on the trees had vanished.
the following year warza, the second brother, tried his luck, but with the same result.
then it came to the turn of the third and youngest son.
iwanich was not the least discouraged by the failure of his elder brothers, though they were both much older and stronger than he was, and when night came climbed up the tree as they had done, the moon had risen, and with her soft light lit up the whole neighbourhood, so that the observant prince could distinguish the smallest object distinctly.
at midnight a gentle west wind shook the tree, and at the same moment a snow-white swan-like bird sank down gently on his breast.
the prince hastily seized the bird's wings in his hands, when, lo!
to his astonishment he found he was holding in his arms not a bird but the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.
"you need not fear militza," said the beautiful girl, looking at the prince with friendly eyes.
"an evil magician has not robbed you of your fruit, but he stole the seed from my mother, and thereby caused her death.
when she was dying she bade me take the fruit, which you have no right to possess, from the trees every year as soon as it was ripe.
this i would have done to-night too, if you had not seized me with such force, and so broken the spell i was under."
iwanich, who had been prepared to meet a terrible magician and not a lovely girl, fell desperately in love with her.
they spent the rest of the night in pleasant conversation, and when militza wished to go away he begged her not to leave him."
i would gladly stay with you longer," said militza, "but a wicked witch once cut off a lock of my hair when i was asleep, which has put me in her power, and if morning were still to find me here she would do me some harm, and you, too, perhaps."
having said these words, she drew a sparkling diamond ring from her finger, which she handed to the prince, saying: "keep this ring in memory of militza, and think of her sometimes if you never see her again.
but if your love is really true, come and find me in my own kingdom.
i may not show you the way there, but this ring will guide you.
"if you have love and courage enough to undertake this journey, whenever you come to a cross-road always look at this diamond before you settle which way you are going to take.
if it sparkles as brightly as ever go straight on, but if its lustre is dimmed choose another path."
then militza bent over the prince and kissed him on his forehead, and before he had time to say a word she vanished through the branches of the tree in a little white cloud.
morning broke, and the prince, still full of the wonderful apparition, left his perch and returned to the palace like one in a dream, without even knowing if the fruit had been taken or not; for his whole mind was absorbed by thoughts of militza and how he was to find her.
as soon as the head-gardener saw the prince going towards the palace he ran to the trees, and when he saw them laden with ripe fruit he hastened to tell the king the joyful news.
the king was beside himself for joy, and hurried at once to the garden and made the gardener pick him some of the fruit.
he tasted it, and found the apple quite as luscious as it had been in his dream.
he went at once to his son iwanich, and after embracing him tenderly and heaping praises on him, he asked him how he had succeeded in protecting the costly fruit from the power of the magician.
this question placed iwanich in a dilemma.
but as he did not want the real story to be known, he said that about midnight a huge wasp had flown through the branches, and buzzed incessantly round him.
he had warded it off with his sword, and at dawn, when he was becoming quite worn out, the wasp had vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.
the king, who never doubted the truth of this tale, bade his son go to rest at once and recover from the fatigues of the night; but he himself went and ordered many feasts to be held in honour of the preservation of the wonderful fruit.
the whole capital was in a stir, and everyone shared in the king's joy; the prince alone took no part in the festivities.
while the king was at a banquet, iwanich took some purses of gold, and mounting the quickest horse in the royal stable, he sped off like the wind without a single soul being any the wiser.
it was only on the next day that they missed him; the king was very distressed at his disappearance, and sent search-parties all over the kingdom to look for him, but in vain; and after six months they gave him up as dead, and in another six months they had forgotten all about him.
but in the meantime the prince, with the help of his ring, had had a most successful journey, and no evil had befallen him.
at the end of three months he came to the entrance of a huge forest, which looked as if it had never been trodden by human foot before, and which seemed to stretch out indefinitely.
the prince was about to enter the wood by a little path he had discovered, when he heard a voice shouting to him: "hold, youth!
whither are you going?"
iwanich turned round, and saw a tall, gaunt-looking man, clad in miserable rags, leaning on a crooked staff and seated at the foot of an oak tree, which was so much the same colour as himself that it was little wonder the prince had ridden past the tree without noticing him.
"where else should i be going," he said, "than through the wood?"
"through the wood?"
said the old man in amazement.
"it's easily seen that you have heard nothing of this forest, that you rush so blindly to meet your doom.
well, listen to me before you ride any further; let me tell you that this wood hides in its depths a countless number of the fiercest tigers, hyenas, wolves, bears, and snakes, and all sorts of other monsters.
if i were to cut you and your horse up into tiny morsels and throw them to the beasts, there would n't be one bit for each hundred of them.
take my advice, therefore, and if you wish to save your life follow some other path."
the prince was rather taken aback by the old man's words, and considered for a minute what he should do; then looking at his ring, and perceiving that it sparkled as brightly as ever, he called out: "if this wood held even more terrible things than it does, i can not help myself, for i must go through it."
here he spurred his horse and rode on; but the old beggar screamed so loudly after him that the prince turned round and rode back to the oak tree."
i am really sorry for you," said the beggar, "but if you are quite determined to brave the dangers of the forest, let me at least give you a piece of advice which will help you against these monsters.
"take this bagful of bread-crumbs and this live hare.
i will make you a present of them both, as i am anxious to save your life; but you must leave your horse behind you, for it would stumble over the fallen trees or get entangled in the briers and thorns.
when you have gone about a hundred yards into the wood the wild beasts will surround you.
then you must instantly seize your bag, and scatter the bread-crumbs among them.
they will rush to eat them up greedily, and when you have scattered the last crumb you must lose no time in throwing the hare to them; as soon as the hare feels itself on the ground it will run away as quickly as possible, and the wild beasts will turn to pursue it.
in this way you will be able to get through the wood unhurt."
iwanich thanked the old man for his counsel, dismounted from his horse, and, taking the bag and the hare in his arms, he entered the forest.
he had hardly lost sight of his gaunt grey friend when he heard growls and snarls in the thicket close to him, and before he had time to think he found himself surrounded by the most dreadful-looking creatures.
on one side he saw the glittering eye of a cruel tiger, on the other the gleaming teeth of a great she-wolf; here a huge bear growled fiercely, and there a horrible snake coiled itself in the grass at his feet.
but iwanich did not forget the old man's advice, and quickly put his hand into the bag and took out as many bread-crumbs as he could hold in his hand at a time.
he threw them to the beasts, but soon the bag grew lighter and lighter, and the prince began to feel a little frightened.
and now the last crumb was gone, and the hungry beasts thronged round him, greedy for fresh prey.
then he seized the hare and threw it to them.
no sooner did the little creature feel itself on the ground than it lay back its ears and flew through the wood like an arrow from a bow, closely pursued by the wild beasts, and the prince was left alone.
he looked at his ring, and when he saw that it sparkled as brightly as ever he went straight on through the forest.
he had n't gone very far when he saw a most extraordinary looking man coming towards him.
he was not more than three feet high, his legs were quite crooked, and all his body was covered with prickles like a hedgehog.
two lions walked with him, fastened to his side by the two ends of his long beard.
he stopped the prince and asked him in a harsh voice: "are you the man who has just fed my body-guard?"
iwanich was so startled that he could hardly reply, but the little man continued: "i am most grateful to you for your kindness; what can i give you as a reward?"
"all i ask," replied iwanich, "is, that i should be allowed to go through this wood in safety."
"most certainly," answered the little man; "and for greater security i will give you one of my lions as a protector.
but when you leave this wood and come near a palace which does not belong to my domain, let the lion go, in order that he may not fall into the hands of an enemy and be killed."
with these words he loosened the lion from his beard and bade the beast guard the youth carefully.
with this new protector iwanich wandered on through the forest, and though he came upon a great many more wolves, hyenas, leopards, and other wild beasts, they always kept at a respectful distance when they saw what sort of an escort the prince had with him.
iwanich hurried through the wood as quickly as his legs would carry him, but, nevertheless, hour after hour went by and not a trace of a green field or a human habitation met his eyes.
at length, towards evening, the mass of trees grew more transparent, and through the interlaced branches a wide plain was visible.
at the exit of the wood the lion stood still, and the prince took leave of him, having first thanked him warmly for his kind protection.
it had become quite dark, and iwanich was forced to wait for daylight before continuing his journey.
he made himself a bed of grass and leaves, lit a fire of dry branches, and slept soundly till the next morning.
then he got up and walked towards a beautiful white palace which he saw gleaming in the distance.
in about an hour he reached the building, and opening the door he walked in.
after wandering through many marble halls, he came to a huge staircase made of porphyry, leading down to a lovely garden.
the prince burst into a shout of joy when he suddenly perceived militza in the centre of a group of girls who were weaving wreaths of flowers with which to deck their mistress.
as soon as militza saw the prince she ran up to him and embraced him tenderly; and after he had told her all his adventures, they went into the palace, where a sumptuous meal awaited them.
then the princess called her court together, and introduced iwanich to them as her future husband.
preparations were at once made for the wedding, which was held soon after with great pomp and magnificence.
three months of great happiness followed, when militza received one day an invitation to visit her mother's sister.
although the princess was very unhappy at leaving her husband, she did not like to refuse the invitation, and, promising to return in seven days at the latest, she took a tender farewell of the prince, and said: "before i go i will hand you over all the keys of the castle.
go everywhere and do anything you like; only one thing i beg and beseech you, do not open the little iron door in the north tower, which is closed with seven locks and seven bolts; for if you do, we shall both suffer for it."
iwanich promised what she asked, and militza departed, repeating her promise to return in seven days.
when the prince found himself alone he began to be tormented by pangs of curiosity as to what the room in the tower contained.
for two days he resisted the temptation to go and look, but on the third he could stand it no longer, and taking a torch in his hand he hurried to the tower, and unfastened one lock after the other of the little iron door until it burst open.
what an unexpected sight met his gaze!
the prince perceived a small room black with smoke, lit up feebly by a fire from which issued long blue flames.
over the fire hung a huge cauldron full of boiling pitch, and fastened into the cauldron by iron chains stood a wretched man screaming with agony.
iwanich was much horrified at the sight before him, and asked the man what terrible crime he had committed to be punished in this dreadful fashion."
i will tell you everything," said the man in the cauldron; "but first relieve my torments a little, i implore you."
"and how can i do that?"
asked the prince.
"with a little water," replied the man; "only sprinkle a few drops over me and i shall feel better."
the prince, moved by pity, without thinking what he was doing, ran to the courtyard of the castle, and filled a jug with water, which he poured over the man in the cauldron.
in a moment a most fearful crash was heard, as if all the pillars of the palace were giving way, and the palace itself, with towers and doors, windows and the cauldron, whirled round the bewildered prince's head.
this continued for a few minutes, and then everything vanished into thin air, and iwanich found himself suddenly alone upon a desolate heath covered with rocks and stones.
the prince, who now realised what his heedlessness had done, cursed too late his spirit of curiosity.
in his despair he wandered on over the heath, never looking where he put his feet, and full of sorrowful thoughts.
at last he saw a light in the distance, which came from a miserable-looking little hut.
the owner of it was none other than the kind-hearted gaunt grey beggar who had given the prince the bag of bread-crumbs and the hare.
without recognising iwanich, he opened the door when he knocked and gave him shelter for the night.
on the following morning the prince asked his host if he could get him any work to do, as he was quite unknown in the neighbourhood, and had not enough money to take him home.
"my son," replied the old man, "all this country round here is uninhabited; i myself have to wander to distant villages for my living, and even then i do not very often find enough to satisfy my hunger.
but if you would like to take service with the old witch corva, go straight up the little stream which flows below my hut for about three hours, and you will come to a sand-hill on the left-hand side; that is where she lives."
iwanich thanked the gaunt grey beggar for his information, and went on his way.
after walking for about three hours the prince came upon a dreary-looking grey stone wall; this was the back of the building and did not attract him; but when he came upon the front of the house he found it even less inviting, for the old witch had surrounded her dwelling with a fence of spikes, on every one of which a man's skull was stuck.
in this horrible enclosure stood a small black house, which had only two grated windows, all covered with cobwebs, and a battered iron door.
the prince knocked, and a rasping woman's voice told him to enter.
iwanich opened the door, and found himself in a smoke-begrimed kitchen, in the presence of a hideous old woman who was warming her skinny hands at a fire.
the prince offered to become her servant, and the old hag told him she was badly in want of one, and he seemed to be just the person to suit her.
when iwanich asked what his work, and how much his wages would be, the witch bade him follow her, and led the way through a narrow damp passage into a vault, which served as a stable.
here he perceived two pitch-black horses in a stall.
"you see before you," said the old woman," a mare and her foal; you have nothing to do but to lead them out to the fields every day, and to see that neither of them runs away from you.
if you look after them both for a whole year i will give you anything you like to ask; but if, on the other hand, you let either of the animals escape you, your last hour is come, and your head shall be stuck on the last spike of my fence.
the other spikes, as you see, are already adorned, and the skulls are all those of different servants i have had who have failed to do what i demanded."
iwanich, who thought he could not be much worse off than he was already, agreed to the witch's proposal.
at daybreak nest morning he drove his horses to the field, and brought them back in the evening without their ever having attempted to break away from him.
the witch stood at her door and received him kindly, and set a good meal before him.
so it continued for some time, and all went well with the prince.
early every morning he led the horses out to the fields, and brought them home safe and sound in the evening.
one day, while he was watching the horses, he came to the banks of a river, and saw a big fish, which through some mischance had been cast on the land, struggling hard to get back into the water.
iwanich, who felt sorry for the poor creature, seized it in his arms and flung it into the stream.
but no sooner did the fish find itself in the water again, than, to the prince's amazement, it swam up to the bank and said: "my kind benefactor, how can i reward you for your goodness?'"
i desire nothing," answered the prince."
i am quite content to have been able to be of some service to you."
"you must do me the favour," replied the fish, "to take a scale from my body, and keep it carefully.
if you should ever need my help, throw it into the river, and i will come to your aid at once."
iwanich bowed, loosened a scale from the body of the grateful beast, put it carefully away, and returned home.
a short time after this, when he was going early one morning to the usual grazing place with his horses, he noticed a flock of birds assembled together making a great noise and flying wildly backwards and forwards.
full of curiosity, iwanich hurried up to the spot, and saw that a large number of ravens had attacked an eagle, and although the eagle was big and powerful and was making a brave fight, it was overpowered at last by numbers, and had to give in.
but the prince, who was sorry for the poor bird, seized the branch of a tree and hit out at the ravens with it; terrified at this unexpected onslaught they flew away, leaving many of their number dead or wounded on the battlefield.
as soon as the eagle saw itself free from its tormentors it plucked a feather from its wing, and, handing it to the prince, said: "here, my kind benefactor, take this feather as a proof of my gratitude; should you ever be in need of my help blow this feather into the air, and i will help you as much as is in my power."
iwanich thanked the bird, and placing the feather beside the scale he drove the horses home.
another day he had wandered farther than usual, and came close to a farmyard; the place pleased the prince, and as there was plenty of good grass for the horses he determined to spend the day there.
just as he was sitting down under a tree he heard a cry close to him, and saw a fox which had been caught in a trap placed there by the farmer.
in vain did the poor beast try to free itself; then the good-natured prince came once more to the rescue, and let the fox out of the trap.
the fox thanked him heartily, tore two hairs out of his bushy tail, and said: "should you ever stand in need of my help throw these two hairs into the fire, and in a moment i shall be at your side ready to obey you."
iwanich put the fox's hairs with the scale and the feather, and as it was getting dark he hastened home with his horses.
in the meantime his service was drawing near to an end, and in three more days the year was up, and he would be able to get his reward and leave the witch.
on the first evening of these last three days, when he came home and was eating his supper, he noticed the old woman stealing into the stables.
the prince followed her secretly to see what she was going to do.
he crouched down in the doorway and heard the wicked witch telling the horses to wait next morning till iwanich was asleep, and then to go and hide themselves in the river, and to stay there till she told them to return; and if they did n't do as she told them the old woman threatened to beat them till they bled.
when iwanich heard all this he went back to his room, determined that nothing should induce him to fall asleep next day.
on the following morning he led the mare and foal to the fields as usual, but bound a cord round them both which he kept in his hand.
but after a few hours, by the magic arts of the old witch, he was overpowered by sleep, and the mare and foal escaped and did as they had been told to do.
the prince did not awake till late in the evening; and when he did, he found, to his horror, that the horses had disappeared.
filled with despair, he cursed the moment when he had entered the service of the cruel witch, and already he saw his head sticking up on the sharp spike beside the others.
then he suddenly remembered the fish's scale, which, with the eagle's feather and the fox's hairs, he always carried about with him.
he drew the scale from his pocket, and hurrying to the river he threw it in.
in a minute the grateful fish swam towards the bank on which iwanich was standing, and said: "what do you command, my friend and benefactor?"
the prince replied: "i had to look after a mare and foal, and they have run away from me and have hidden themselves in the river; if you wish to save my life drive them back to the land."
"wait a moment," answered the fish, "and i and my friends will soon drive them out of the water."
with these words the creature disappeared into the depths of the stream.
almost immediately a rushing hissing sound was heard in the waters, the waves dashed against the banks, the foam was tossed into the air, and the two horses leapt suddenly on to the dry land, trembling and shaking with fear.
iwanich sprang at once on to the mare's back, seized the foal by its bridle, and hastened home in the highest spirits.
when the witch saw the prince bringing the horses home she could hardly conceal her wrath, and as soon as she had placed iwanich's supper before him she stole away again to the stables.
the prince followed her, and heard her scolding the beasts harshly for not having hidden themselves better.
she bade them wait next morning till iwanich was asleep and then to hide themselves in the clouds, and to remain there till she called.
if they did not do as she told them she would beat them till they bled.
the next morning, after iwanich had led his horses to the fields, he fell once more into a magic sleep.
the horses at once ran away and hid themselves in the clouds, which hung down from the mountains in soft billowy masses.
when the prince awoke and found that both the mare and the foal had disappeared, he bethought him at once of the eagle, and taking the feather out of his pocket he blew it into the air.
in a moment the bird swooped down beside him and asked: "what do you wish me to do?"
"my mare and foal," replied the prince, "have run away from me, and have hidden themselves in the clouds; if you wish to save my life, restore both animals to me."
"wait a minute," answered the eagle; "with the help of my friends i will soon drive them back to you."
with these words the bird flew up into the air and disappeared among the clouds.
almost directly iwanich saw his two horses being driven towards him by a host of eagles of all sizes.
he caught the mare and foal, and having thanked the eagle he drove them cheerfully home again.
the old witch was more disgusted than ever when she saw him appearing, and having set his supper before him she stole into the stables, and iwanich heard her abusing the horses for not having hidden themselves better in the clouds.
then she bade them hide themselves next morning, as soon as iwanich was asleep, in the king's hen-house, which stood on a lonely part of the heath, and to remain there till she called.
if they failed to do as she told them she would certainly beat them this time till they bled.
on the following morning the prince drove his horses as usual to the fields.
after he had been overpowered by sleep, as on the former days, the mare and foal ran away and hid themselves in the royal hen house.
when the prince awoke and found the horses gone he determined to appeal to the fox; so, lighting a fire, he threw the two hairs into it, and in a few moments the fox stood beside him and asked: "in what way can i serve you?'"
i wish to know," replied iwanich, "where the king's hen-house is."
"hardly an hour's walk from here," answered the fox, and offered to show the prince the way to it.
while they were walking along the fox asked him what he wanted to do at the royal hen-house.
the prince told him of the misfortune that had befallen him, and of the necessity of recovering the mare and foal.
"that is no easy matter," replied the fox.
"but wait a moment.
i have an idea.
stand at the door of the hen-house, and wait there for your horses.
in the meantime i will slip in among the hens through a hole in the wall and give them a good chase, so that the noise they make will arouse the royal henwives, and they will come to see what is the matter.
when they see the horses they will at once imagine them to be the cause of the disturbance, and will drive them out.
then you must lay hands on the mare and foal and catch them.
all turned out exactly as the sly fox had foreseen.
the prince swung himself on the mare, seized the foal by its bridle, and hurried home.
while he was riding over the heath in the highest of spirits the mare suddenly said to her rider: "you are the first person who has ever succeeded in outwitting the old witch corva, and now you may ask what reward you like for your service.
if you promise never to betray me i will give you a piece of advice which you will do well to follow."
the prince promised never to betray her confidence, and the mare continued: "ask nothing else as a reward than my foal, for it has not its like in the world, and is not to be bought for love or money; for it can go from one end of the earth to another in a few minutes.
of course the cunning corva will do her best to dissuade you from taking the foal, and will tell you that it is both idle and sickly; but do not believe her, and stick to your point."
iwanich longed to possess such an animal, and promised the mare to follow her advice.
this time corva received him in the most friendly manner, and set a sumptuous repast before him.
as soon as he had finished she asked him what reward he demanded for his year's service.
"nothing more nor less," replied the prince, "than the foal of your mare."
the witch pretended to be much astonished at his request, and said that he deserved something much better than the foal, for the beast was lazy and nervous, blind in one eye, and, in short, was quite worthless.
but the prince knew what he wanted, and when the old witch saw that he had made up his mind to have the foal, she said," i am obliged to keep my promise and to hand you over the foal; and as i know who you are and what you want, i will tell you in what way the animal will be useful to you.
the man in the cauldron of boiling pitch, whom you set free, is a mighty magician; through your curiosity and thoughtlessness militza came into his power, and he has transported her and her castle and belongings into a distant country.
"you are the only person who can kill him; and in consequence he fears you to such an extent that he has set spies to watch you, and they report your movements to him daily.
"when you have reached him, beware of speaking a single word to him, or you will fall into the power of his friends.
seize him at once by the beard and dash him to the ground."
iwanich thanked the old witch, mounted his foal, put spurs to its sides, and they flew like lightning through the air.
already it was growing dark, when iwanich perceived some figures in the distance; they soon came up to them, and then the prince saw that it was the magician and his friends who were driving through the air in a carriage drawn by owls.
when the magician found himself face to face with iwanich, without hope of escape, he turned to him with false friendliness and said: "thrice my kind benefactor!"
but the prince, without saying a word, seized him at once by his beard and dashed him to the ground.
at the same moment the foal sprang on the top of the magician and kicked and stamped on him with his hoofs till he died.
then iwanich found himself once more in the palace of his bride, and militza herself flew into his arms.
from this time forward they lived in undisturbed peace and happiness till the end of their lives.
the magic ring once upon a time there lived an old couple who had one son called martin.
now when the old man's time had come, he stretched himself out on his bed and died.
though all his life long he had toiled and moiled, he only left his widow and son two hundred florins.
the old woman determined to put by the money for a rainy day; but alas!
the rainy day was close at hand, for their meal was all consumed, and who is prepared to face starvation with two hundred florins at their disposal?
so the old woman counted out a hundred of her florins, and giving them to martin, told him to go into the town and lay in a store of meal for a year.
so martin started off for the town.
when he reached the meat-market he found the whole place in turmoil, and a great noise of angry voices and barking of dogs.
mixing in the crowd, he noticed a stag-hound which the butchers had caught and tied to a post, and which was being flogged in a merciless manner.
overcome with pity, martin spoke to the butchers, saying: "friends, why are you beating the poor dog so cruelly?"
"we have every right to beat him," they replied; "he has just devoured a newly-killed pig."
"leave off beating him," said martin, "and sell him to me instead."
"if you choose to buy him," answered the butchers derisively; "but for such a treasure we wo n't take a penny less than a hundred florins.'"
a hundred!"
exclaimed martin.
"well, so be it, if you will not take less;" and, taking the money out of his pocket, he handed it over in exchange for the dog, whose name was schurka.
when martin got home, his mother met him with the question: "well, what have you bought?"
"schurka, the dog," replied martin, pointing to his new possession.
whereupon his mother became very angry, and abused him roundly.
he ought to be ashamed of himself, when there was scarcely a handful of meal in the house, to have spent the money on a useless brute like that.
on the following day she sent him back to the town, saying, "here, take our last hundred florins, and buy provisions with them.
i have just emptied the last grains of meal out of the chest, and baked a bannock; but it wo n't last over to-morrow."
just as martin was entering the town he met a rough-looking peasant who was dragging a cat after him by a string which was fastened round the poor beast's neck.
"stop," cried martin; "where are you dragging that poor cat?'"
i mean to drown him," was the answer.
"what harm has the poor beast done?"
said martin.
"it has just killed a goose," replied the peasant.
"do n't drown him, sell him to me instead," begged martin.
"not for a hundred florins," was the answer.
"surely for a hundred florins you'll sell it?"
said martin.
"see!
here is the money;" and, so saying, he handed him the hundred florins, which the peasant pocketed, and martin took possession of the cat, which was called waska.
when he reached his home his mother greeted him with the question: "well, what have you brought back?'"
i have brought this cat, waska," answered martin.
"and what besides?'"
i had no money over to buy anything else with," replied martin.
"you useless ne'er - do-weel!"
exclaimed his mother in a great passion.
"leave the house at once, and go and beg your bread among strangers;" and as martin did not dare to contradict her, he called schurka and waska and started off with them to the nearest village in search of work.
on the way he met a rich peasant, who asked him where he was going."
i want to get work as a day labourer," he answered.
"come along with me, then.
but i must tell you i engage my labourers without wages.
if you serve me faithfully for a year, i promise you it shall be for your advantage."
so martin consented, and for a year he worked diligently, and served his master faithfully, not sparing himself in any way.
when the day of reckoning had come the peasant led him into a barn, and pointing to two full sacks, said: "take whichever of these you choose."
martin examined the contents of the sacks, and seeing that one was full of silver and the other of sand, he said to himself: "there must be some trick about this; i had better take the sand."
and throwing the sack over his shoulders he started out into the world, in search of fresh work.
on and on he walked, and at last he reached a great gloomy wood.
in the middle of the wood he came upon a meadow, where a fire was burning, and in the midst of the fire, surrounded by flames, was a lovely damsel, more beautiful than anything that martin had ever seen, and when she saw him she called to him: "martin, if you would win happiness, save my life.
extinguish the flames with the sand that you earned in payment of your faithful service."
"truly," thought martin to himself, "it would be more sensible to save a fellow-being's life with this sand than to drag it about on one's back, seeing what a weight it is."
and forthwith he lowered the sack from his shoulders and emptied its contents on the flames, and instantly the fire was extinguished; but at the same moment lo!
and behold the lovely damsel turned into a serpent, and, darting upon him, coiled itself round his neck, and whispered lovingly in his ear: "do not be afraid of me, martin; i love you, and will go with you through the world.
but first you must follow me boldly into my father's kingdom, underneath the earth; and when we get there, remember this -- he will offer you gold and silver, and dazzling gems, but do not touch them.
ask him, instead, for the ring which he wears on his little finger, for in that ring lies a magic power; you have only to throw it from one hand to the other, and at once twelve young men will appear, who will do your bidding, no matter how difficult, in a single night."
so they started on their way, and after much wandering they reached a spot where a great rock rose straight up in the middle of the road.
instantly the serpent uncoiled itself from his neck, and, as it touched the damp earth, it resumed the shape of the lovely damsel.
pointing to the rock, she showed him an opening just big enough for a man to wriggle through.
passing into it, they entered a long underground passage, which led out on to a wide field, above which spread a blue sky.
in the middle of the field stood a magnificent castle, built out of porphyry, with a roof of gold and with glittering battlements.
and his beautiful guide told him that this was the palace in which her father lived and reigned over his kingdom in the under-world.
together they entered the palace, and were received by the king with great kindness.
turning to his daughter, he said: "my child, i had almost given up the hope of ever seeing you again.
where have you been all these years?"
"my father," she replied," i owe my life to this youth, who saved me from a terrible death."
upon which the king turned to martin with a gracious smile, saying: "i will reward your courage by granting you whatever your heart desires.
take as much gold, silver, and precious stones as you choose.'"
i thank you, mighty king, for your gracious offer," answered martin," "but i do not covet either gold, silver, or precious stones; yet if you will grant me a favour, give me, i beg, the ring from off the little finger of your royal hand.
every time my eye falls on it i shall think of your gracious majesty, and when i marry i shall present it to my bride."
so the king took the ring from his finger and gave it to martin, saying: "take it, good youth; but with it i make one condition -- you are never to confide to anyone that this is a magic ring.
if you do, you will straightway bring misfortune on yourself."
martin took the ring, and, having thanked the king, he set out on the same road by which he had come down into the under-world.
when he had regained the upper air he started for his old home, and having found his mother still living in the old house where he had left her, they settled down together very happily.
so uneventful was their life that it almost seemed as if it would go on in this way always, without let or hindrance.
but one day it suddenly came into his mind that he would like to get married, and, moreover, that he would choose a very grand wife -- a king's daughter, in short.
but as he did not trust himself as a wooer, he determined to send his old mother on the mission.
"you must go to the king," he said to her, "and demand the hand of his lovely daughter in marriage for me."
"what are you thinking of, my son?"
answered the old woman, aghast at the idea.
"why can not you marry someone in your own rank?
that would be far more fitting than to send a poor old woman like me a-wooing to the king's court for the hand of a princess.
why, it is as much as our heads are worth.
neither my life nor yours would be worth anything if i went on such a fool's errand."
"never fear, little mother," answered martin.
"trust me; all will be well.
but see that you do not come back without an answer of some kind."
and so, obedient to her son's behest, the old woman hobbled off to the palace, and, without being hindered, reached the courtyard, and began to mount the flight of steps leading to the royal presence chamber.
at the head of the landing rows of courtiers were collected in magnificent attire, who stared at the queer old figure, and called to her, and explained to her, with every kind of sign, that it was strictly forbidden to mount those steps.
but their stern words and forbidding gestures made no impression whatever on the old woman, and she resolutely continued to climb the stairs, bent on carrying out her son's orders.
upon this some of the courtiers seized her by the arms, and held her back by sheer force, at which she set up such a yell that the king himself heard it, and stepped out on to the balcony to see what was the matter.
when he beheld the old woman flinging her arms wildly about, and heard her scream that she would not leave the place till she had laid her case before the king, he ordered that she should be brought into his presence.
and forthwith she was conducted into the golden presence chamber, where, leaning back amongst cushions of royal purple, the king sat, surrounded by his counsellors and courtiers.
courtesying low, the old woman stood silent before him.
"well, my good old dame, what can i do for you?"
asked the king."
i have come," replied martin's mother -- "and your majesty must not be angry with me -- i have come a-wooing."
"is the woman out of her mind?"
said the king, with an angry frown.
but martin's mother answered boldly: "if the king will only listen patiently to me, and give me a straightforward answer, he will see that i am not out of my mind.
you, o king, have a lovely daughter to give in marriage.
i have a son -- a wooer -- as clever a youth and as good a son-in-law as you will find in your whole kingdom.
there is nothing that he can not do.
now tell me, o king, plump and plain, will you give your daughter to my son as wife?"
the king listened to the end of the old woman's strange request, but every moment his face grew blacker, and his features sterner; till all at once he thought to himself, "is it worth while that i, the king, should be angry with this poor old fool?"
and all the courtiers and counsellors were amazed when they saw the hard lines round his mouth and the frown on his brow grow smooth, and heard the mild but mocking tones in which he answered the old woman, saying: "if your son is as wonderfully clever as you say, and if there is nothing in the world that he can not do, let him build a magnificent castle, just opposite my palace windows, in four and twenty hours.
the palace must be joined together by a bridge of pure crystal.
on each side of the bridge there must be growing trees, having golden and silver apples, and with birds of paradise among the branches.
at the right of the bridge there must be a church, with five golden cupolas; in this church your son shall be wedded to my daughter, and we will keep the wedding festivities in the new castle.
but if he fails to execute this my royal command, then, as a just but mild monarch, i shall give orders that you and he are taken, and first dipped in tar and then in feathers, and you shall be executed in the market-place for the entertainment of my courtiers."
and a smile played round the king's lips as he finished speaking, and his courtiers and counsellors shook with laughter when they thought of the old woman's folly, and praised the king's wise device, and said to each other, "what a joke it will be when we see the pair of them tarred and feathered!
the son is just as able to grow a beard on the palm of his hand as to execute such a task in twenty-four hours."
now the poor old woman was mortally afraid and, in a trembling voice she asked: "is that really your royal will, o king?
must i take this order to my poor son?"
"yes, old dame; such is my command.
if your son carries out my order, he shall be rewarded with my daughter; but if he fails, away to the tar-barrel and the stake with you both!"
on her way home the poor old woman shed bitter tears, and when she saw martin she told him what the king had said, and sobbed out: "did n't i tell you, my son, that you should marry someone of your own rank?
it would have been better for us this day if you had.
as i told you, my going to court has been as much as our lives are worth, and now we will both be tarred and feathered, and burnt in the public market-place.
it is terrible!"
and she moaned and cried.
"never fear, little mother," answered martin; "trust me, and you will see all will be well.
you may go to sleep with a quiet mind."
and, stepping to the front of the hut, martin threw his ring from the palm of one hand into the other, upon which twelve youths instantly appeared, and demanded what he wanted them to do.
then he told them the king's commands, and they answered that by next morning all should be accomplished exactly as the king had ordered.
next morning when the king awoke, and looked out of his window, to his amazement he beheld a magnificent castle, just opposite his own palace, and joined to it a bridge of pure crystal.
at each side of the bridge trees were growing, from whose branches hung golden and silver apples, among which birds of paradise perched.
at the right, gleaming in the sun, were the five golden cupolas of a splendid church, whose bells rang out, as if they would summon people from all corners of the earth to come and behold the wonder.
now, though the king would much rather have seen his future son-in-law tarred, feathered, and burnt at the stake, he remembered his royal oath, and had to make the best of a bad business.
so he took heart of grace, and made martin a duke, and gave his daughter a rich dowry, and prepared the grandest wedding-feast that had ever been seen, so that to this day the old people in the country still talk of it.
after the wedding martin and his royal bride went to dwell in the magnificent new palace, and here martin lived in the greatest comfort and luxury, such luxury as he had never imagined.
but though he was as happy as the day was long, and as merry as a grig, the king's daughter fretted all day, thinking of the indignity that had been done her in making her marry martin, the poor widow's son, instead of a rich young prince from a foreign country.
so unhappy was she that she spent all her time wondering how she should get rid of her undesirable husband.
and first she determined to learn the secret of his power, and, with flattering, caressing words, she tried to coax him to tell her how he was so clever that there was nothing in the world that he could not do.
at first he would tell her nothing; but once, when he was in a yielding mood, she approached him with a winning smile on her lovely face, and, speaking flattering words to him, she gave him a potion to drink, with a sweet, strong taste.
and when he had drunk it martin's lips were unsealed, and he told her that all his power lay in the magic ring that he wore on his finger, and he described to her how to use it, and, still speaking, he fell into a deep sleep.
and when she saw that the potion had worked, and that he was sound asleep, the princess took the magic ring from his finger, and, going into the courtyard, she threw it from the palm of one hand into the other.
on the instant the twelve youths appeared, and asked her what she commanded them to do.
then she told them that by the next morning they were to do away with the castle, and the bridge, and the church, and put in their stead the humble hut in which martin used to live with his mother, and that while he slept her husband was to be carried to his old lowly room; and that they were to bear her away to the utmost ends of the earth, where an old king lived who would make her welcome in his palace, and surround her with the state that befitted a royal princess.
"you shall be obeyed," answered the twelve youths at the same moment.
and lo and behold!
the following morning, when the king awoke and looked out of his window he beheld to his amazement that the palace, bridge, church, and trees had all vanished, and there was nothing in their place but a bare, miserable-looking hut.
immediately the king sent for his son-in-law, and commanded him to explain what had happened.
but martin looked at his royal father-in-law, and answered never a word.
then the king was very angry, and, calling a council together, he charged martin with having been guilty of witchcraft, and of having deceived the king, and having made away with the princess; and he was condemned to imprisonment in a high stone tower, with neither meat nor drink, till he should die of starvation.
then, in the hour of his dire necessity, his old friends schurka -lrb- the dog -rrb- and waska -lrb- the cat -rrb- remembered how martin had once saved them from a cruel death; and they took counsel together as to how they should help him.
and schurka growled, and was of opinion that he would like to tear everyone in pieces; but waska purred meditatively, and scratched the back of her ear with a velvet paw, and remained lost in thought.
at the end of a few minutes she had made up her mind, and, turning to schurka, said: "let us go together into the town, and the moment we meet a baker you must make a rush between his legs and upset the tray from off his head; i will lay hold of the rolls, and will carry them off to our master."
no sooner said than done.
together the two faithful creatures trotted off into the town, and very soon they met a baker bearing a tray on his head, and looking round on all sides, while he cried: "fresh rolls, sweet cake, fancy bread of every kind.
come and buy, come and take, sure you'll find it to your mind," at that moment schurka made a rush between his legs -- the baker stumbled, the tray was upset, the rolls fell to the ground, and, while the man angrily pursued schurka, waska managed to drag the rolls out of sight behind a bush.
and when a moment later schurka joined her, they set off at full tilt to the stone tower where martin was a prisoner, taking the rolls with them.
waska, being very agile, climbed up by the outside to the grated window, and called in an anxious voice: "are you alive, master?"
"scarcely alive -- almost starved to death," answered martin in a weak voice."
i little thought it would come to this, that i should die of hunger."
"never fear, dear master.
schurka and i will look after you," said waska.
and in another moment she had climbed down and brought him back a roll, and then another, and another, till she had brought him the whole tray-load.
upon which she said: "dear master, schurka and i are going off to a distant kingdom at the utmost ends of the earth to fetch you back your magic ring.
you must be careful that the rolls last till our return."
and waska took leave of her beloved master, and set off with schurka on their journey.
on and on they travelled, looking always to right and left for traces of the princess, following up every track, making inquiries of every cat and dog they met, listening to the talk of every wayfarer they passed; and at last they heard that the kingdom at the utmost ends of the earth where the twelve youths had borne the princess was not very far off.
and at last one day they reached that distant kingdom, and, going at once to the palace, they began to make friends with all the dogs and cats in the place, and to question them about the princess and the magic ring; but no one could tell them much about either.
now one day it chanced that waska had gone down to the palace cellar to hunt for mice and rats, and seeing an especially fat, well-fed mouse, she pounced upon it, buried her claws in its soft fur, and was just going to gobble it up, when she was stopped by the pleading tones of the little creature, saying, "if you will only spare my life i may be of great service to you.
i will do everything in my power for you; for i am the king of the mice, and if i perish the whole race will die out."
"so be it," said waska."
i will spare your life; but in return you must do something for me.
in this castle there lives a princess, the wicked wife of my dear master.
she has stolen away his magic ring.
you must get it away from her at whatever cost; do you hear?
till you have done this i wo n't take my claws out of your fur."
"good!"
replied the mouse;" i will do what you ask."
and, so saying, he summoned all the mice in his kingdom together.
a countless number of mice, small and big, brown and grey, assembled, and formed a circle round their king, who was a prisoner under waska's claws.
turning to them he said: "dear and faithful subjects, who ever among you will steal the magic ring from the strange princess will release me from a cruel death; and i shall honour him above all the other mice in the kingdom."
instantly a tiny mouse stepped forward and said: "i often creep about the princess's bedroom at night, and i have noticed that she has a ring which she treasures as the apple of her eye.
all day she wears it on her finger, and at night she keeps it in her mouth.
i will undertake, sire, to steal away the ring for you."
and the tiny mouse tripped away into the bedroom of the princess, and waited for nightfall; then, when the princess had fallen asleep, it crept up on to her bed, and gnawed a hole in the pillow, through which it dragged one by one little down feathers, and threw them under the princess's nose.
and the fluff flew into the princess's nose, and into her mouth, and starting up she sneezed and coughed, and the ring fell out of her mouth on to the coverlet.
in a flash the tiny mouse had seized it, and brought it to waska as a ransom for the king of the mice.
thereupon waska and schurka started off, and travelled night and day till they reached the stone tower where martin was imprisoned; and the cat climbed up the window, and called out to him: "martin, dear master, are you still alive?"
"ah!
waska, my faithful little cat, is that you?"
replied a weak voice."
i am dying of hunger.
for three days i have not tasted food."
"be of good heart, dear master," replied waska; "from this day forth you will know nothing but happiness and prosperity.
if this were a moment to trouble you with riddles, i would make you guess what schurka and i have brought you back.
only think, we have got you your ring!"
at these words martin's joy knew no bounds, and he stroked her fondly, and she rubbed up against him and purred happily, while below schurka bounded in the air, and barked joyfully.
then martin took the ring, and threw it from one hand into the other, and instantly the twelve youths appeared and asked what they were to do.
"fetch me first something to eat and drink, as quickly as possible; and after that bring musicians hither, and let us have music all day long."
now when the people in the town and palace heard music coming from the tower they were filled with amazement, and came to the king with the news that witchcraft must be going on in martin's tower, for, instead of dying of starvation, he was seemingly making merry to the sound of music, and to the clatter of plates, and glass, and knives and forks; and the music was so enchantingly sweet that all the passers-by stood still to listen to it.
on this the king sent at once a messenger to the starvation tower, and he was so astonished with what he saw that he remained rooted to the spot.
then the king sent his chief counsellors, and they too were transfixed with wonder.
at last the king came himself, and he likewise was spellbound by the beauty of the music.
then martin summoned the twelve youths, spoke to them, saying, "build up my castle again, and join it to the king's palace with a crystal bridge; do not forget the trees with the golden and silver apples, and with the birds of paradise in the branches; and put back the church with the five cupolas, and let the bells ring out, summoning the people from the four corners of the kingdom.
and one thing more: bring back my faithless wife, and lead her into the women's chamber."
and it was all done as he commanded, and, leaving the starvation tower, he took the king, his father-in-law, by the arm, and led him into the new palace, where the princess sat in fear and trembling, awaiting her death.
and martin spoke to the king, saying, "king and royal father, i have suffered much at the hands of your daughter.
what punishment shall be dealt to her?"
then the mild king answered: "beloved prince and son-in-law, if you love me, let your anger be turned to grace -- forgive my daughter, and restore her to your heart and favour."
and martin's heart was softened and he forgave his wife, and they lived happily together ever after.
and his old mother came and lived with him, and he never parted with schurka and waska; and i need hardly tell you that he never again let the ring out of his possession.
the flower queen's daughter -lrb- 23 -rrb- -lrb- 23 -rrb- from the bukowinaer.
von wliolocki.
a young prince was riding one day through a meadow that stretched for miles in front of him, when he came to a deep open ditch.
he was turning aside to avoid it, when he heard the sound of someone crying in the ditch.
he dismounted from his horse, and stepped along in the direction the sound came from.
to his astonishment he found an old woman, who begged him to help her out of the ditch.
the prince bent down and lifted her out of her living grave, asking her at the same time how she had managed to get there.
"my son," answered the old woman," i am a very poor woman, and soon after midnight i set out for the neighbouring town in order to sell my eggs in the market on the following morning; but i lost my way in the dark, and fell into this deep ditch, where i might have remained for ever but for your kindness."
then the prince said to her, "you can hardly walk; i will put you on my horse and lead you home.
where do you live?"
"over there, at the edge of the forest in the little hut you see in the distance," replied the old woman.
the prince lifted her on to his horse, and soon they reached the hut, where the old woman got down, and turning to the prince said, "just wait a moment, and i will give you something."
and she disappeared into her hut, but returned very soon and said, "you are a mighty prince, but at the same time you have a kind heart, which deserves to be rewarded.
would you like to have the most beautiful woman in the world for your wife?"
"most certainly i would," replied the prince.
so the old woman continued, "the most beautiful woman in the whole world is the daughter of the queen of the flowers, who has been captured by a dragon.
if you wish to marry her, you must first set her free, and this i will help you to do.
i will give you this little bell: if you ring it once, the king of the eagles will appear; if you ring it twice, the king of the foxes will come to you; and if you ring it three times, you will see the king of the fishes by your side.
these will help you if you are in any difficulty.
now farewell, and heaven prosper your undertaking."
she handed him the little bell, and there disappeared hut and all, as though the earth had swallowed her up.
then it dawned on the prince that he had been speaking to a good fairy, and putting the little bell carefully in his pocket, he rode home and told his father that he meant to set the daughter of the flower queen free, and intended setting out on the following day into the wide world in search of the maid.
so the next morning the prince mounted his fine horse and left his home.
he had roamed round the world for a whole year, and his horse had died of exhaustion, while he himself had suffered much from want and misery, but still he had come on no trace of her he was in search of.
at last one day he came to a hut, in front of which sat a very old man.
the prince asked him, "do you not know where the dragon lives who keeps the daughter of the flower queen prisoner?"
"no, i do not," answered the old man.
"but if you go straight along this road for a year, you will reach a hut where my father lives, and possibly he may be able to tell you."
the prince thanked him for his information, and continued his journey for a whole year along the same road, and at the end of it came to the little hut, where he found a very old man.
he asked him the same question, and the old man answered, "no, i do not know where the dragon lives.
but go straight along this road for another year, and you will come to a hut in which my father lives.
i know he can tell you."
and so the prince wandered on for another year, always on the same road, and at last reached the hut where he found the third old man.
he put the same question to him as he had put to his son and grandson; but this time the old man answered, "the dragon lives up there on the mountain, and he has just begun his year of sleep.
for one whole year he is always awake, and the next he sleeps.
but if you wish to see the flower queen's daughter go up the second mountain: the dragon's old mother lives there, and she has a ball every night, to which the flower queen's daughter goes regularly."
so the prince went up the second mountain, where he found a castle all made of gold with diamond windows.
he opened the big gate leading into the courtyard, and was just going to walk in, when seven dragons rushed on him and asked him what he wanted?
the prince replied," i have heard so much of the beauty and kindness of the dragon's mother, and would like to enter her service."
this flattering speech pleased the dragons, and the eldest of them said, "well, you may come with me, and i will take you to the mother dragon."
they entered the castle and walked through twelve splendid halls, all made of gold and diamonds.
in the twelfth room they found the mother dragon seated on a diamond throne.
she was the ugliest woman under the sun, and, added to it all, she had three heads.
her appearance was a great shock to the prince, and so was her voice, which was like the croaking of many ravens.
she asked him, "why have you come here?"
the prince answered at once," i have heard so much of your beauty and kindness, that i would very much like to enter your service."
"very well," said the mother dragon; "but if you wish to enter my service, you must first lead my mare out to the meadow and look after her for three days; but if you do n't bring her home safely every evening, we will eat you up."
the prince undertook the task and led the mare out to the meadow.
but no sooner had they reached the grass than she vanished.
the prince sought for her in vain, and at last in despair sat down on a big stone and contemplated his sad fate.
as he sat thus lost in thought, he noticed an eagle flying over his head.
then he suddenly bethought him of his little bell, and taking it out of his pocket he rang it once.
in a moment he heard a rustling sound in the air beside him, and the king of the eagles sank at his feet."
i know what you want of me," the bird said.
"you are looking for the mother dragon's mare who is galloping about among the clouds.
i will summon all the eagles of the air together, and order them to catch the mare and bring her to you."
and with these words the king of the eagles flew away.
towards evening the prince heard a mighty rushing sound in the air, and when he looked up he saw thousands of eagles driving the mare before them.
they sank at his feet on to the ground and gave the mare over to him.
then the prince rode home to the old mother dragon, who was full of wonder when she saw him, and said, "you have succeeded to-day in looking after my mare, and as a reward you shall come to my ball to-night."
she gave him at the same time a cloak made of copper, and led him to a big room where several young he-dragons and she-dragons were dancing together.
here, too, was the flower queen's beautiful daughter.
her dress was woven out of the most lovely flowers in the world, and her complexion was like lilies and roses.
as the prince was dancing with her he managed to whisper in her ear," i have come to set you free!"
then the beautiful girl said to him, "if you succeed in bringing the mare back safely the third day, ask the mother dragon to give you a foal of the mare as a reward."
the ball came to an end at midnight, and early next morning the prince again led the mother dragon's mare out into the meadow.
but again she vanished before his eyes.
then he took out his little bell and rang it twice.
in a moment the king of the foxes stood before him and said: "i know already what you want, and will summon all the foxes of the world together to find the mare who has hidden herself in a hill."
with these words the king of the foxes disappeared, and in the evening many thousand foxes brought the mare to the prince.
then he rode home to the mother-dragon, from whom he received this time a cloak made of silver, and again she led him to the ball-room.
the flower queen's daughter was delighted to see him safe and sound, and when they were dancing together she whispered in his ear: "if you succeed again to-morrow, wait for me with the foal in the meadow.
after the ball we will fly away together."
on the third day the prince led the mare to the meadow again; but once more she vanished before his eyes.
then the prince took out his little bell and rang it three times.
in a moment the king of the fishes appeared, and said to him: "i know quite well what you want me to do, and i will summon all the fishes of the sea together, and tell them to bring you back the mare, who is hiding herself in a river."
towards evening the mare was returned to him, and when he led her home to the mother dragon she said to him: "you are a brave youth, and i will make you my body-servant.
but what shall i give you as a reward to begin with?"
the prince begged for a foal of the mare, which the mother dragon at once gave him, and over and above, a cloak made of gold, for she had fallen in love with him because he had praised her beauty.
so in the evening he appeared at the ball in his golden cloak; but before the entertainment was over he slipped away, and went straight to the stables, where he mounted his foal and rode out into the meadow to wait for the flower queen's daughter.
towards midnight the beautiful girl appeared, and placing her in front of him on his horse, the prince and she flew like the wind till they reached the flower queen's dwelling.
but the dragons had noticed their flight, and woke their brother out of his year's sleep.
he flew into a terrible rage when he heard what had happened, and determined to lay siege to the flower queen's palace; but the queen caused a forest of flowers as high as the sky to grow up round her dwelling, through which no one could force a way.
when the flower queen heard that her daughter wanted to marry the prince, she said to him: "i will give my consent to your marriage gladly, but my daughter can only stay with you in summer.
in winter, when everything is dead and the ground covered with snow, she must come and live with me in my palace underground."
the prince consented to this, and led his beautiful bride home, where the wedding was held with great pomp and magnificence.
the young couple lived happily together till winter came, when the flower queen's daughter departed and went home to her mother.
in summer she returned to her husband, and their life of joy and happiness began again, and lasted till the approach of winter, when the flower queen's daughter went back again to her mother.
this coming and going continued all her life long, and in spite of it they always lived happily together.
the flying ship -lrb- 24 -rrb- -lrb- 24 -rrb- from the russian.
once upon a time there lived an old couple who had three sons; the two elder were clever, but the third was a regular dunce.
the clever sons were very fond of their mother, gave her good clothes, and always spoke pleasantly to her; but the youngest was always getting in her way, and she had no patience with him.
now, one day it was announced in the village that the king had issued a decree, offering his daughter, the princess, in marriage to whoever should build a ship that could fly.
immediately the two elder brothers determined to try their luck, and asked their parents" blessing.
so the old mother smartened up their clothes, and gave them a store of provisions for their journey, not forgetting to add a bottle of brandy.
when they had gone the poor simpleton began to tease his mother to smarten him up and let him start off.
"what would become of a dolt like you?"
she answered.
"why, you would be eaten up by wolves."
but the foolish youth kept repeating," i will go, i will go, i will go!"
seeing that she could do nothing with him, the mother gave him a crust of bread and a bottle of water, and took no further heed of him.
so the simpleton set off on his way.
when he had gone a short distance he met a little old manikin.
they greeted one another, and the manikin asked him where he was going."
i am off to the king's court," he answered.
"he has promised to give his daughter to whoever can make a flying ship."
"and can you make such a ship?"
"not i." "then why in the world are you going?"
"ca n't tell," replied the simpleton.
"well, if that is the case," said the manikin, "sit down beside me; we can rest for a little and have something to eat.
give me what you have got in your satchel."
now, the poor simpleton was ashamed to show what was in it.
however, he thought it best not to make a fuss, so he opened the satchel, and could scarcely believe his own eyes, for, instead of the hard crust, he saw two beautiful fresh rolls and some cold meat.
he shared them with the manikin, who licked his lips and said: "now, go into that wood, and stop in front of the first tree, bow three times, and then strike the tree with your axe, fall on your knees on the ground, with your face on the earth, and remain there till you are raised up.
you will then find a ship at your side, step into it and fly to the king's palace.
if you meet anyone on the way, take him with you."
the simpleton thanked the manikin very kindly, bade him farewell, and went into the road.
when he got to the first tree he stopped in front of it, did everything just as he had been told, and, kneeling on the ground with his face to the earth, fell asleep.
after a little time he was aroused; he awoke and, rubbing his eyes, saw a ready-made ship at his side, and at once got into it.
and the ship rose and rose, and in another minute was flying through the air, when the simpleton, who was on the look out, cast his eyes down to the earth and saw a man beneath him on the road, who was kneeling with his ear upon the damp ground.
"hallo!"
he called out, "what are you doing down there?'"
i am listening to what is going on in the world," replied the man.
"come with me in my ship," said the simpleton.
so the man was only too glad, and got in beside him; and the ship flew, and flew, and flew through the air, till again from his outlook the simpleton saw a man on the road below, who was hopping on one leg, while his other leg was tied up behind his ear.
so he hailed him, calling out: "hallo!
what are you doing, hopping on one leg?'"
i ca n't help it," replied the man."
i walk so fast that unless i tied up one leg i should be at the end of the earth in a bound."
"come with us on my ship," he answered; and the man made no objections, but joined them; and the ship flew on, and on, and on, till suddenly the simpleton, looking down on the road below, beheld a man aiming with a gun into the distance.
"hallo!"
he shouted to him, "what are you aiming at?
as far as eye can see, there is no bird in sight."
"what would be the good of my taking a near shot?"
replied the man;" i can hit beast or bird at a hundred miles" distance.
that is the kind of shot i enjoy."
"come into the ship with us," answered the simpleton; and the man was only too glad to join them, and he got in; and the ship flew on, farther and farther, till again the simpleton from his outlook saw a man on the road below, carrying on his back a basket full of bread.
and he waved to him, calling out: "hallo!
where are you going?"
"to fetch bread for my breakfast."
"bread?
why, you have got a whole basket-load of it on your back."
"that's nothing," answered the man;" i should finish that in one mouthful."
"come along with us in my ship, then."
and so the glutton joined the party, and the ship mounted again into the air, and flew up and onward, till the simpleton from his outlook saw a man walking by the shore of a great lake, and evidently looking for something.
"hallo!"
he cried to him," what are you seeking?"
i want water to drink, i'm so thirsty," replied the man.
"well, there's a whole lake in front of you; why do n't you drink some of that?"
"do you call that enough?"
answered the other.
"why, i should drink it up in one gulp."
"well, come with us in the ship."
and so the mighty drinker was added to the company; and the ship flew farther, and even farther, till again the simpleton looked out, and this time he saw a man dragging a bundle of wood, walking through the forest beneath them.
"hallo!"
he shouted to him, "why are you carrying wood through a forest?"
"this is not common wood," answered the other.
"what sort of wood is it, then?"
said the simpleton.
"if you throw it upon the ground," said the man, "it will be changed into an army of soldiers."
"come into the ship with us, then."
and so he too joined them; and away the ship flew on, and on, and on, and once more the simpleton looked out, and this time he saw a man carrying straw upon his back.
"hallo!
where are you carrying that straw to?"
"to the village," said the man.
"do you mean to say there is no straw in the village?"
"ah!
but this is quite a peculiar straw.
if you strew it about even in the hottest summer the air at once becomes cold, and snow falls, and the people freeze."
then the simpleton asked him also to join them.
at last the ship, with its strange crew, arrived at the king's court.
the king was having his dinner, but he at once despatched one of his courtiers to find out what the huge, strange new bird could be that had come flying through the air.
the courtier peeped into the ship, and, seeing what it was, instantly went back to the king and told him that it was a flying ship, and that it was manned by a few peasants.
then the king remembered his royal oath; but he made up his mind that he would never consent to let the princess marry a poor peasant.
so he thought and thought, and then said to himself: "i will give him some impossible tasks to perform; that will be the best way of getting rid of him."
and he there and then decided to despatch one of his courtiers to the simpleton, with the command that he was to fetch the king the healing water from the world's end before he had finished his dinner.
but while the king was still instructing the courtier exactly what he was to say, the first man of the ship's company, the one with the miraculous power of hearing, had overheard the king's words, and hastily reported them to the poor simpleton.
"alas, alas!"
he cried; "what am i to do now?
it would take me quite a year, possibly my whole life, to find the water."
"never fear," said his fleet-footed comrade," i will fetch what the king wants."
just then the courtier arrived, bearing the king's command.
"tell his majesty," said the simpleton, "that his orders shall be obeyed; "and forthwith the swift runner unbound the foot that was strung up behind his ear and started off, and in less than no time had reached the world's end and drawn the healing water from the well.
"dear me," he thought to himself, "that's rather tiring!
i'll just rest for a few minutes; it will be some little time yet before the king has got to dessert."
so he threw himself down on the grass, and, as the sun was very dazzling, he closed his eyes, and in a few seconds had fallen sound asleep.
in the meantime all the ship's crew were anxiously awaiting him; the king's dinner would soon be finished, and their comrade had not yet returned.
so the man with the marvellous quick hearing lay down and, putting his ear to the ground, listened.
"that's a nice sort of fellow!"
he suddenly exclaimed.
"he's lying on the ground, snoring hard!"
at this the marksman seized his gun, took aim, and fired in the direction of the world's end, in order to awaken the sluggard.
and a moment later the swift runner reappeared, and, stepping on board the ship, handed the healing water to the simpleton.
so while the king was still sitting at table finishing his dinner news was brought to him that his orders had been obeyed to the letter.
what was to be done now?
the king determined to think of a still more impossible task.
so he told another courtier to go to the simpleton with the command that he and his comrades were instantly to eat up twelve oxen and twelve tons of bread.
once more the sharp-eared comrade overheard the king's words while he was still talking to the courtier, and reported them to the simpleton.
"alas, alas!"
he sighed; "what in the world shall i do?
why, it would take us a year, possibly our whole lives, to eat up twelve oxen and twelve tons of bread."
"never fear," said the glutton.
"it will scarcely be enough for me, i'm so hungry."
so when the courtier arrived with the royal message he was told to take back word to the king that his orders should be obeyed.
then twelve roasted oxen and twelve tons of bread were brought alongside of the ship, and at one sitting the glutton had devoured it all."
i call that a small meal," he said."
i wish they'd brought me some more."
next, the king ordered that forty casks of wine, containing forty gallons each, were to be drunk up on the spot by the simpleton and his party.
when these words were overheard by the sharp-eared comrade and repeated to the simpleton, he was in despair.
"alas, alas!"
he exclaimed; "what is to be done?
it would take us a year, possibly our whole lives, to drink so much."
"never fear," said his thirsty comrade.
"i'll drink it all up at a gulp, see if i do n't."
and sure enough, when the forty casks of wine containing forty gallons each were brought alongside of the ship, they disappeared down the thirsty comrade's throat in no time; and when they were empty he remarked: "why, i'm still thirsty.
i should have been glad of two more casks."
then the king took counsel with himself and sent an order to the simpleton that he was to have a bath, in a bath-room at the royal palace, and after that the betrothal should take place.
now the bath-room was built of iron, and the king gave orders that it was to be heated to such a pitch that it would suffocate the simpleton.
and so when the poor silly youth entered the room, he discovered that the iron walls were red hot.
but, fortunately, his comrade with the straw on his back had entered behind him, and when the door was shut upon them he scattered the straw about, and suddenly the red-hot walls cooled down, and it became so very cold that the simpleton could scarcely bear to take a bath, and all the water in the room froze.
so the simpleton climbed up upon the stove, and, wrapping himself up in the bath blankets, lay there the whole night.
and in the morning when they opened the door there he lay sound and safe, singing cheerfully to himself.
now when this strange tale was told to the king he became quite sad, not knowing what he should do to get rid of so undesirable a son-in-law, when suddenly a brilliant idea occurred to him.
"tell the rascal to raise me an army, now at this instant!"
he exclaimed to one of his courtiers.
"inform him at once of this, my royal will."
and to himself he added," i think i shall do for him this time."
as on former occasions, the quick-eared comrade had overheard the king's command and repeated it to the simpleton.
"alas, alas!"
he groaned; "now i am quite done for."
"not at all," replied one of his comrades -lrb- the one who had dragged the bundle of wood through the forest -rrb-.
"have you quite forgotten me?"
in the meantime the courtier, who had run all the way from the palace, reached the ship panting and breathless, and delivered the king's message.
"good!"
remarked the simpleton."
i will raise an army for the king," and he drew himself up.
"but if, after that, the king refuses to accept me as his son-in-law, i will wage war against him, and carry the princess off by force."
during the night the simpleton and his comrade went, together into a big field, not forgetting to take the bundle of wood with them, which the man spread out in all directions -- and in a moment a mighty army stood upon the spot, regiment on regiment of foot and horse soldiers; the bugles sounded and the drums beat, the chargers neighed, and their riders put their lances in rest, and the soldiers presented arms.
in the morning when the king awoke he was startled by these warlike sounds, the bugles and the drums, and the clatter of the horses, and the shouts of the soldiers.
and, stepping to the window, he saw the lances gleam in the sunlight and the armour and weapons glitter.
and the proud monarch said to himself," i am powerless in comparison with this man."
so he sent him royal robes and costly jewels, and commanded him to come to the palace to be married to the princess.
and his son-in-law put on the royal robes, and he looked so grand and stately that it was impossible to recognise the poor simpleton, so changed was he; and the princess fell in love with him as soon as ever she saw him.
never before had so grand a wedding been seen, and there was so much food and wine that even the glutton and the thirsty comrade had enough to eat and drink.
the snow-daughter and the fire-son -lrb- 25 -rrb- -lrb- 25 -rrb- from the bukowinaer tales and legends.
von wliolocki.
there was once upon a time a man and his wife, and they had no children, which was a great grief to them.
one winter's day, when the sun was shining brightly, the couple were standing outside their cottage, and the woman was looking at all the little icicles which hung from the roof.
she sighed, and turning to her husband said," i wish i had as many children as there are icicles hanging there."
"nothing would please me more either," replied her husband.
then a tiny icicle detached itself from the roof, and dropped into the woman's mouth, who swallowed it with a smile, and said, "perhaps i shall give birth to a snow child now!"
her husband laughed at his wife's strange idea, and they went back into the house.
but after a short time the woman gave birth to a little girl, who was as white as snow and as cold as ice.
if they brought the child anywhere near the fire, it screamed loudly till they put it back into some cool place.
the little maid throve wonderfully, and in a few months she could run about and speak.
but she was not altogether easy to bring up, and gave her parents much trouble and anxiety, for all summer she insisted on spending in the cellar, and in the winter she would sleep outside in the snow, and the colder it was the happier she seemed to be.
her father and mother called her simply "our snow-daughter," and this name stuck to her all her life.
one day her parents sat by the fire, talking over the extraordinary behaviour of their daughter, who was disporting herself in the snowstorm that raged outside.
the woman sighed deeply and said," i wish i had given birth to a fire-son!"
as she said these words, a spark from the big wood fire flew into the woman's lap, and she said with a laugh, "now perhaps i shall give birth to a fire-son!"
the man laughed at his wife's words, and thought it was a good joke.
but he ceased to think it a joke when his wife shortly afterwards gave birth to a boy, who screamed lustily till he was put quite close to the fire, and who nearly yelled himself into a fit if the snow-daughter came anywhere near him.
the snow-daughter herself avoided him as much as she could, and always crept into a corner as far away from him as possible.
the parents called the boy simply "our fire-son," a name which stuck to him all his life.
they had a great deal of trouble and worry with him too; but he throve and grew very quickly, and before he was a year old he could run about and talk.
he was as red as fire, and as hot to touch, and he always sat on the hearth quite close to the fire, and complained of the cold; if his sister were in the room he almost crept into the flames, while the girl on her part always complained of the great heat if her brother were anywhere near.
in summer the boy always lay out in the sun, while the girl hid herself in the cellar: so it happened that the brother and sister came very little into contact with each other -- in fact, they carefully avoided it.
just as the girl grew up into a beautiful woman, her father and mother both died one after the other.
then the fire-son, who had grown up in the meantime into a fine, strong young man, said to his sister," i am going out into the world, for what is the use of remaining on here?'"
i shall go with you," she answered, "for, except you, i have no one in the world, and i have a feeling that if we set out together we shall be lucky."
the fire-son said," i love you with all my heart, but at the same time i always freeze if you are near me, and you nearly die of heat if i approach you!
how shall we travel about together without being odious the one to the other?"
"do n't worry about that," replied the girl, "for i've thought it all over, and have settled on a plan which will make us each able to bear with the other!
see, i have had a fur cloak made for each of us, and if we put them on i shall not feel the heat so much nor you the cold."
so they put on the fur cloaks, and set out cheerfully on their way, and for the first time in their lives quite happy in each other's company.
for a long time the fire-son and the snow-daughter wandered through the world, and when at the beginning of winter they came to a big wood they determined to stay there till spring.
the fire-son built himself a hut where he always kept up a huge fire, while his sister with very few clothes on stayed outside night and day.
now it happened one day that the king of the land held a hunt in this wood, and saw the snow-daughter wandering about in the open air.
he wondered very much who the beautiful girl clad in such garments could be, and he stopped and spoke to her.
he soon learnt that she could not stand heat, and that her brother could not endure cold.
the king was so charmed by the snow-daughter, that he asked her to be his wife.
the girl consented, and the wedding was held with much state.
the king had a huge house of ice made for his wife underground, so that even in summer it did not melt.
but for his brother-in-law he had a house built with huge ovens all round it, that were kept heated all day and night.
the fire-son was delighted, but the perpetual heat in which he lived made his body so hot, that it was dangerous to go too close to him.
one day the king gave a great feast, and asked his brother-in-law among the other guests.
the fire-son did not appear till everyone had assembled, and when he did, everyone fled outside to the open air, so intense was the heat he gave forth.
then the king was very angry and said, "if i had known what a lot of trouble you would have been, i would never have taken you into my house."
then the fire-son replied with a laugh, "do n't be angry, dear brother!
i love heat and my sister loves cold -- come here and let me embrace you, and then i'll go home at once."
and before the king had time to reply, the fire-son seized him in a tight embrace.
the king screamed aloud in agony, and when his wife, the snow-daughter, who had taken refuge from her brother in the next room, hurried to him, the king lay dead on the ground burnt to a cinder.
when the snow-daughter saw this she turned on her brother and flew at him.
then a fight began, the like of which had never been seen on earth.
when the people, attracted by the noise, hurried to the spot, they saw the snow-daughter melting into water and the fire-son burn to a cinder.
and so ended the unhappy brother and sister.
the story of king frost -lrb- 26 -rrb- -lrb- 26 -rrb- from the russian.
there was once upon a time a peasant-woman who had a daughter and a step-daughter.
the daughter had her own way in everything, and whatever she did was right in her mother's eyes; but the poor step-daughter had a hard time.
let her do what she would, she was always blamed, and got small thanks for all the trouble she took; nothing was right, everything wrong; and yet, if the truth were known, the girl was worth her weight in gold -- she was so unselfish and good-hearted.
but her step-mother did not like her, and the poor girl's days were spent in weeping; for it was impossible to live peacefully with the woman.
the wicked shrew was determined to get rid of the girl by fair means or foul, and kept saying to her father: "send her away, old man; send her away -- anywhere so that my eyes sha'n' t be plagued any longer by the sight of her, or my ears tormented by the sound of her voice.
send her out into the fields, and let the cutting frost do for her."
in vain did the poor old father weep and implore her pity; she was firm, and he dared not gainsay her.
so he placed his daughter in a sledge, not even daring to give her a horse-cloth to keep herself warm with, and drove her out on to the bare, open fields, where he kissed her and left her, driving home as fast as he could, that he might not witness her miserable death.
deserted by her father, the poor girl sat down under a fir-tree at the edge of the forest and began to weep silently.
suddenly she heard a faint sound: it was king frost springing from tree to tree, and cracking his fingers as he went.
at length he reached the fir-tree beneath which she was sitting, and with a crisp crackling sound he alighted beside her, and looked at her lovely face.
"well, maiden," he snapped out, "do you know who i am?
i am king frost, king of the red-noses."
"all hail to you, great king!"
answered the girl, in a gentle, trembling voice.
"have you come to take me?"
"are you warm, maiden?"
he replied.
"quite warm, king frost," she answered, though she shivered as she spoke.
then king frost stooped down, and bent over the girl, and the crackling sound grew louder, and the air seemed to be full of knives and darts; and again he asked: "maiden, are you warm?
are you warm, you beautiful girl?"
and though her breath was almost frozen on her lips, she whispered gently, "quite warm, king frost."
then king frost gnashed his teeth, and cracked his fingers, and his eyes sparkled, and the crackling, crisp sound was louder than ever, and for the last time he asked her: "maiden, are you still warm?
are you still warm, little love?"
and the poor girl was so stiff and numb that she could just gasp, "still warm, o king!"
now her gentle, courteous words and her uncomplaining ways touched king frost, and he had pity on her, and he wrapped her up in furs, and covered her with blankets, and he fetched a great box, in which were beautiful jewels and a rich robe embroidered in gold and silver.
and she put it on, and looked more lovely than ever, and king frost stepped with her into his sledge, with six white horses.
in the meantime the wicked step-mother was waiting at home for news of the girl's death, and preparing pancakes for the funeral feast.
and she said to her husband: "old man, you had better go out into the fields and find your daughter's body and bury her."
just as the old man was leaving the house the little dog under the table began to bark, saying: "your daughter shall live to be your delight; her daughter shall die this very night."
"hold your tongue, you foolish beast!"
scolded the woman.
"there's a pancake for you, but you must say: "her daughter shall have much silver and gold; his daughter is frozen quite stiff and cold.""
but the doggie ate up the pancake and barked, saying: "his daughter shall wear a crown on her head; her daughter shall die unwooed, unwed."
then the old woman tried to coax the doggie with more pancakes and to terrify it with blows, but he barked on, always repeating the same words.
and suddenly the door creaked and flew open, and a great heavy chest was pushed in, and behind it came the step-daughter, radiant and beautiful, in a dress all glittering with silver and gold.
for a moment the step-mother's eyes were dazzled.
then she called to her husband: "old man, yoke the horses at once into the sledge, and take my daughter to the same field and leave her on the same spot exactly; "and so the old man took the girl and left her beneath the same tree where he had parted from his daughter.
in a few minutes king frost came past, and, looking at the girl, he said: "are you warm, maiden?"
"what a blind old fool you must be to ask such a question!"
she answered angrily.
"ca n't you see that my hands and feet are nearly frozen?"
then king frost sprang to and fro in front of her, questioning her, and getting only rude, rough words in reply, till at last he got very angry, and cracked his fingers, and gnashed his teeth, and froze her to death.
but in the hut her mother was waiting for her return, and as she grew impatient she said to her husband: "get out the horses, old man, to go and fetch her home; but see that you are careful not to upset the sledge and lose the chest."
but the doggie beneath the table began to bark, saying: "your daughter is frozen quite stiff and cold, and shall never have a chest full of gold."
"do n't tell such wicked lies!"
scolded the woman.
"there's a cake for you; now say: "her daughter shall marry a mighty king."
at that moment the door flew open, and she rushed out to meet her daughter, and as she took her frozen body in her arms she too was chilled to death.
the death of the sun-hero -lrb- 27 -rrb- -lrb- 27 -rrb- from the bukowinaer tales and legends.
von wliolocki.
many, many thousand years ago there lived a mighty king whom heaven had blessed with a clever and beautiful son.
when he was only ten years old the boy was cleverer than all the king's counsellors put together, and when he was twenty he was the greatest hero in the whole kingdom.
his father could not make enough of his son, and always had him clothed in golden garments which shone and sparkled like the sun; and his mother gave him a white horse, which never slept, and which flew like the wind.
all the people in the land loved him dearly, and called him the sun-hero, for they did not think his like existed under the sun.
now it happened one night that both his parents had the same extraordinary dream.
they dreamt that a girl all dressed in red had come to them and said: "if you wish that your son should really become the sun-hero in deed and not only in name, let him go out into the world and search for the tree of the sun, and when he has found it, let him pluck a golden apple from it and bring it home."
when the king and queen had each related their dreams to the other, they were much amazed that they should both have dreamt exactly the same about their son, and the king said to his wife, "this is clearly a sign from heaven that we should send our son out into the world in order that he may come home the great sun-hero, as the red girl said, not only in name but in deed."
the queen consented with many tears, and the king at once bade his son set forth in search of the tree of the sun, from which he was to pluck a golden apple.
the prince was delighted at the prospect, and set out on his travels that very day.
for a long time he wandered all through the world, and it was not till the ninety-ninth day after he started that he found an old man who was able to tell him where the tree of the sun grew.
he followed his directions, and rode on his way, and after another ninety-nine days he arrived at a golden castle, which stood in the middle of a vast wilderness.
he knocked at the door, which was opened noiselessly and by invisible hands.
finding no one about, the prince rode on, and came to a great meadow, where the sun-tree grew.
when he reached the tree he put out his hand to pick a golden apple; but all of a sudden the tree grew higher, so that he could not reach its fruit.
then he heard some one behind him laughing.
turning round, he saw the girl in red walking towards him, who addressed him in these words: "do you really imagine, brave son of the earth, that you can pluck an apple so easily from the tree of the sun?
before you can do that, you have a difficult task before you.
you must guard the tree for nine days and nine nights from the ravages of two wild black wolves, who will try to harm it.
do you think you can undertake this?"
"yes," answered the sun-hero," i will guard the tree of the sun nine days and nine nights."
then the girl continued: "remember, though, if you do not succeed the sun will kill you.
now begin your watch."
with these words the red girl went back into the golden castle.
she had hardly left him when the two black wolves appeared: but the sun-hero beat them off with his sword, and they retired, only, however, to reappear in a very short time.
the sun-hero chased them away once more, but he had hardly sat down to rest when the two black wolves were on the scene again.
this went on for seven days and nights, when the white horse, who had never done such a thing before, turned to the sun-hero and said in a human voice: "listen to what i am going to say.
a fairy gave me to your mother in order that i might be of service to you; so let me tell you, that if you go to sleep and let the wolves harm the tree, the sun will surely kill you.
the fairy, foreseeing this, put everyone in the world under a spell, which prevents their obeying the sun's command to take your life.
but all the same, she has forgotten one person, who will certainly kill you if you fall asleep and let the wolves damage the tree.
so watch and keep the wolves away."
then the sun-hero strove with all his might and kept the black wolves at bay, and conquered his desire to sleep; but on the eighth night his strength failed him, and he fell fast asleep.
when he awoke a woman in black stood beside him, who said: "you have fulfilled your task very badly, for you have let the two black wolves damage the tree of the sun.
i am the mother of the sun, and i command you to ride away from here at once, and i pronounce sentence of death upon you, for you proudly let yourself be called the sun-hero without having done anything to deserve the name."
the youth mounted his horse sadly, and rode home.
the people all thronged round him on his return, anxious to hear his adventures, but he told them nothing, and only to his mother did he confide what had befallen him.
but the old queen laughed, and said to her son: "do n't worry, my child; you see, the fairy has protected you so far, and the sun has found no one to kill you.
so cheer up and be happy."
after a time the prince forgot all about his adventure, and married a beautiful princess, with whom he lived very happily for some time.
but one day when he was out hunting he felt very thirsty, and coming to a stream he stooped down to drink from it, and this caused his death, for a crab came swimming up, and with its claws tore out his tongue.
he was carried home in a dying condition, and as he lay on his death-bed the black woman appeared and said: "so the sun has, after all, found someone, who was not under the fairy's spell, who has caused your death.
and a similar fate will overtake everyone under the sun who wrongfully assumes a title to which he has no right."
the witch -lrb- 28 -rrb- -lrb- 28 -rrb- from the russian.
once upon a time there was a peasant whose wife died, leaving him with two children -- twins -- a boy and a girl.
for some years the poor man lived on alone with the children, caring for them as best he could; but everything in the house seemed to go wrong without a woman to look after it, and at last he made up his mind to marry again, feeling that a wife would bring peace and order to his household and take care of his motherless children.
so he married, and in the following years several children were born to him; but peace and order did not come to the household.
for the step-mother was very cruel to the twins, and beat them, and half-starved them, and constantly drove them out of the house; for her one idea was to get them out of the way.
all day she thought of nothing but how she should get rid of them; and at last an evil idea came into her head, and she determined to send them out into the great gloomy wood where a wicked witch lived.
and so one morning she spoke to them, saying: "you have been such good children that i am going to send you to visit my granny, who lives in a dear little hut in the wood.
you will have to wait upon her and serve her, but you will be well rewarded, for she will give you the best of everything."
so the children left the house together; and the little sister, who was very wise for her years, said to the brother: "we will first go and see our own dear grandmother, and tell her where our step-mother is sending us."
and when the grandmother heard where they were going, she cried and said: "you poor motherless children!
how i pity you; and yet i can do nothing to help you!
your step-mother is not sending you to her granny, but to a wicked witch who lives in that great gloomy wood.
now listen to me, children.
you must be civil and kind to everyone, and never say a cross word to anyone, and never touch a crumb belonging to anyone else.
who knows if, after all, help may not be sent to you?"
and she gave her grandchildren a bottle of milk and a piece of ham and a loaf of bread, and they set out for the great gloomy wood.
when they reached it they saw in front of them, in the thickest of the trees, a queer little hut, and when they looked into it, there lay the witch, with her head on the threshold of the door, with one foot in one corner and the other in the other corner, and her knees cocked up, almost touching the ceiling.
"who's there?"
she snarled, in an awful voice, when she saw the children.
and they answered civilly, though they were so terrified that they hid behind one another, and said: "good-morning, granny; our step-mother has sent us to wait upon you, and serve you."
"see that you do it well, then," growled the witch.
"if i am pleased with you, i'll reward you; but if i am not, i'll put you in a pan and fry you in the oven -- that's what i'll do with you, my pretty dears!
you have been gently reared, but you'll find my work hard enough.
see if you do n't."
and, so saying, she set the girl down to spin yarn, and she gave the boy a sieve in which to carry water from the well, and she herself went out into the wood.
now, as the girl was sitting at her distaff, weeping bitterly because she could not spin, she heard the sound of hundreds of little feet, and from every hole and corner in the hut mice came pattering along the floor, squeaking and saying: "little girl, why are your eyes so red?
if you want help, then give us some bread."
and the girl gave them the bread that her grandmother had given her.
then the mice told her that the witch had a cat, and the cat was very fond of ham; if she would give the cat her ham, it would show her the way out of the wood, and in the meantime they would spin the yarn for her.
so the girl set out to look for the cat, and, as she was hunting about, she met her brother, in great trouble because he could not carry water from the well in a sieve, as it came pouring out as fast as he put it in.
and as she was trying to comfort him they heard a rustling of wings, and a flight of wrens alighted on the ground beside them.
and the wrens said: "give us some crumbs, then you need not grieve.
for you'll find that water will stay in the sieve."
then the twins crumbled their bread on the ground, and the wrens pecked it, and chirruped and chirped.
and when they had eaten the last crumb they told the boy to fill up the holes of the sieve with clay, and then to draw water from the well.
so he did what they said, and carried the sieve full of water into the hut without spilling a drop.
when they entered the hut the cat was curled up on the floor.
so they stroked her, and fed her with ham, and said to her: "pussy, grey pussy, tell us how we are to get away from the witch?"
then the cat thanked them for the ham, and gave them a pocket-handkerchief and a comb, and told them that when the witch pursued them, as she certainly would, all they had to do was to throw the handkerchief on the ground and run as fast as they could.
as soon as the handkerchief touched the ground a deep, broad river would spring up, which would hinder the witch's progress.
if she managed to get across it, they must throw the comb behind them and run for their lives, for where the comb fell a dense forest would start up, which would delay the witch so long that they would be able to get safely away.
the cat had scarcely finished speaking when the witch returned to see if the children had fulfilled their tasks.
"well, you have done well enough for to-day," she grumbled; "but to-morrow you'll have something more difficult to do, and if you do n't do it well, you pampered brats, straight into the oven you go."
half-dead with fright, and trembling in every limb, the poor children lay down to sleep on a heap of straw in the corner of the hut; but they dared not close their eyes, and scarcely ventured to breathe.
in the morning the witch gave the girl two pieces of linen to weave before night, and the boy a pile of wood to cut into chips.
then the witch left them to their tasks, and went out into the wood.
as soon as she had gone out of sight the children took the comb and the handkerchief, and, taking one another by the hand, they started and ran, and ran, and ran.
and first they met the watch-dog, who was going to leap on them and tear them to pieces; but they threw the remains of their bread to him, and he ate them and wagged his tail.
then they were hindered by the birch-trees, whose branches almost put their eyes out.
but the little sister tied the twigs together with a piece of ribbon, and they got past safely, and, after running through the wood, came out on to the open fields.
in the meantime in the hut the cat was busy weaving the linen and tangling the threads as it wove.
and the witch returned to see how the children were getting on; and she crept up to the window, and whispered: "are you weaving, my little dear?"
"yes, granny, i am weaving," answered the cat.
when the witch saw that the children had escaped her, she was furious, and, hitting the cat with a porringer, she said: "why did you let the children leave the hut?
why did you not scratch their eyes out?"
but the cat curled up its tail and put its back up, and answered: "i have served you all these years and you never even threw me a bone, but the dear children gave me their own piece of ham."
then the witch was furious with the watch-dog and with the birch-trees, because they had let the children pass.
but the dog answered: "i have served you all these years and you never gave me so much as a hard crust, but the dear children gave me their own loaf of bread."
and the birch rustled its leaves, and said: "i have served you longer than i can say, and you never tied a bit of twine even round my branches; and the dear children bound them up with their brightest ribbons."
so the witch saw there was no help to be got from her old servants, and that the best thing she could do was to mount on her broom and set off in pursuit of the children.
and as the children ran they heard the sound of the broom sweeping the ground close behind them, so instantly they threw the handkerchief down over their shoulder, and in a moment a deep, broad river flowed behind them.
when the witch came up to it, it took her a long time before she found a place which she could ford over on her broom-stick; but at last she got across, and continued the chase faster than before.
and as the children ran they heard a sound, and the little sister put her ear to the ground, and heard the broom sweeping the earth close behind them; so, quick as thought, she threw the comb down on the ground, and in an instant, as the cat had said, a dense forest sprung up, in which the roots and branches were so closely intertwined, that it was impossible to force a way through it.
so when the witch came up to it on her broom she found that there was nothing for it but to turn round and go back to her hut.
but the twins ran straight on till they reached their own home.
then they told their father all that they had suffered, and he was so angry with their step-mother that he drove her out of the house, and never let her return; but he and the children lived happily together; and he took care of them himself, and never let a stranger come near them.
the hazel-nut child -lrb- 29 -rrb- -lrb- 29 -rrb- from the bukowniaer.
van wliolocki.
there was once upon a time a couple who had no children, and they prayed heaven every day to send them a child, though it were no bigger than a hazel-nut.
at last heaven heard their prayer and sent them a child exactly the size of a hazel-nut, and it never grew an inch.
the parents were very devoted to the little creature, and nursed and tended it carefully.
their tiny son too was as clever as he could be, and so sharp and sensible that all the neighbours marvelled over the wise things he said and did.
when the hazel-nut child was fifteen years old, and was sitting one day in an egg-shell on the table beside his mother, she turned to him and said, "you are now fifteen years old, and nothing can be done with you.
what do you intend to be?'"
a messenger," answered the hazel-nut child.
then his mother burst out laughing and said, "what an idea!
you a messenger!
why, your little feet would take an hour to go the distance an ordinary person could do in a minute!"
but the hazel-nut child replied, "nevertheless i mean to be a messenger!
just send me a message and you'll see that i shall be back in next to no time."
so his mother said, "very well, go to your aunt in the neighbouring village, and fetch me a comb."
the hazel-nut child jumped quickly out of the egg-shell and ran out into the street.
here he found a man on horseback who was just setting out for the neighbouring village.
he crept up the horse's leg, sat down under the saddle, and then began to pinch the horse and to prick it with a pin.
the horse plunged and reared and then set off at a hard gallop, which it continued in spite of its rider's efforts to stop it.
when they reached the village, the hazel-nut child left off pricking the horse, and the poor tired creature pursued its way at a snail's pace.
the hazel-nut child took advantage of this, and crept down the horse's leg; then he ran to his aunt and asked her for a comb.
on the way home he met another rider, and did the return journey in exactly the same way.
when he handed his mother the comb that his aunt had given him, she was much amazed and asked him, "but how did you manage to get back so quickly?"
"ah!
mother," he replied, "you see i was quite right when i said i knew a messenger was the profession for me."
his father too possessed a horse which he often used to take out into the fields to graze.
one day he took the hazel-nut child with him.
at midday the father turned to his small son and said, "stay here and look after the horse.
i must go home and give your mother a message, but i shall be back soon."
when his father had gone, a robber passed by and saw the horse grazing without any one watching it, for of course he could not see the hazel-nut child hidden in the grass.
so he mounted the horse and rode away.
but the hazel-nut child, who was the most active little creature, climbed up the horse's tail and began to bite it on the back, enraging the creature to such an extent that it paid no attention to the direction the robber tried to make it go in, but galloped straight home.
the father was much astonished when he saw a stranger riding his horse, but the hazel-nut child climbed down quickly and told him all that had happened, and his father had the robber arrested at once and put into prison.
one autumn when the hazel-nut child was twenty years old he said to his parents: "farewell, my dear father and mother.
i am going to set out into the world, and as soon as i have become rich i will return home to you."
the parents laughed at the little man's words, but did not believe him for a moment.
in the evening the hazel-nut child crept on to the roof, where some storks had built their nest.
the storks were fast asleep, and he climbed on to the back of the father-stork and bound a silk cord round the joint of one of its wings, then he crept among its soft downy feathers and fell asleep.
the next morning the storks flew towards the south, for winter was approaching.
the hazel-nut child flew through the air on the stork's back, and when he wanted to rest he bound his silk cord on to the joint of the bird's other wing, so that it could not fly any farther.
in this way he reached the country of the black people, where the storks took up their abode close to the capital.
when the people saw the hazel-nut child they were much astonished, and took him with the stork to the king of the country.
the king was delighted with the little creature and kept him always beside him, and he soon grew so fond of the little man that he gave him a diamond four times as big as himself.
the hazel-nut child fastened the diamond firmly under the stork's neck with a ribbon, and when he saw that the other storks were getting ready for their northern flight, he untied the silk cord from his stork's wings, and away they went, getting nearer home every minute.
at length the hazel-nut child came to his native village; then he undid the ribbon from the stork's neck and the diamond fell to the ground; he covered it first with sand and stones, and then ran to get his parents, so that they might carry the treasure home, for he himself was not able to lift the great diamond.
so the hazel-nut child and his parents lived in happiness and prosperity after this till they died.
the story of big klaus and little klaus in a certain village there lived two people who had both the same name.
both were called klaus, but one owned four horses and the other only one.
in order to distinguish the one from the other, the one who had four horses was called big klaus, and the one who had only one horse, little klaus.
now you shall hear what befell them both, for this is a true story.
the whole week through little klaus had to plough for big klaus, and lend him his one horse; then big klaus lent him his four horses, but only once a week, and that was on sunday.
hurrah!
how loudly little klaus cracked his whip over all the five horses!
for they were indeed as good as his on this one day.
the sun shone brightly, and all the bells in the church-towers were pealing; the people were dressed in their best clothes, and were going to church, with their hymn books under their arms, to hear the minister preach.
they saw little klaus ploughing with the five horses; but he was so happy that he kept on cracking his whip, and calling out "gee-up, my five horses!"
"you must n't say that," said big klaus.
"only one horse is yours."
but as soon as someone else was going by little klaus forgot that he must not say it, and called out "gee-up, my five horses!"
"now you had better stop that," said big klaus, "for if you say it once more i will give your horse such a crack on the head that it will drop down dead on the spot!'"
i really wo n't say it again!"
said little klaus.
but as soon as more people passed by, and nodded him good-morning, he became so happy in thinking how well it looked to have five horses ploughing his field that, cracking his whip, he called out "gee-up, my five horses!"
"i'll see to your horses!"
said big klaus; and, seizing an iron bar, he struck little klaus" one horse such a blow on the head that it fell down and died on the spot.
"alas!
now i have no horse!"
said little klaus, beginning to cry.
then he flayed the skin off his horse, dried it, and put it in a sack, which he threw over his shoulder, and went into the town to sell it.
he had a long way to go, and had to pass through a great dark forest.
a dreadful storm came on, in which he lost his way, and before he could get on to the right road night came on, and it was impossible to reach the town that evening.
right in front of him was a large farm-house.
the window-shutters were closed, but the light came through the chinks."
i should very much like to be allowed to spend the night there," thought little klaus; and he went and knocked at the door.
the farmer's wife opened it, but when she heard what he wanted she told him to go away; her husband was not at home, and she took in no strangers.
"well, i must lie down outside," said little klaus; and the farmer's wife shut the door in his face.
close by stood a large haystack, and between it and the house a little out-house, covered with a flat thatched roof."
i can lie down there," thought little klaus, looking at the roof; "it will make a splendid bed, if only the stork wo n't fly down and bite my legs."
for a live stork was standing on the roof, where it had its nest.
so little klaus crept up into the out-house, where he lay down, and made himself comfortable for the night.
the wooden shutters over the windows were not shut at the top, and he could just see into the room.
there stood a large table, spread with wine and roast meat and a beautiful fish.
the farmer's wife and the sexton sat at the table, but there was no one else.
she was filling up his glass, while he stuck his fork into the fish which was his favourite dish.
"if one could only get some of that!"
thought little klaus, stretching his head towards the window.
ah, what delicious cakes he saw standing there!
it was a feast!
then he heard someone riding along the road towards the house.
it was the farmer coming home.
he was a very worthy man; but he had one great peculiarity -- namely, that he could not bear to see a sexton.
if he saw one he was made quite mad.
that was why the sexton had gone to say good-day to the farmer's wife when he knew that her husband was not at home, and the good woman therefore put in front of him the best food she had.
but when they heard the farmer coming they were frightened, and the farmer's wife begged the sexton to creep into a great empty chest.
he did so, as he knew the poor man could not bear to see a sexton.
the wife hastily hid all the beautiful food and the wine in her oven; for if her husband had seen it, he would have been sure to ask what it all meant.
"oh, dear!
oh, dear!"
groaned little klaus up in the shed, when he saw the good food disappearing.
"is anybody up there?"
asked the farmer, catching sight of little klaus.
"why are you lying there?
come with me into the house."
then little klaus told him how he had lost his way, and begged to be allowed to spend the night there.
"yes, certainly," said the farmer; "but we must first have something to eat!"
the wife received them both very kindly, spread a long table, and gave them a large plate of porridge.
the farmer was hungry, and ate with a good appetite; but little klaus could not help thinking of the delicious dishes of fish and roast meats and cakes which he knew were in the oven.
under the table at his feet he had laid the sack with the horse-skin in it, for, as we know, he was going to the town to sell it.
the porridge did not taste good to him, so he trod upon his sack, and the dry skin in the sack squeaked loudly.
"hush!"
said little klaus to his sack, at the same time treading on it again so that it squeaked even louder than before.
"hallo!
what have you got in your sack?"
asked the farmer.
"oh, it is a wizard!"
said little klaus.
"he says we should not eat porridge, for he has conjured the whole oven full of roast meats and fish and cakes."
"goodness me!"
said the farmer; and opening the oven he saw all the delicious, tempting dishes his wife had hidden there, but which he now believed the wizard in the sack had conjured up for them.
the wife could say nothing, but she put the food at once on the table, and they ate the fish, the roast meat, and the cakes.
little klaus now trod again on his sack, so that the skin squeaked.
"what does he say now?"
asked the farmer.
"he says," replied little klans, "that he has also conjured up for us three bottles of wine; they are standing in the corner by the oven!"
the wife had to fetch the wine which she had hidden, and the farmer drank and grew very merry.
he would very much like to have had such a wizard as little klaus had in the sack.
"can he conjure up the devil?"
asked the farmer."
i should like to see him very much, for i feel just now in very good spirits!"
"yes," said little klaus; "my wizard can do everything that i ask.
is n't that true?"
he asked, treading on the sack so that it squeaked.
"do you hear?
he says" yes;" but that the devil looks so ugly that we should not like to see him."
"oh!
i'm not at all afraid.
what does he look like?"
"he will show himself in the shape of a sexton!'"
i say!"
said the farmer, "he must be ugly!
you must know that i ca n't bear to look at a sexton!
but it does n't matter.
i know that it is the devil, and i sha'n' t mind!
i feel up to it now.
but he must not come too near me!'"
i must ask my wizard," said little klaus, treading on the sack and putting his ear to it.
"what does he say?"
"he says you can open the chest in the corner there, and you will see the devil squatting inside it; but you must hold the lid so that he shall not escape."
"will you help me to hold him?"
begged the farmer, going towards the chest where his wife had hidden the real sexton, who was sitting inside in a terrible fright.
the farmer opened the lid a little way, and saw him inside.
"ugh!"
he shrieked, springing back.
"yes, now i have seen him; he looked just like our sexton.
oh, it was horrid!"
so he had to drink again, and they drank till far on into the night.
"you must sell me the wizard," said the farmer.
"ask anything you like!
i will pay you down a bushelful of money on the spot."
"no, i really ca n't," said little klans.
"just think how many things i can get from this wizard!"
"ah!
i should like to have him so much!"
said the farmer, begging very hard.
"well!"
said little klaus at last, "as you have been so good as to give me shelter to-night, i will sell him.
you shall have the wizard for a bushel of money, but i must have full measure."
"that you shall," said the farmer.
"but you must take the chest with you.
i wo n't keep it another hour in the house.
who knows that he is n't in there still?"
little klaus gave the farmer his sack with the dry skin, and got instead a good bushelful of money.
the farmer also gave him a wheelbarrow to carry away his money and the chest.
"farewell," said little klaus; and away he went with his money and the big chest, wherein sat the sexton.
on the other side of the wood was a large deep river.
the water flowed so rapidly that you could scarcely swim against the stream.
a great new bridge had been built over it, on the middle of which little klaus stopped, and said aloud so that the sexton might hear: "now, what am i to do with this stupid chest?
it is as heavy as if it were filled with stones!
i shall only be tired, dragging it along; i will throw it into the river.
if it swims home to me, well and good; and if it does n't, it's no matter."
then he took the chest with one hand and lifted it up a little, as if he were going to throw it into the water.
"no, do n't do that!"
called out the sexton in the chest.
"let me get out first!"
"oh, oh!"
said little klaus, pretending that he was afraid.
"he is still in there!
i must throw him quickly into the water to drown him!"
"oh!
no, no!"
cried the sexton."
i will give you a whole bushelful of money if you will let me go!"
"ah, that's quite another thing!"
said little klaus, opening the chest.
the sexton crept out very quickly, pushed the empty chest into the water and went to his house, where he gave little klaus a bushel of money.
one he had had already from the farmer, and now he had his wheelbarrow full of money.
"well, i have got a good price for the horse!"
said he to himself when he shook all his money out in a heap in his room.
"this will put big klaus in a rage when he hears how rich i have become through my one horse; but i wo n't tell him just yet!"
so he sent a boy to big klaus to borrow a bushel measure from him.
"now what can he want with it?"
thought big klaus; and he smeared some tar at the bottom, so that of whatever was measured a little should remain in it.
and this is just what happened; for when he got his measure back, three new silver five-shilling pieces were sticking to it.
what does this mean?"
said big klaus, and he ran off at once to little klaus.
"where did you get so much money from?"
"oh, that was from my horse-skin.
i sold it yesterday evening."
"that's certainly a good price!"
said big klaus; and running home in great haste, he took an axe, knocked all his four horses on the head, skinned them, and went into the town.
"skins!
skins!
who will buy skins?"
he cried through the streets.
all the shoemakers and tanners came running to ask him what he wanted for them."
a bushel of money for each," said big klaus.
"are you mad?"
they all exclaimed.
"do you think we have money by the bushel?"
"skins!
skins!
who will buy skins?"
he cried again, and to all who asked him what they cost, he answered," a bushel of money."
"he is making game of us," they said; and the shoemakers seized their yard measures and the tanners their leathern aprons and they gave big klaus a good beating.
"skins!
skins!"
they cried mockingly; yes, we will tan your skin for you!
out of the town with him!"
they shouted; and big klaus had to hurry off as quickly as he could, if he wanted to save his life.
"aha!"
said he when he came home, "little klaus shall pay dearly for this.
i will kill him!"
little klaus" grandmother had just died.
though she had been very unkind to him, he was very much distressed, and he took the dead woman and laid her in his warm bed to try if he could not bring her back to life.
there she lay the whole night, while he sat in the corner and slept on a chair, which he had often done before.
and in the night as he sat there the door opened, and big klaus came in with his axe.
he knew quite well where little klaus's bed stood, and going up to it he struck the grandmother on the head just where he thought little klaus would be.
"there!"
said he.
"now you wo n't get the best of me again!"
and he went home.
"what a very wicked man!"
thought little klaus.
"he was going to kill me!
it was a good thing for my grandmother that she was dead already, or else he would have killed her!"
then he dressed his grandmother in her sunday clothes, borrowed a horse from his neighbour, harnessed the cart to it, sat his grandmother on the back seat so that she could not fall out when he drove, and away they went.
when the sun rose they were in front of a large inn.
little klaus got down, and went in to get something to drink.
the host was very rich.
he was a very worthy but hot-tempered man.
"good morning!"
said he to little klaus.
"you are early on the road."
"yes," said little klaus."
i am going to the town with my grandmother.
she is sitting outside in the cart; i can not bring her in.
will you not give her a glass of mead?
but you will have to speak loud, for she is very hard of hearing."
"oh yes, certainly i will!"
said the host; and, pouring out a large glass of mead, he took it out to the dead grandmother, who was sitting upright in the cart.
"here is a glass of mead from your son," said the host.
but the dead woman did not answer a word, and sat still.
"do n't you hear?"
cried the host as loud as he could.
"here is a glass of mead from your son!"
then he shouted the same thing again, and yet again, but she never moved in her place; and at last he grew angry, threw the glass in her face, so that she fell back into the cart, for she was not tied in her place.
"hullo!"
cried little klaus, running out of the door, and seizing the host by the throat.
"you have killed my grandmother!
look!
there is a great hole in her forehead!"
"oh, what a misfortune!"
cried the host, wringing his hands.
"it all comes from my hot temper!
dear little klaus!
i will give you a bushel of money, and will bury your grandmother as if she were my own; only do n't tell about it, or i shall have my head cut off, and that would be very uncomfortable."
so little klaus got a bushel of money, and the host buried his grandmother as if she had been his own.
now when little klaus again reached home with so much money he sent his boy to big klaus to borrow his bushel measure.
"what's this?"
said big klaus.
"did n't i kill him?
i must see to this myself!"
so he went himself to little klaus with the measure.
"well, now, where did you get all this money?"
asked he, opening his eyes at the heap.
"you killed my grandmother -- not me," said little klaus."
i sold her, and got a bushel of money for her."
"that is indeed a good price!"
said big klaus; and, hurrying home, he took an axe and killed his grandmother, laid her in the cart, and drove off to the apothecary's, and asked whether he wanted to buy a dead body.
"who is it, and how did you get it?"
asked the apothecary.
"it is my grandmother," said big klaus."
i killed her in order to get a bushel of money."
"you are mad!"
said the apothecary.
"do n't mention such things, or you will lose your head!"
and he began to tell him what a dreadful thing he had done, and what a wicked man he was, and that he ought to be punished; till big klaus was so frightened that he jumped into the cart and drove home as hard as he could.
the apothecary and all the people thought he must be mad, so they let him go.
"you shall pay for this!"
said big klaus as he drove home.
"you shall pay for this dearly, little klaus!"
so as soon as he got home he took the largest sack he could find, and went to little klaus and said: "you have fooled me again!
first i killed my horses, then my grandmother!
it is all your fault; but you sha'n' t do it again!"
and he seized little klaus, pushed him in the sack, threw it over his shoulder, crying out "now i am going to drown you!"
he had to go a long way before he came to the river, and little klaus was not very light.
the road passed by the church; the organ was sounding, and the people were singing most beautifully.
big klaus put down the sack with little klaus in it by the church-door, and thought that he might as well go in and hear a psalm before going on farther.
little klaus could not get out, and everybody was in church; so he went in.
"oh, dear!
oh, dear!"
groaned little klaus in the sack, twisting and turning himself.
but he could not undo the string.
there came by an old, old shepherd, with snow-white hair and a long staff in his hand.
he was driving a herd of cows and oxen.
these pushed against the sack so that it was overturned.
"alas!"
moaned little klans," i am so young and yet i must die!"
"and i, poor man," said the cattle-driver," i am so old and yet i can not die!"
"open the sack," called out little klaus; "creep in here instead of me, and you will die in a moment!'"
i will gladly do that," said the cattle-driver; and he opened the sack, and little klaus struggled out at once.
"you will take care of the cattle, wo n't you?"
asked the old man, creeping into the sack, which little klaus fastened up and then went on with the cows and oxen.
soon after big klaus came out of the church, and taking up the sack on his shoulders it seemed to him as if it had become lighter; for the old cattle-driver was not half as heavy as little klaus.
"how easy he is to carry now!
that must be because i heard part of the service."
so he went to the river, which was deep and broad, threw in the sack with the old driver, and called after it, for he thought little klaus was inside: "down you go!
you wo n't mock me any more now!"
then he went home; but when he came to the cross-roads, there he met little klaus, who was driving his cattle.
"what's this?"
said big klaus.
"have n't i drowned you?"
"yes," replied little klaus; "you threw me into the river a good half-hour ago!"
"but how did you get those splendid cattle?"
asked big klaus.
"they are sea-cattle!"
said little klaus."
i will tell you the whole story, and i thank you for having drowned me, because now i am on dry land and really rich!
how frightened i was when i was in the sack!
how the wind whistled in my ears as you threw me from the bridge into the cold water!
i sank at once to the bottom; but i did not hurt myself for underneath was growing the most beautiful soft grass.
i fell on this, and immediately the sack opened; the loveliest maiden in snow-white garments, with a green garland round her wet hair, took me by the hand, and said!"
are you little klaus?
here are some cattle for you to begin with, and a mile farther down the road there is another herd, which i will give you as a present!"
now i saw that the river was a great high-road for the sea-people.
along it they travel underneath from the sea to the land till the river ends.
it was so beautiful, full of flowers and fresh grass; the fishes which were swimming in the water shot past my ears as the birds do here in the air.
what lovely people there were, and what fine cattle were grazing in the ditches and dykes!"
"but why did you come up to us again?"
asked big klaus."
i should not have done so, if it is so beautiful down below!"
"oh!"
said little klaus, "that was just so politic of me.
you heard what i told you, that the sea-maiden said to me a mile farther along the road -- and by the road she meant the river, for she can go by no other way -- there was another herd of cattle waiting for me.
but i know what windings the river makes, now here, now there, so that it is a long way round.
therefore it makes it much shorter if one comes on the land and drives across the field to the river.
thus i have spared myself quite half a mile, and have come much quicker to my sea-cattle!"
"oh, you're a lucky fellow!"
said big klaus.
"do you think i should also get some cattle if i went to the bottom of the river?"
"oh, yes!
i think so," said little klaus.
"but i ca n't carry you in a sack to the river; you are too heavy for me!
if you like to go there yourself and then creep into the sack, i will throw you in with the greatest of pleasure."
"thank you," said big klaus; "but if i do n't get any sea-cattle when i come there, you will have a good hiding, mind!"
"oh, no!
do n't be so hard on me!"
then they went to the river.
when the cattle, which were thirsty, caught sight of the water, they ran as quickly as they could to drink.
"look how they are running!"
said little klaus.
"they want to go to the bottom again!"
"yes; but help me first," said big klaus, "or else you shall have a beating!"
and so he crept into the large sack, which was lying on the back of one of the oxen.
"put a stone in, for i am afraid i may not reach the bottom," said big klaus.
"it goes all right!"
said little klaus; but still he laid a big stone in the sack, fastened it up tight, and then pushed it in.
plump!
there was big klaus in the water, and he sank like lead to the bottom."
i doubt if he will find any cattle!"
said little klaus as he drove his own home.
prince ring -lrb- 30 -rrb- -lrb- 30 -rrb- from the icelandic.
once upon a time there was a king and his queen in their kingdom.
they had one daughter, who was called ingiborg, and one son, whose name was ring.
he was less fond of adventures than men of rank usually were in those days, and was not famous for strength or feats of arms.
when he was twelve years old, one fine winter day he rode into the forest along with his men to enjoy himself.
they went on a long way, until they caught sight of a hind with a gold ring on its horns.
the prince was eager to catch it, if possible, so they gave chase and rode on without stopping until all the horses began to founder beneath them.
at last the prince's horse gave way too, and then there came over them a darkness so black that they could no longer see the hind.
by this time they were far away from any house, and thought it was high time to be making their way home again, but they found they had got lost now.
at first they all kept together, but soon each began to think that he knew the right way best; so they separated, and all went in different directions.
the prince, too, had got lost like the rest, and wandered on for a time until he came to a little clearing in the forest not far from the sea, where he saw a woman sitting on a chair and a big barrel standing beside her.
the prince went up to her and saluted her politely, and she received him very graciously.
he looked down into the barrel then, and saw lying at the bottom an unusually beautiful gold ring, which pleased him so much that he could not take his eyes off it.
the woman saw this, and said that he might have it if he would take the trouble to get it; for which the prince thanked her, and said it was at least worth trying.
so he leaned over into the barrel, which did not seem very deep, and thought he would easily reach the ring; but the more he stretched down after it the deeper grew the barrel.
as he was thus bending down into it the woman suddenly rose up and pushed him in head first, saying that now he could take up his quarters there.
then she fixed the top on the barrel and threw it out into the sea.
the prince thought himself in a bad plight now, as he felt the barrel floating out from the land and tossing about on the waves.
how many days he spent thus he could not tell, but at last he felt that the barrel was knocking against rocks, at which he was a little cheered, thinking it was probably land and not merely a reef in the sea.
being something of a swimmer, he at last made up his mind to kick the bottom out of the barrel, and having done so he was able to get on shore, for the rocks by the sea were smooth and level; but overhead there were high cliffs.
it seemed difficult to get up these, but he went along the foot of them for a little, till at last he tried to climb up, which at last he did.
having got to the top, he looked round about him and saw that he was on an island, which was covered with forest, with apples growing, and altogether pleasant as far as the land was concerned.
after he had been there several days, he one day heard a great noise in the forest, which made him terribly afraid, so that he ran to hide himself among the trees.
then he saw a giant approaching, dragging a sledge loaded with wood, and making straight for him, so that he could see nothing for it but to lie down just where he was.
when the giant came across him, he stood still and looked at the prince for a little; then he took him up in his arms and carried him home to his house, and was exceedingly kind to him.
he gave him to his wife, saying he had found this child in the wood, and she could have it to help her in the house.
the old woman was greatly pleased, and began to fondle the prince with the utmost delight.
he stayed there with them, and was very willing and obedient to them in everything, while they grew kinder to him every day.
one day the giant took him round and showed him all his rooms except the parlour; this made the prince curious to have a look into it, thinking there must be some very rare treasure there.
so one day, when the giant had gone into the forest, he tried to get into the parlour, and managed to get the door open half-way.
then he saw that some living creature moved inside and ran along the floor towards him and said something, which made him so frightened that he sprang back from the door and shut it again.
as soon as the fright began to pass off he tried it again, for he thought it would be interesting to hear what it said; but things went just as before with him.
he then got angry with himself, and, summoning up all his courage, tried it a third time, and opened the door of the room and stood firm.
then he saw that it was a big dog, which spoke to him and said: "choose me, prince ring."
the prince went away rather afraid, thinking with himself that it was no great treasure after all; but all the same what it had said to him stuck in his mind.
it is not said how long the prince stayed with the giant, but one day the latter came to him and said he would now take him over to the mainland out of the island, for he himself had no long time to live.
he also thanked him for his good service, and told him to choose some-one of his possessions, for he would get whatever he wanted.
ring thanked him heartily, and said there was no need to pay him for his services, they were so little worth; but if he did wish to give him anything he would choose what was in the parlour.
the giant was taken by surprise, and said: "there, you chose my old woman's right hand; but i must not break my word."
upon this he went to get the dog, which came running with signs of great delight; but the prince was so much afraid of it that it was all he could do to keep from showing his alarm.
after this the giant accompanied him down to the sea, where he saw a stone boat which was just big enough to hold the two of them and the dog.
on reaching the mainland the giant took a friendly farewell of ring, and told him he might take possession of all that was in the island after he and his wife died, which would happen within two weeks from that time.
the prince thanked him for this and for all his other kindnesses, and the giant returned home, while ring went up some distance from the sea; but he did not know what land he had come to, and was afraid to speak to the dog.
after he had walked on in silence for a time the dog spoke to him and said: "you do n't seem to have much curiosity, seeing you never ask my name."
the prince then forced himself to ask, "what is your name?"
"you had best call me snati-snati," said the dog.
"now we are coming to a king's seat, and you must ask the king to keep us all winter, and to give you a little room for both of us."
the prince now began to be less afraid of the dog.
they came to the king and asked him to keep them all the winter, to which he agreed.
when the king's men saw the dog they began to laugh at it, and make as if they would tease it; but when the prince saw this he advised them not to do it, or they might have the worst of it.
they replied that they did n't care a bit what he thought.
after ring had been with the king for some days the latter began to think there was a great deal in him, and esteemed him more than the others.
the king, however, had a counsellor called red, who became very jealous when he saw how much the king esteemed ring; and one day he talked to him, and said he could not understand why he had so good an opinion of this stranger, who had not yet shown himself superior to other men in anything.
the king replied that it was only a short time since he had come there.
red then asked him to send them both to cut down wood next morning, and see which of them could do most work.
snati-snati heard this and told it to ring, advising him to ask the king for two axes, so that he might have one in reserve if the first one got broken.
next morning the king asked ring and red to go and cut down trees for him, and both agreed.
ring got the two axes, and each went his own way; but when the prince had got out into the wood snati took one of the axes and began to hew along with him.
in the evening the king came to look over their day's work, as red had proposed, and found that ring's wood-heap was more than twice as big."
i suspected," said the king, "that ring was not quite useless; never have i seen such a day's work."
ring was now in far greater esteem with the king than before, and red was all the more discontented.
one day he came to the king and said, "if ring is such a mighty man, i think you might ask him to kill the wild oxen in the wood here, and flay them the same day, and bring you the horns and the hides in the evening."
"do n't you think that a desperate errand?"
said the king, "seeing they are so dangerous, and no one has ever yet ventured to go against them?"
red answered that he had only one life to lose, and it would be interesting to see how brave he was; besides, the king would have good reason to ennoble him if he overcame them.
the king at last allowed himself, though rather unwillingly, to be won over by red's persistency, and one day asked ring to go and kill the oxen that were in the wood for him, and bring their horns and hides to him in the evening.
not knowing how dangerous the oxen were, ring was quite ready, and went off at once, to the great delight of red, who was now sure of his death.
as soon as ring came in sight of the oxen they came bellowing to meet him; one of them was tremendously big, the other rather less.
ring grew terribly afraid.
"how do you like them?"
asked snati.
"not well at all," said the prince.
"we can do nothing else," said snati, "than attack them, if it is to go well; you will go against the little one, and i shall take the other."
with this snati leapt at the big one, and was not long in bringing him down.
meanwhile the prince went against the other with fear and trembling, and by the time snati came to help him the ox had nearly got him under, but snati was not slow in helping his master to kill it.
each of them then began to flay their own ox, but ring was only half through by the time snati had finished his.
in the evening, after they had finished this task, the prince thought himself unfit to carry all the horns and both the hides, so snati told him to lay them all on his back until they got to the palace gate.
the prince agreed, and laid everything on the dog except the skin of the smaller ox, which he staggered along with himself.
at the palace gate he left everything lying, went before the king, and asked him to come that length with him, and there handed over to him the hides and horns of the oxen.
the king was greatly surprised at his valour, and said he knew no one like him, and thanked him heartily for what he had done.
after this the king set ring next to himself, and all esteemed him highly, and held him to be a great hero; nor could red any longer say anything against him, though he grew still more determined to destroy him.
one day a good idea came into his head.
he came to the king and said he had something to say to him.
"what is that?"
said the king.
red said that he had just remembered the gold cloak, gold chess-board, and bright gold piece that the king had lost about a year before.
"do n't remind me of them!"
said the king.
red, however, went on to say that, since ring was such a mighty man that he could do everything, it had occurred to him to advise the king to ask him to search for these treasures, and come back with them before christmas; in return the king should promise him his daughter.
the king replied that he thought it altogether unbecoming to propose such a thing to ring, seeing that he could not tell him where the things were; but red pretended not to hear the king's excuses, and went on talking about it until the king gave in to him.
one day, a month or so before christmas, the king spoke to ring, saying that he wished to ask a great favour of him.
"what is that?"
said ring.
"it is this," said the king: "that you find for me my gold cloak, my gold chess-board, and my bright gold piece, that were stolen from me about a year ago.
if you can bring them to me before christmas i will give you my daughter in marriage."
"where am i to look for them, then?"
said ring.
"that you must find out for yourself," said the king: "i do n't know."
ring now left the king, and was very silent, for he saw he was in a great difficulty: but, on the other hand, he thought it was excellent to have such a chance of winning the king's daughter.
snati noticed that his master was at a loss, and said to him that he should not disregard what the king had asked him to do; but he would have to act upon his advice, otherwise he would get into great difficulties.
the prince assented to this, and began to prepare for the journey.
after he had taken leave of the king, and was setting out on the search, snati said to him, "now you must first of all go about the neighbourhood, and gather as much salt as ever you can."
the prince did so, and gathered so much salt that he could hardly carry it; but snati said, "throw it on my back," which he accordingly did, and the dog then ran on before the prince, until they came to the foot of a steep cliff.
"we must go up here," said snati."
i do n't think that will be child's play," said the prince.
"hold fast by my tail," said snati; and in this way he pulled ring up on the lowest shelf of the rock.
the prince began to get giddy, but up went snati on to the second shelf.
ring was nearly swooning by this time, but snati made a third effort and reached the top of the cliff, where the prince fell down in a faint.
after a little, however, he recovered again, and they went a short distance along a level plain, until they came to a cave.
this was on christmas eve.
they went up above the cave, and found a window in it, through which they looked, and saw four trolls lying asleep beside the fire, over which a large porridge-pot was hanging.
"now you must empty all the salt into the porridge-pot," said snati.
ring did so, and soon the trolls wakened up.
the old hag, who was the most frightful of them all, went first to taste the porridge.
"how comes this?"
she said; "the porridge is salt!
i got the milk by witchcraft yesterday out of four kingdoms, and now it is salt!"
all the others then came to taste the porridge, and thought it nice, but after they had finished it the old hag grew so thirsty that she could stand it no longer, and asked her daughter to go out and bring her some water from the river that ran near by."
i wo n't go," said she, "unless you lend me your bright gold piece."
"though i should die you sha n't have that," said the hag.
"die, then," said the girl.
"well, then, take it, you brat," said the old hag, "and be off with you, and make haste with the water."
the girl took the gold and ran out with it, and it was so bright that it shone all over the plain.
as soon as she came to the river she lay down to take a drink of the water, but meanwhile the two of them had got down off the roof and thrust her, head first, into the river.
the old hag began now to long for the water, and said that the girl would be running about with the gold piece all over the plain, so she asked her son to go and get her a drop of water."
i wo n't go," said he, "unless i get the gold cloak."
"though i should die you sha n't have that," said the hag.
"die, then," said the son.
"well, then, take it," said the old hag, "and be off with you, but you must make haste with the water."
he put on the cloak, and when he came outside it shone so bright that he could see to go with it.
on reaching the river he went to take a drink like his sister, but at that moment ring and snati sprang upon him, took the cloak from him, and threw him into the river.
the old hag could stand the thirst no longer, and asked her husband to go for a drink for her; the brats, she said, were of course running about and playing themselves, just as she had expected they would, little wretches that they were."
i wo n't go," said the old troll, "unless you lend me the gold chess-board."
"though i should die you sha n't have that," said the hag."
i think you may just as well do that," said he, "since you wo n't grant me such a little favour."
"take it, then, you utter disgrace!"
said the old hag, "since you are just like these two brats."
the old troll now went out with the gold chess-board, and down to the river, and was about to take a drink, when ring and snati came upon him, took the chess-board from him, and threw him into the river.
before they had got back again, however, and up on top of the cave, they saw the poor old fellow's ghost come marching up from the river.
snati immediately sprang upon him, and ring assisted in the attack, and after a hard struggle they mastered him a second time.
when they got back again to the window they saw that the old hag was moving towards the door.
"now we must go in at once," said snati, "and try to master her there, for if she once gets out we shall have no chance with her.
she is the worst witch that ever lived, and no iron can cut her.
one of us must pour boiling porridge out of the pot on her, and the other punch her with red-hot iron."
in they went then, and no sooner did the hag see them than she said, "so you have come, prince ring; you must have seen to my husband and children."
snati saw that she was about to attack them, and sprang at her with a red-hot iron from the fire, while ring kept pouring boiling porridge on her without stopping, and in this way they at last got her killed.
then they burned the old troll and her to ashes, and explored the cave, where they found plenty of gold and treasures.
the most valuable of these they carried with them as far as the cliff, and left them there.
then they hastened home to the king with his three treasures, where they arrived late on christmas night, and ring handed them over to him.
the king was beside himself with joy, and was astonished at how clever a man ring was in all kinds of feats, so that he esteemed him still more highly than before, and betrothed his daughter to him; and the feast for this was to last all through christmastide.
ring thanked the king courteously for this and all his other kindnesses, and as soon as he had finished eating and drinking in the hall went off to sleep in his own room.
snati, however, asked permission to sleep in the prince's bed for that night, while the prince should sleep where the dog usually lay.
ring said he was welcome to do so, and that he deserved more from him than that came to.
so snati went up into the prince's bed, but after a time he came back, and told ring he could go there himself now, but to take care not to meddle with anything that was in the bed.
now the story comes back to red, who came into the hall and showed the king his right arm wanting the hand, and said that now he could see what kind of a man his intended son-in-law was, for he had done this to him without any cause whatever.
the king became very angry, and said he would soon find out the truth about it, and if ring had cut off his hand without good cause he should be hanged; but if it was otherwise, then red should die.
so the king sent for ring and asked him for what reason he had done this.
snati, however, had just told ring what had happened during the night, and in reply he asked the king to go with him and he would show him something.
the king went with him to his sleeping-room, and saw lying on the bed a man's hand holding a sword.
"this hand," said ring, "came over the partition during the night, and was about to run me through in my bed, if i had not defended myself."
the king answered that in that case he could not blame him for protecting his own life, and that red was well worthy of death.
so red was hanged, and ring married the king's daughter.
the first night that they went to bed together snati asked ring to allow him to lie at their feet, and this ring allowed him to do.
during the night he heard a howling and outcry beside them, struck a light in a hurry and saw an ugly dog's skin lying near him, and a beautiful prince in the bed.
ring instantly took the skin and burned it, and then shook the prince, who was lying unconscious, until he woke up.
the bridegroom then asked his name; he replied that he was called ring, and was a king's son.
in his youth he had lost his mother, and in her place his father had married a witch, who had laid a spell on him that he should turn into a dog, and never be released from the spell unless a prince of the same name as himself allowed him to sleep at his feet the first night after his marriage.
he added further, "as soon as she knew that you were my namesake she tried to get you destroyed, so that you might not free me from the spell.
she was the hind that you and your companions chased; she was the woman that you found in the clearing with the barrel, and the old hag that we just now killed in the cave."
after the feasting was over the two namesakes, along with other men, went to the cliff and brought all the treasure home to the palace.
then they went to the island and removed all that was valuable from it.
ring gave to his namesake, whom he had freed from the spell, his sister ingiborg and his father's kingdom to look after, but he himself stayed with his father-in-law the king, and had half the kingdom while he lived and the whole of it after his death.
the swineherd there was once a poor prince.
he possessed a kingdom which, though small, was yet large enough for him to marry on, and married he wished to be.
now it was certainly a little audacious of him to venture to say to the emperor's daughter, "will you marry me?"
but he did venture to say so, for his name was known far and wide.
there were hundreds of princesses who would gladly have said "yes," but would she say the same?
well, we shall see.
on the grave of the prince's father grew a rose-tree, a very beautiful rose-tree.
it only bloomed every five years, and then bore but a single rose, but oh, such a rose!
its scent was so sweet that when you smelt it you forgot all your cares and troubles.
and he had also a nightingale which could sing as if all the beautiful melodies in the world were shut up in its little throat.
this rose and this nightingale the princess was to have, and so they were both put into silver caskets and sent to her.
the emperor had them brought to him in the great hall, where the princess was playing "here comes a duke a-riding" with her ladies-in-waiting.
and when she caught sight of the big caskets which contained the presents, she clapped her hands for joy.
"if only it were a little pussy cat!"
she said.
but the rose-tree with the beautiful rose came out.
"but how prettily it is made!"
said all the ladies-in-waiting.
"it is more than pretty," said the emperor, "it is charming!"
but the princess felt it, and then she almost began to cry.
"ugh!
papa," she said, "it is not artificial, it is real!"
"ugh!"
said all the ladies-in-waiting, "it is real!"
"let us see first what is in the other casket before we begin to be angry," thought the emperor, and there came out the nightingale.
it sang so beautifully that one could scarcely utter a cross word against it.
"superbe!
charmant!"
said the ladies-in-waiting, for they all chattered french, each one worse than the other.
"how much the bird reminds me of the musical snuff-box of the late empress!"
said an old courtier.
"ah, yes, it is the same tone, the same execution!"
"yes," said the emperor; and then he wept like a little child."
i hope that this, at least, is not real?"
asked the princess.
"yes, it is a real bird," said those who had brought it.
"then let the bird fly away," said the princess; and she would not on any account allow the prince to come.
"but he was nothing daunted.
he painted his face brown and black, drew his cap well over his face, and knocked at the door.
"good-day, emperor," he said.
"can i get a place here as servant in the castle?"
"yes," said the emperor, "but there are so many who ask for a place that i do n't know whether there will be one for you; but, still, i will think of you.
stay, it has just occurred to me that i want someone to look after the swine, for i have so very many of them."
and the prince got the situation of imperial swineherd.
he had a wretched little room close to the pigsties; here he had to stay, but the whole day he sat working, and when evening was come he had made a pretty little pot.
all round it were little bells, and when the pot boiled they jingled most beautifully and played the old tune -- "where is augustus dear?
alas!
he's not here, here, here!"
but the most wonderful thing was, that when one held one's finger in the steam of the pot, then at once one could smell what dinner was ready in any fire-place in the town.
that was indeed something quite different from the rose.
now the princess came walking past with all her ladies-in-waiting, and when she heard the tune she stood still and her face beamed with joy, for she also could play "where is augustus dear?"
it was the only tune she knew, but that she could play with one finger.
"why, that is what i play!"
she said.
"he must be a most accomplished swineherd!
listen!
go down and ask him what the instrument costs."
and one of the ladies-in-waiting had to go down; but she put on wooden clogs.
"what will you take for the pot?"
asked the lady-in-waiting."
i will have ten kisses from the princess," answered the swineherd.
"heaven forbid!"
said the lady-in-waiting.
"yes, i will sell it for nothing less," replied the swineherd.
"well, what does he say?"
asked the princess."
i really hardly like to tell you," answered the lady-in-waiting.
"oh, then you can whisper it to me."
"he is disobliging!"
said the princess, and went away.
but she had only gone a few steps when the bells rang out so prettily -- "where is augustus dear?
alas!
he's not here, here, here."
"listen!"
said the princess.
"ask him whether he will take ten kisses from my ladies-in-waiting."
"no, thank you," said the swineherd.
"ten kisses from the princess, or else i keep my pot."
"that is very tiresome!"
said the princess.
"but you must put yourselves in front of me, so that no one can see."
and the ladies-in-waiting placed themselves in front and then spread out their dresses; so the swineherd got his ten kisses, and she got the pot.
what happiness that was!
the whole night and the whole day the pot was made to boil; there was not a fire-place in the whole town where they did not know what was being cooked, whether it was at the chancellor's or at the shoemaker's.
the ladies-in-waiting danced and clapped their hands.
"we know who is going to have soup and pancakes; we know who is going to have porridge and sausages -- is n't it interesting?"
"yes, very interesting!"
said the first lady-in-waiting.
"but do n't say anything about it, for i am the emperor's daughter."
"oh, no, of course we wo n't!"
said everyone.
the swineherd -- that is to say, the prince -lrb- though they did not know he was anything but a true swineherd -rrb- -- let no day pass without making something, and one day he made a rattle which, when it was turned round, played all the waltzes, galops, and polkas which had ever been known since the world began.
"but that is superbe!"
said the princess as she passed by."
i have never heard a more beautiful composition.
listen!
go down and ask him what this instrument costs; but i wo n't kiss him again."
"he wants a hundred kisses from the princess," said the lady-in-waiting who had gone down to ask him."
i believe he is mad!"
said the princess, and then she went on; but she had only gone a few steps when she stopped.
"one ought to encourage art," she said."
i am the emperor's daughter!
tell him he shall have, as before, ten kisses; the rest he can take from my ladies-in-waiting."
"but we do n't at all like being kissed by him," said the ladies-in-waiting.
"that's nonsense," said the princess; "and if i can kiss him, you can too.
besides, remember that i give you board and lodging."
so the ladies-in-waiting had to go down to him again."
a hundred kisses from the princess," said he, "or each keeps his own."
"put yourselves in front of us," she said then; and so all the ladies-in-waiting put themselves in front, and he began to kiss the princess.
"what can that commotion be by the pigsties?"
asked the emperor, who was standing on the balcony.
he rubbed his eyes and put on his spectacles.
"why those are the ladies-in-waiting playing their games; i must go down to them."
so he took off his shoes, which were shoes though he had trodden them down into slippers.
what a hurry he was in, to be sure!
as soon as he came into the yard he walked very softly, and the ladies-in-waiting were so busy counting the kisses and seeing fair play that they never noticed the emperor.
he stood on tiptoe.
"what is that?"
he said, when he saw the kissing; and then he threw one of his slippers at their heads just as the swineherd was taking his eighty-sixth kiss.
"be off with you!"
said the emperor, for he was very angry.
and the princess and the swineherd were driven out of the empire.
then she stood still and wept; the swineherd was scolding, and the rain was streaming down.
"alas, what an unhappy creature i am!"
sobbed the princess.
"if only i had taken the beautiful prince!
alas, how unfortunate i am!"
and the swineherd went behind a tree, washed the black and brown off his face, threw away his old clothes, and then stepped forward in his splendid dress, looking so beautiful that the princess was obliged to courtesy."
i now come to this.
i despise you!"
he said.
"you would have nothing to do with a noble prince; you did not understand the rose or the nightingale, but you could kiss the swineherd for the sake of a toy.
this is what you get for it!"
and he went into his kingdom and shut the door in her face, and she had to stay outside singing -- "where's my augustus dear?
alas!
he's not here, here, here!
how to tell a true princess there was once upon a time a prince who wanted to marry a princess, but she must be a true princess.
so he travelled through the whole world to find one, but there was always something against each.
there were plenty of princesses, but he could not find out if they were true princesses.
in every case there was some little defect, which showed the genuine article was not yet found.
so he came home again in very low spirits, for he had wanted very much to have a true princess.
one night there was a dreadful storm; it thundered and lightened and the rain streamed down in torrents.
it was fearful!
there was a knocking heard at the palace gate, and the old king went to open it.
there stood a princess outside the gate; but oh, in what a sad plight she was from the rain and the storm!
the water was running down from her hair and her dress into the points of her shoes and out at the heels again.
and yet she said she was a true princess!
"well, we shall soon find that!"
thought the old queen.
but she said nothing, and went into the sleeping-room, took off all the bed-clothes, and laid a pea on the bottom of the bed.
then she put twenty mattresses on top of the pea, and twenty eider-down quilts on the top of the mattresses.
and this was the bed in which the princess was to sleep.
the next morning she was asked how she had slept.
"oh, very badly!"
said the princess."
i scarcely closed my eyes all night!
i am sure i do n't know what was in the bed.
i laid on something so hard that my whole body is black and blue.
it is dreadful!"
now they perceived that she was a true princess, because she had felt the pea through the twenty mattresses and the twenty eider-down quilts.
no one but a true princess could be so sensitive.
so the prince married her, for now he knew that at last he had got hold of a true princess.
and the pea was put into the royal museum, where it is still to be seen if no one has stolen it.
now this is a true story.
the blue mountains there were once a scotsman and an englishman and an irishman serving in the army together, who took it into their heads to run away on the first opportunity they could get.
the chance came and they took it.
they went on travelling for two days through a great forest, without food or drink, and without coming across a single house, and every night they had to climb up into the trees through fear of the wild beasts that were in the wood.
on the second morning the scotsman saw from the top of his tree a great castle far away.
he said to himself that he would certainly die if he stayed in the forest without anything to eat but the roots of grass, which would not keep him alive very long.
as soon, then, as he got down out of the tree he set off towards the castle, without so much as telling his companions that he had seen it at all; perhaps the hunger and want they had suffered had changed their nature so much that the one did not care what became of the other if he could save himself.
he travelled on most of the day, so that it was quite late when he reached the castle, and to his great disappointment found nothing but closed doors and no smoke rising from the chimneys.
he thought there was nothing for it but to die after all, and had lain down beside the wall, when he heard a window being opened high above him.
at this he looked up, and saw the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes on.
"oh, it is fortune that has sent you to me," he said.
"it is indeed," said she.
"what are you in need of, or what has sent you here?"
"necessity," said he."
i am dying for want of food and drink."
"come inside, then," she said; "there is plenty of both here."
accordingly he went in to where she was, and she opened a large room for him, where he saw a number of men lying asleep.
she then set food before him, and after that showed him to the room where the others were.
he lay down on one of the beds and fell sound asleep.
and now we must go back to the two that he left behind him in the wood.
when nightfall and the time of the wild beasts came upon these, the englishman happened to climb up into the very same tree on which the scotsman was when he got a sight of the castle; and as soon as the day began to dawn and the englishman looked to the four quarters of heaven, what did he see but the castle too!
off he went without saying a word to the irishman, and everything happened to him just as it had done to the scotsman.
the poor irishman was now left all alone, and did not know where the others had gone to, so he just stayed where he was, very sad and miserable.
when night came he climbed up into the same tree as the englishman had been on the night before.
as soon as day came he also saw the castle, and set out towards it; but when he reached it he could see no signs of fire or living being about it.
before long, however, he heard the window opened above his head, looked up, and beheld the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
he asked if she would give him food and drink, and she answered kindly and heartily that she would, if he would only come inside.
this he did very willingly, and she set before him food and drink that he had never seen the like of before.
in the room there was a bed, with diamond rings hanging at every loop of the curtains, and everything that was in the room besides astonished him so much that he actually forgot that he was hungry.
when she saw that he was not eating at all, she asked him what he wanted yet, to which he replied that he would neither eat nor drink until he knew who she was, or where she came from, or who had put her there."
i shall tell you that," said she."
i am an enchanted princess, and my father has promised that the man who releases me from the spell shall have the third of his kingdom while he is alive, and the whole of it after he is dead, and marry me as well.
if ever i saw a man who looked likely to do this, you are the one.
i have been here for sixteen years now, and no one who ever came to the castle has asked me who i was, except yourself.
every other man that has come, so long as i have been here, lies asleep in the big room down there."
"tell me, then," said the irishman, "what is the spell that has been laid on you, and how you can be freed from it."
"there is a little room there," said the princess, "and if i could get a man to stay in it from ten o'clock till midnight for three nights on end i should be freed from the spell.'"
i am the man for you, then," said he;" i will take on hand to do it."
thereupon she brought him a pipe and tobacco, and he went into the room; but before long he heard a hammering and knocking on the outside of the door, and was told to open it."
i wo n't," he said.
the next moment the door came flying in, and those outside along with it.
they knocked him down, and kicked him, and knelt on his body till it came to midnight; but as soon as the cock crew they all disappeared.
the irishman was little more than alive by this time.
as soon as daylight appeared the princess came, and found him lying full length on the floor, unable to speak a word.
she took a bottle, rubbed him from head to foot with something from it, and thereupon he was as sound as ever; but after what he had got that night he was very unwilling to try it a second time.
the princess, however, entreated him to stay, saying that the next night would not be so bad, and in the end he gave in and stayed.
when it was getting near midnight he heard them ordering him to open the door, and there were three of them for every one that there had been the previous evening.
he did not make the slightest movement to go out to them or to open the door, but before long they broke it up, and were in on top of him.
they laid hold of him, and kept throwing him between them up to the ceiling, or jumping above him, until the cock crew, when they all disappeared.
when day came the princess went to the room to see if he was still alive, and taking the bottle put it to his nostrils, which soon brought him to himself.
the first thing he said then was that he was a fool to go on getting himself killed for anyone he ever saw, and was determined to be off and stay there no longer, when the princess learned his intention she entreated him to stay, reminding him that another night would free her from the spell.
"besides," she said, "if there is a single spark of life in you when the day comes, the stuff that is in this bottle will make you as sound as ever you were."
with all this the irishman decided to stay; but that night there were three at him for every one that was there the two nights before, and it looked very unlikely that he would be alive in the morning after all that he got.
when morning dawned, and the princess came to see if he was still alive, she found him lying on the floor as if dead.
she tried to see if there was breath in him, but could not quite make it out.
then she put her hand on his pulse, and found a faint movement in it.
accordingly she poured what was in the bottle on him, and before long he rose up on his feet, and was as well as ever he was.
so that business was finished, and the princess was freed from the spell.
the princess then told the irishman that she must go away for the present, but would return for him in a few days in a carriage drawn by four grey horses.
he told her to "be aisy," and not speak like that to him."
i have paid dear for you for the last three nights," he said, "if i have to part with you now;" but in the twinkling of an eye she had disappeared.
he did not know what to do with himself when he saw that she was gone, but before she went she had given him a little rod, with which he could, when he pleased, waken the men who had been sleeping there, some of them for sixteen years.
after being thus left alone, he went in and stretched himself on three chairs that were in the room, when what does he see coming in at the door but a little fair-haired lad.
"where did you come from, my lad?"
said the irishman."
i came to make ready your food for you," said he.
"who told you to do that?"
said the irishman.
"my mistress," answered the lad -- "the princess that was under the spell and is now free."
by this the irishman knew that she had sent the lad to wait on him.
the lad also told him that his mistress wished him to be ready next morning at nine o'clock, when she would come for him with the carriage, as she had promised.
he was greatly pleased at this, and next morning, when the time was drawing near, went out into the garden; but the little fair-haired lad took a big pin out of his pocket, and stuck it into the back of the irishman's coat without his noticing it, whereupon he fell sound asleep.
before long the princess came with the carriage and four horses, and asked the lad whether his master was awake.
he said that he was n't.
"it is bad for him," said she, "when the night is not long enough for him to sleep.
tell him that if he does n't meet me at this time to-morrow it is not likely that he will ever see me again all his life."
as soon as she was gone the lad took the pin out of his master's coat, who instantly awoke.
the first word he said to the lad was, "have you seen her?"
"yes," said he, "and she bade me tell you that if you do n't meet her at nine o'clock to-morrow you will never see her again."
he was very sorry when he heard this, and could not understand why the sleep should have fallen upon him just when she was coming.
he decided, however, to go early to bed that night, in order to rise in time nest morning, and so he did.
when it was getting near nine o'clock he went out to the garden to wait till she came, and the fair-haired lad along with him; but as soon as the lad got the chance he stuck the pin into his master's coat again and he fell asleep as before.
precisely at nine o'clock came the princess in the carriage with four horses, and asked the lad if his master had got up yet; but he said "no, he was asleep, just as he was the day before."
"dear!
dear!"
said the princess," i am sorry for him.
was the sleep he had last night not enough for him?
tell him that he will never see me here again; and here is a sword that you will give him in my name, and my blessing along with it."
with this she went off, and as soon as she had gone the lad took the pin out of his master's coat.
he awoke instantly, and the first word he said was, "have you seen her?"
the lad said that he had, and there was the sword she had left for him.
the irishman was ready to kill the lad out of sheer vexation, but when he gave a glance over his shoulder not a trace of the fair-haired lad was left.
being thus left all alone, he thought of going into the room where all the men were lying asleep, and there among the rest he found his two comrades who had deserted along with him.
then he remembered what the princess had told him -- that he had only to touch them with the rod she had given him and they would all awake; and the first he touched were his own comrades.
they started to their feet at once, and he gave them as much silver and gold as they could carry when they went away.
there was plenty to do before he got all the others wakened, for the two doors of the castle were crowded with them all the day long.
the loss of the princess, however, kept rankling in his mind day and night, till finally he thought he would go about the world to see if he could find anyone to give him news of her.
so he took the best horse in the stable and set out.
three years he spent travelling through forests and wildernesses, but could find no one able to tell him anything of the princess.
at last he fell into so great despair that he thought he would put an end to his own life, and for this purpose laid hold of the sword that she had given him by the hands of the fair-haired lad; but on drawing it from its sheath he noticed that there was some writing on one side of the blade.
he looked at this, and read there, "you will find me in the blue mountains."
this made him take heart again, and he gave up the idea of killing himself, thinking that he would go on in hope of meeting some one who could tell him where the blue mountains were.
after he had gone a long way without thinking where he was going, he saw at last a light far away, and made straight for it.
on reaching it he found it came from a little house, and as soon as the man inside heard the noise of the horse's feet he came out to see who was there.
seeing a stranger on horseback, he asked what brought him there and where he was going."
i have lived here," said he, "for three hundred years, and all that time i have not seen a single human being but yourself.'"
i have been going about for the last three years," said the irishman, "to see if i could find anyone who can tell me where the blue mountains are."
"come in," said the old man, "and stay with me all night.
i have a book which contains the history of the world, which i shall go through to-night, and if there is such a place as the blue mountains in it we shall find it out."
the irishman stayed there all night, and as soon as morning came rose to go.
the old man said he had not gone to sleep all night for going through the book, but there was not a word about the blue mountains in it.
"but i'll tell you what," he said, "if there is such a place on earth at all, i have a brother who lives nine hundred miles from here, and he is sure to know where they are, if anyone in this world does."
the irishman answered that he could never go these nine hundred miles, for his horse was giving in already.
"that does n't matter," said the old man;" i can do better than that.
i have only to blow my whistle and you will be at my brother's house before nightfall."
so he blew the whistle, and the irishman did not know where on earth he was until he found himself at the other old man's door, who also told him that it was three hundred years since he had seen anyone, and asked him where he was going."
i am going to see if i can find anyone that can tell me where the blue mountains are," he said.
"if you will stay with me to-night," said the old man," i have a book of the history of the world, and i shall know where they are before daylight, if there is such a place in it at all."
he stayed there all night, but there was not a word in the book about the blue mountains.
seeing that he was rather cast down, the old man told him that he had a brother nine hundred miles away, and that if information could be got about them from anyone it would be from him; "and i will enable you," he said, "to reach the place where he lives before night."
so he blew his whistle, and the irishman landed at the brother's house before nightfall.
when the old man saw him he said he had not seen a single man for three hundred years, and was very much surprised to see anyone come to him now.
"where are you going to?"
he said."
i am going about asking for the blue mountains," said the irishman.
"the blue mountains?"
said the old man.
"yes," said the irishman."
i never heard the name before; but if they do exist i shall find them out.
i am master of all the birds in the world, and have only to blow my whistle and every one will come to me.
i shall then ask each of them to tell where it came from, and if there is any way of finding out the blue mountains that is it."
so he blew his whistle, and when he blew it then all the birds of the world began to gather.
the old man questioned each of them as to where they had come from, but there was not one of them that had come from the blue mountains.
after he had run over them all, however, he missed a big eagle that was wanting, and wondered that it had not come.
soon afterwards he saw something big coming towards him, darkening the sky.
it kept coming nearer and growing bigger, and what was this after all but the eagle?
when she arrived the old man scolded her, and asked what had kept her so long behind."
i could n't help it," she said;" i had more than twenty times further to come than any bird that has come here to-day."
"where have you come from, then?"
said the old man.
"from the blue mountains," said she.
"indeed!"
said the old man; and what are they doing there?"
"they are making ready this very day," said the eagle, "for the marriage of the daughter of the king of the blue mountains.
for three years now she has refused to marry anyone whatsoever, until she should give up all hope of the coming of the man who released her from the spell.
now she can wait no longer, for three years is the time that she agreed with her father to remain without marrying."
the irishman knew that it was for himself she had been waiting so long, but he was unable to make any better of it, for he had no hope of reaching the blue mountains all his life.
the old man noticed how sad he grew, and asked the eagle what she would take for carrying this man on her back to the blue mountains."
i must have threescore cattle killed," said she, "and cut up into quarters, and every time i look over my shoulder he must throw one of them into my mouth."
as soon as the irishman and the old man heard her demand they went out hunting, and before evening they had killed three-score cattle.
they made quarters of them, as the eagle told them, and then the old man asked her to lie down, till they would get it all heaped up on her back.
first of all, though, they had to get a ladder of fourteen steps, to enable them to get on to the eagle's back, and there they piled up the meat as well as they could.
then the old man told the irishman to mount, and to remember to throw a quarter of beef to her every time she looked round.
he went up, and the old man gave the eagle the word to be off, which she instantly obeyed; and every time she turned her head the irishman threw a quarter of beef into her mouth.
as they came near the borders of the kingdom of the blue mountains, however, the beef was done, and, when the eagle looked over her shoulder, what was the irishman at but throwing the stone between her tail and her neck!
at this she turned a complete somersault, and threw the irishman off into the sea, where he fell into the bay that was right in front of the king's palace.
fortunately the points of his toes just touched the bottom, and he managed to get ashore.
when he went up into the town all the streets were gleaming with light, and the wedding of the princess was just about to begin.
he went into the first house he came to, and this happened to be the house of the king's hen-wife.
he asked the old woman what was causing all the noise and light in the town.
"the princess," said she, "is going to be married to-night against her will, for she has been expecting every day that the man who freed her from the spell would come."
"there is a guinea for you," said he; "go and bring her here."
the old woman went, and soon returned along with the princess.
she and the irishman recognised each other, and were married, and had a great wedding that lasted for a year and a day.
the tinder-box a soldier came marching along the high road -- left, right!
a left, right!
he had his knapsack on his back and a sword by his side, for he had been to the wars and was now returning home.
an old witch met him on the road.
she was very ugly to look at: her under-lip hung down to her breast.
"good evening, soldier!"
she said.
"what a fine sword and knapsack you have!
you are something like a soldier!
you ought to have as much money as you would like to carry!"
"thank you, old witch," said the soldier.
"do you see that great tree there?"
said the witch, pointing to a tree beside them.
"it is hollow within.
you must climb up to the top, and then you will see a hole through which you can let yourself down into the tree.
i will tie a rope round your waist, so that i may be able to pull you up again when you call."
"what shall i do down there?"
asked the soldier.
"get money!"
answered the witch.
"listen!
when you reach the bottom of the tree you will find yourself in a large hall; it is light there, for there are more than three hundred lamps burning.
then you will see three doors, which you can open -- the keys are in the locks.
if you go into the first room, you will see a great chest in the middle of the floor with a dog sitting upon it; he has eyes as large as saucers, but you need n't trouble about him.
i will give you my blue-check apron, which you must spread out on the floor, and then go back quickly and fetch the dog and set him upon it; open the chest and take as much money as you like.
it is copper there.
if you would rather have silver, you must go into the next room, where there is a dog with eyes as large as mill-wheels.
but do n't take any notice of him; just set him upon my apron, and help yourself to the money.
if you prefer gold, you can get that too, if you go into the third room, and as much as you like to carry.
but the dog that guards the chest there has eyes as large as the round tower at copenhagen!
he is a savage dog, i can tell you; but you need n't be afraid of him either.
only, put him on my apron and he wo n't touch you, and you can take out of the chest as much gold as you like!"
"come, this is not bad!"
said the soldier.
"but what am i to give you, old witch; for surely you are not going to do this for nothing?"
"yes, i am!"
replied the witch.
"not a single farthing will i take!
for me you shall bring nothing but an old tinder-box which my grandmother forgot last time she was down there."
"well, tie the rope round my waist!
"said the soldier.
"here it is," said the witch, "and here is my blue-check apron."
then the soldier climbed up the tree, let himself down through the hole, and found himself standing, as the witch had said, underground in the large hall, where the three hundred lamps were burning.
well, he opened the first door.
ugh!
there sat the dog with eyes as big as saucers glaring at him.
"you are a fine fellow!"
said the soldier, and put him on the witch's apron, took as much copper as his pockets could hold; then he shut the chest, put the dog on it again, and went into the second room.
sure enough there sat the dog with eyes as large as mill-wheels.
"you had better not look at me so hard!"
said the soldier.
"your eyes will come out of their sockets!"
and then he set the dog on the apron.
when he saw all the silver in the chest, he threw away the copper he had taken, and filled his pockets and knapsack with nothing but silver.
then he went into the third room.
horrors!
the dog there had two eyes, each as large as the round tower at copenhagen, spinning round in his head like wheels.
"good evening!"
said the soldier and saluted, for he had never seen a dog like this before.
but when he had examined him more closely, he thought to himself: "now then, i've had enough of this!"
and put him down on the floor, and opened the chest.
heavens!
what a heap of gold there was!
with all that he could buy up the whole town, and all the sugar pigs, all the tin soldiers, whips and rocking-horses in the whole world.
now he threw away all the silver with which he had filled his pockets and knapsack, and filled them with gold instead -- yes, all his pockets, his knapsack, cap and boots even, so that he could hardly walk.
now he was rich indeed.
he put the dog back upon the chest, shut the door, and then called up through the tree: "now pull me up again, old witch!"
"have you got the tinder-box also?"
asked the witch.
"botheration!"
said the soldier," i had clean forgotten it!"
and then he went back and fetched it.
the witch pulled him up, and there he stood again on the high road, with pockets, knapsack, cap and boots filled with gold.
"what do you want to do with the tinder-box?"
asked the soldier.
"that does n't matter to you," replied the witch.
"you have got your money, give me my tinder-box."
"we'll see!"
said the soldier.
"tell me at once what you want to do with it, or i will draw my sword, and cut off your head!"
"no!"
screamed the witch.
the soldier immediately cut off her head.
that was the end of her!
but he tied up all his gold in her apron, slung it like a bundle over his shoulder, put the tinder-box in his pocket, and set out towards the town.
it was a splendid town!
he turned into the finest inn, ordered the best chamber and his favourite dinner; for now that he had so much money he was really rich.
it certainly occurred to the servant who had to clean his boots that they were astonishingly old boots for such a rich lord.
but that was because he had not yet bought new ones; next day he appeared in respectable boots and fine clothes.
now, instead of a common soldier he had become a noble lord, and the people told him about all the grand doings of the town and the king, and what a beautiful princess his daughter was.
"how can one get to see her?"
asked the soldier.
"she is never to be seen at all!"
they told him; "she lives in a great copper castle, surrounded by many walls and towers!
no one except the king may go in or out, for it is prophesied that she will marry a common soldier, and the king can not submit to that.'"
i should very much like to see her," thought the soldier; but he could not get permission.
now he lived very gaily, went to the theatre, drove in the king's garden, and gave the poor a great deal of money, which was very nice of him; he had experienced in former times how hard it is not to have a farthing in the world.
now he was rich, wore fine clothes, and made many friends, who all said that he was an excellent man, a real nobleman.
and the soldier liked that.
but as he was always spending money, and never made any more, at last the day came when he had nothing left but two shillings, and he had to leave the beautiful rooms in which he had been living, and go into a little attic under the roof, and clean his own boots, and mend them with a darning-needle.
none of his friends came to visit him there, for there were too many stairs to climb.
it was a dark evening, and he could not even buy a light.
but all at once it flashed across him that there was a little end of tinder in the tinder-box, which he had taken from the hollow tree into which the witch had helped him down.
he found the box with the tinder in it; but just as he was kindling a light, and had struck a spark out of the tinder-box, the door burst open, and the dog with eyes as large as saucers, which he had seen down in the tree, stood before him and said: "what does my lord command?"
"what's the meaning of this?"
exclaimed the soldier.
"this is a pretty kind of tinder-box, if i can get whatever i want like this.
get me money!"
he cried to the dog, and hey, presto!
he was off and back again, holding a great purse full of money in his mouth.
now the soldier knew what a capital tinder-box this was.
if he rubbed once, the dog that sat on the chest of copper appeared; if he rubbed twice, there came the dog that watched over the silver chest; and if he rubbed three times, the one that guarded the gold appeared.
now, the soldier went down again to his beautiful rooms, and appeared once more in splendid clothes.
all his friends immediately recognised him again, and paid him great court.
one day he thought to himself: "it is very strange that no one can get to see the princess.
they all say she is very pretty, but what's the use of that if she has to sit for ever in the great copper castle with all the towers?
can i not manage to see her somehow?
where is my tinder-box?"
and so he struck a spark, and, presto!
there came the dog with eyes as large as saucers.
"it is the middle of the night, i know," said the soldier; "but i should very much like to see the princess for a moment."
the dog was already outside the door, and before the soldier could look round, in he came with the princess.
she was lying asleep on the dog's back, and was so beautiful that anyone could see she was a real princess.
the soldier really could not refrain from kissing her -- he was such a thorough soldier.
then the dog ran back with the princess.
but when it was morning, and the king and queen were drinking tea, the princess said that the night before she had had such a strange dream about a dog and a soldier: she had ridden on the dog's back, and the soldier had kissed her.
"that is certainly a fine story," said the queen.
but the next night one of the ladies-in-waiting was to watch at the princess's bed, to see if it was only a dream, or if it had actually happened.
the soldier had an overpowering longing to see the princess again, and so the dog came in the middle of the night and fetched her, running as fast as he could.
but the lady-in-waiting slipped on india-rubber shoes and followed them.
when she saw them disappear into a large house, she thought to herself: "now i know where it is; "and made a great cross on the door with a piece of chalk.
then she went home and lay down, and the dog came back also, with the princess.
but when he saw that a cross had been made on the door of the house where the soldier lived, he took a piece of chalk also, and made crosses on all the doors in the town; and that was very clever, for now the lady-in-waiting could not find the right house, as there were crosses on all the doors.
early next morning the king, queen, ladies-in-waiting, and officers came out to see where the princess had been.
"there it is!"
said the king, when he saw the first door with a cross on it.
"no, there it is, my dear!"
said the queen, when she likewise saw a door with a cross.
"but here is one, and there is another!"
they all exclaimed; wherever they looked there was a cross on the door.
then they realised that the sign would not help them at all.
but the queen was an extremely clever woman, who could do a great deal more than just drive in a coach.
she took her great golden scissors, cut up a piece of silk, and made a pretty little bag of it.
this she filled with the finest buckwheat grains, and tied it round the princess" neck; this done, she cut a little hole in the bag, so that the grains would strew the whole road wherever the princess went.
in the night the dog came again, took the princess on his back and ran away with her to the soldier, who was very much in love with her, and would have liked to have been a prince, so that he might have had her for his wife.
the dog did not notice how the grains were strewn right from the castle to the soldier's window, where he ran up the wall with the princess.
in the morning the king and the queen saw plainly where their daughter had been, and they took the soldier and put him into prison.
there he sat.
oh, how dark and dull it was there!
and they told him: "to-morrow you are to be hanged."
hearing that did not exactly cheer him, and he had left his tinder-box in the inn.
next morning he could see through the iron grating in front of his little window how the people were hurrying out of the town to see him hanged.
he heard the drums and saw the soldiers marching; all the people were running to and fro.
just below his window was a shoemaker's apprentice, with leather apron and shoes; he was skipping along so merrily that one of his shoes flew off and fell against the wall, just where the soldier was sitting peeping through the iron grating.
"oh, shoemaker's boy, you need n't be in such a hurry!"
said the soldier to him.
"there's nothing going on till i arrive.
but if you will run back to the house where i lived, and fetch me my tinder-box, i will give you four shillings.
but you must put your best foot foremost."
the shoemaker's boy was very willing to earn four shillings, and fetched the tinder-box, gave it to the soldier, and -- yes -- now you shall hear.
outside the town a great scaffold had been erected, and all round were standing the soldiers, and hundreds of thousands of people.
the king and queen were sitting on a magnificent throne opposite the judges and the whole council.
the soldier was already standing on the top of the ladder; but when they wanted to put the rope round his neck, he said that the fulfilment of one innocent request was always granted to a poor criminal before he underwent his punishment.
he would so much like to smoke a small pipe of tobacco; it would be his last pipe in this world.
the king could not refuse him this, and so he took out his tinder-box, and rubbed it once, twice, three times.
and lo, and behold i there stood all three dogs -- the one with eyes as large as saucers, the second with eyes as large as mill-wheels, and the third with eyes each as large as the round tower of copenhagen.
"help me now, so that i may not be hanged!"
cried the soldier.
and thereupon the dogs fell upon the judges and the whole council, seized some by the legs, others by the nose, and threw them so high into the air that they fell and were smashed into pieces."
i wo n't stand this!"
said the king; but the largest dog seized him too, and the queen as well, and threw them up after the others.
this frightened the soldiers, and all the people cried: "good soldier, you shall be our king, and marry the beautiful princess!"
then they put the soldier into the king's coach, and the three dogs danced in front, crying "hurrah!"
and the boys whistled and the soldiers presented arms.
the princess came out of the copper castle, and became queen; and that pleased her very much.
the wedding festivities lasted for eight days, and the dogs sat at table and made eyes at everyone.
the witch in the stone boat -lrb- 31 -rrb- -lrb- 31 -rrb- from the icelandic.
there were once a king and a queen, and they had a son called sigurd, who was very strong and active, and good-looking.
when the king came to be bowed down with the weight of years he spoke to his son, and said that now it was time for him to look out for a fitting match for himself, for he did not know how long he might last now, and he would like to see him married before he died.
sigurd was not averse to this, and asked his father where he thought it best to look for a wife.
the king answered that in a certain country there was a king who had a beautiful daughter, and he thought it would be most desirable if sigurd could get her.
so the two parted, and sigurd prepared for the journey, and went to where his father had directed him.
he came to the king and asked his daughter's hand, which he readily granted him, but only on the condition that he should remain there as long as he could, for the king himself was not strong and not very able to govern his kingdom.
sigurd accepted this condition, but added that he would have to get leave to go home again to his own country when he heard news of his father's death.
after that sigurd married the princess, and helped his father-in-law to govern the kingdom.
he and the princess loved each other dearly, and after a year a son came to them, who was two years old when word came to sigurd that his father was dead.
sigurd now prepared to return home with his wife and child, and went on board ship to go by sea.
they had sailed for several days, when the breeze suddenly fell, and there came a dead calm, at a time when they needed only one day's voyage to reach home.
sigurd and his queen were one day on deck, when most of the others on the ship had fallen asleep.
there they sat and talked for a while, and had their little son along with them.
after a time sigurd became so heavy with sleep that he could no longer keep awake, so he went below and lay down, leaving the queen alone on the deck, playing with her son.
a good while after sigurd had gone below the queen saw something black on the sea, which seemed to be coming nearer.
as it approached she could make out that it was a boat, and could see the figure of some one sitting in it and rowing it.
at last the boat came alongside the ship, and now the queen saw that it was a stone boat, out of which there came up on board the ship a fearfully ugly witch.
the queen was more frightened than words can describe, and could neither speak a word nor move from the place so as to awaken the king or the sailors.
the witch came right up to the queen, took the child from her and laid it on the deck; then she took the queen, and stripped her of all her fine clothes, which she proceeded to put on herself, and looked then like a human being.
last of all she took the queen, put her into the boat, and said -- "this spell i lay upon you, that you slacken not your course until you come to my brother in the underworld."
the queen sat stunned and motionless, but the boat at once shot away from the ship with her, and before long she was out of sight.
when the boat could no longer be seen the child began to cry, and though the witch tried to quiet it she could not manage it; so she went below to where the king was sleeping with the child on her arm, and awakened him, scolding him for leaving them alone on deck, while he and all the crew were asleep.
it was great carelessness of him, she said, to leave no one to watch the ship with her.
sigurd was greatly surprised to hear his queen scold him so much, for she had never said an angry word to him before; but he thought it was quite excusable in this case, and tried to quiet the child along with her, but it was no use.
then he went and wakened the sailors, and bade them hoist the sails, for a breeze had sprung up and was blowing straight towards the harbour.
they soon reached the land which sigurd was to rule over, and found all the people sorrowful for the old king's death, but they became glad when they got sigurd back to the court, and made him king over them.
the king's son, however, hardly ever stopped crying from the time he had been taken from his mother on the deck of the ship, although he had always been such a good child before, so that at last the king had to get a nurse for him -- one of the maids of the court.
as soon as the child got into her charge he stopped crying, and behaved well as before.
after the sea-voyage it seemed to the king that the queen had altered very much in many ways, and not for the better.
he thought her much more haughty and stubborn and difficult to deal with than she used to be.
before long others began to notice this as well as the king.
in the court there were two young fellows, one of eighteen years old, the other of nineteen, who were very fond of playing chess, and often sat long inside playing at it.
their room was next the queen's, and often during the day they heard the queen talking.
one day they paid more attention than usual when they heard her talk, and put their ears close to a crack in the wall between the rooms, and heard the queen say quite plainly, "when i yawn a little, then i am a nice little maiden; when i yawn half-way, then i am half a troll; and when i yawn fully, then i am a troll altogether."
as she said this she yawned tremendously, and in a moment had put on the appearance of a fearfully ugly troll.
then there came up through the floor of the room a three-headed giant with a trough full of meat, who saluted her as his sister and set down the trough before her.
she began to eat out of it, and never stopped till she had finished it.
the young fellows saw all this going on, but did not hear the two of them say anything to each other.
they were astonished though at how greedily the queen devoured the meat, and how much she ate of it, and were no longer surprised that she took so little when she sat at table with the king.
as soon as she had finished it the giant disappeared with the trough by the same way as he had come, and the queen returned to her human shape.
now we must go back to the king's son after he had been put in charge of the nurse.
one evening, after she had lit a candle and was holding the child, several planks sprang up in the floor of the room, and out at the opening came a beautiful woman dressed in white, with an iron belt round her waist, to which was fastened an iron chain that went down into the ground.
the woman came up to the nurse, took the child from her, and pressed it to her breast; then she gave it back to the nurse and returned by the same way as she had come, and the floor closed over her again.
although the woman had not spoken a single word to her, the nurse was very much frightened, but told no one about it.
next evening the same thing happened again, just as before, but as the woman was going away she said in a sad tone, "two are gone, and one only is left," and then disappeared as before.
the nurse was still more frightened when she heard the woman say this, and thought that perhaps some danger was hanging over the child, though she had no ill-opinion of the unknown woman, who, indeed, had behaved towards the child as if it were her own.
the most mysterious thing was the woman saying "and only one is left;" but the nurse guessed that this must mean that only one day was left, since she had come for two days already.
at last the nurse made up her mind to go to the king, and told him the whole story, and asked him to be present in person next day about the time when the woman usually came.
the king promised to do so, and came to the nurse's room a little before the time, and sat down on a chair with his drawn sword in his hand.
soon after the planks in the floor sprang up as before, and the woman came up, dressed in white, with the iron belt and chain.
the king saw at once that it was his own queen, and immediately hewed asunder the iron chain that was fastened to the belt.
this was followed by such noises and crashings down in the earth that all the king's palace shook, so that no one expected anything else than to see every bit of it shaken to pieces.
at last, however, the noises and shaking stopped, and they began to come to themselves again.
the king and queen embraced each other, and she told him the whole story -- how the witch came to the ship when they were all asleep and sent her off in the boat.
after she had gone so far that she could not see the ship, she sailed on through darkness until she landed beside a three-headed giant.
the giant wished her to marry him, but she refused; whereupon he shut her up by herself, and told her she would never get free until she consented.
after a time she began to plan how to get her freedom, and at last told him that she would consent if he would allow her to visit her son on earth three days on end.
this he agreed to, but put on her this iron belt and chain, the other end of which he fastened round his own waist, and the great noises that were heard when the king cut the chain must have been caused by the giant's falling down the underground passage when the chain gave way so suddenly.
the giant's dwelling, indeed, was right under the palace, and the terrible shakings must have been caused by him in his death-throes.
the king now understood how the queen he had had for some time past had been so ill-tempered.
he at once had a sack drawn over her head and made her be stoned to death, and after that torn in pieces by untamed horses.
the two young fellows also told now what they had heard and seen in the queen's room, for before this they had been afraid to say anything about it, on account of the queen's power.
the real queen was now restored to all her dignity, and was beloved by all.
the nurse was married to a nobleman, and the king and queen gave her splendid presents.
thumbelina there was once a woman who wanted to have quite a tiny, little child, but she did not know where to get one from.
so one day she went to an old witch and said to her: "i should so much like to have a tiny, little child; can you tell me where i can get one?"
"oh, we have just got one ready!"
said the witch.
"here is a barley-corn for you, but it's not the kind the farmer sows in his field, or feeds the cocks and hens with, i can tell you.
put it in a flower-pot, and then you will see something happen."
"oh, thank you!"
said the woman, and gave the witch a shilling, for that was what it cost.
then she went home and planted the barley-corn; immediately there grew out of it a large and beautiful flower, which looked like a tulip, but the petals were tightly closed as if it were still only a bud.
"what a beautiful flower!"
exclaimed the woman, and she kissed the red and yellow petals; but as she kissed them the flower burst open.
it was a real tulip, such as one can see any day; but in the middle of the blossom, on the green velvety petals, sat a little girl, quite tiny, trim, and pretty.
she was scarcely half a thumb in height; so they called her thumbelina.
an elegant polished walnut-shell served thumbelina as a cradle, the blue petals of a violet were her mattress, and a rose-leaf her coverlid.
there she lay at night, but in the day-time she used to play about on the table; here the woman had put a bowl, surrounded by a ring of flowers, with their stalks in water, in the middle of which floated a great tulip pedal, and on this thumbelina sat, and sailed from one side of the bowl to the other, rowing herself with two white horse-hairs for oars.
it was such a pretty sight!
she could sing, too, with a voice more soft and sweet than had ever been heard before.
one night, when she was lying in her pretty little bed, an old toad crept in through a broken pane in the window.
she was very ugly, clumsy, and clammy; she hopped on to the table where thumbelina lay asleep under the red rose-leaf.
"this would make a beautiful wife for my son," said the toad, taking up the walnut-shell, with thumbelina inside, and hopping with it through the window into the garden.
there flowed a great wide stream, with slippery and marshy banks; here the toad lived with her son.
ugh!
how ugly and clammy he was, just like his mother!
"croak, croak, croak!"
was all he could say when he saw the pretty little girl in the walnut-shell.
"do n't talk so load, or you'll wake her," said the old toad.
"she might escape us even now; she is as light as a feather.
we will put her at once on a broad water-lily leaf in the stream.
that will be quite an island for her; she is so small and light.
she ca n't run away from us there, whilst we are preparing the guest-chamber under the marsh where she shall live."
outside in the brook grew many water-lilies, with broad green leaves, which looked as if they were swimming about on the water.
the leaf farthest away was the largest, and to this the old toad swam with thumbelina in her walnut-shell.
the tiny thumbelina woke up very early in the morning, and when she saw where she was she began to cry bitterly; for on every side of the great green leaf was water, and she could not get to the land.
the old toad was down under the marsh, decorating her room with rushes and yellow marigold leaves, to make it very grand for her new daughter-in-law; then she swam out with her ugly son to the leaf where thumbelina lay.
she wanted to fetch the pretty cradle to put it into her room before thumbelina herself came there.
the old toad bowed low in the water before her, and said: "here is my son; you shall marry him, and live in great magnificence down under the marsh."
"croak, croak, croak!"
was all that the son could say.
then they took the neat little cradle and swam away with it; but thumbelina sat alone on the great green leaf and wept, for she did not want to live with the clammy toad, or marry her ugly son.
the little fishes swimming about under the water had seen the toad quite plainly, and heard what she had said; so they put up their heads to see the little girl.
when they saw her, they thought her so pretty that they were very sorry she should go down with the ugly toad to live.
no; that must not happen.
they assembled in the water round the green stalk which supported the leaf on which she was sitting, and nibbled the stem in two.
away floated the leaf down the stream, bearing thumbelina far beyond the reach of the toad.
on she sailed past several towns, and the little birds sitting in the bushes saw her, and sang, "what a pretty little girl!"
the leaf floated farther and farther away; thus thumbelina left her native land.
a beautiful little white butterfly fluttered above her, and at last settled on the leaf.
thumbelina pleased him, and she, too, was delighted, for now the toads could not reach her, and it was so beautiful where she was travelling; the sun shone on the water and made it sparkle like the brightest silver.
she took off her sash, and tied one end round the butterfly; the other end she fastened to the leaf, so that now it glided along with her faster than ever.
a great cockchafer came flying past; he caught sight of thumbelina, and in a moment had put his arms round her slender waist, and had flown off with her to a tree.
the green leaf floated away down the stream, and the butterfly with it, for he was fastened to the leaf and could not get loose from it.
oh, dear!
how terrified poor little thumbelina was when the cockchafer flew off with her to the tree!
but she was especially distressed on the beautiful white butterfly's account, as she had tied him fast, so that if he could not get away he must starve to death.
but the cockchafer did not trouble himself about that; he sat down with her on a large green leaf, gave her the honey out of the flowers to eat, and told her that she was very pretty, although she was n't in the least like a cockchafer.
later on, all the other cockchafers who lived in the same tree came to pay calls; they examined thumbelina closely, and remarked, "why, she has only two legs!
how very miserable!"
"she has no feelers!"
cried another.
"how ugly she is!"
said all the lady chafers -- and yet thumbelina was really very pretty.
the cockchafer who had stolen her knew this very well; but when he heard all the ladies saying she was ugly, he began to think so too, and would not keep her; she might go wherever she liked.
so he flew down from the tree with her and put her on a daisy.
there she sat and wept, because she was so ugly that the cockchafer would have nothing to do with her; and yet she was the most beautiful creature imaginable, so soft and delicate, like the loveliest rose-leaf.
the whole summer poor little thumbelina lived alone in the great wood.
she plaited a bed for herself of blades of grass, and hung it up under a clover-leaf, so that she was protected from the rain; she gathered honey from the flowers for food, and drank the dew on the leaves every morning.
thus the summer and autumn passed, but then came winter -- the long, cold winter.
all the birds who had sung so sweetly about her had flown away; the trees shed their leaves, the flowers died; the great clover-leaf under which she had lived curled up, and nothing remained of it but the withered stalk.
she was terribly cold, for her clothes were ragged, and she herself was so small and thin.
poor little thumbelina!
she would surely be frozen to death.
it began to snow, and every snow-flake that fell on her was to her as a whole shovelful thrown on one of us, for we are so big, and she was only an inch high.
she wrapt herself round in a dead leaf, but it was torn in the middle and gave her no warmth; she was trembling with cold.
just outside the wood where she was now living lay a great corn-field.
but the corn had been gone a long time; only the dry, bare stubble was left standing in the frozen ground.
this made a forest for her to wander about in.
all at once she came across the door of a field-mouse, who had a little hole under a corn-stalk.
there the mouse lived warm and snug, with a store-room full of corn, a splendid kitchen and dining-room.
poor little thumbelina went up to the door and begged for a little piece of barley, for she had not had anything to eat for the last two days.
"poor little creature!"
said the field-mouse, for she was a kind-hearted old thing at the bottom.
"come into my warm room and have some dinner with me."
as thumbelina pleased her, she said: "as far as i am concerned you may spend the winter with me; but you must keep my room clean and tidy, and tell me stories, for i like that very much."
and thumbelina did all that the kind old field-mouse asked, and did it remarkably well too.
"now i am expecting a visitor," said the field-mouse; "my neighbour comes to call on me once a week.
he is in better circumstances than i am, has great, big rooms, and wears a fine black-velvet coat.
if you could only marry him, you would be well provided for.
but he is blind.
you must tell him all the prettiest stories you know."
but thumbelina did not trouble her head about him, for he was only a mole.
he came and paid them a visit in his black-velvet coat.
"he is so rich and so accomplished," the field-mouse told her.
"his house is twenty times larger than mine; he possesses great knowledge, but he can not bear the sun and the beautiful flowers, and speaks slightingly of them, for he has never seen them."
thumbelina had to sing to him, so she sang "lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away home!"
and other songs so prettily that the mole fell in love with her; but he did not say anything, he was a very cautious man.
a short time before he had dug a long passage through the ground from his own house to that of his neighbour; in this he gave the field-mouse and thumbelina permission to walk as often as they liked.
but he begged them not to be afraid of the dead bird that lay in the passage: it was a real bird with beak and feathers, and must have died a little time ago, and now laid buried just where he had made his tunnel.
the mole took a piece of rotten wood in his mouth, for that glows like fire in the dark, and went in front, lighting them through the long dark passage.
when they came to the place where the dead bird lay, the mole put his broad nose against the ceiling and pushed a hole through, so that the daylight could shine down.
in the middle of the path lay a dead swallow, his pretty wings pressed close to his sides, his claws and head drawn under his feathers; the poor bird had evidently died of cold.
thumbelina was very sorry, for she was very fond of all little birds; they had sung and twittered so beautifully to her all through the summer.
but the mole kicked him with his bandy legs and said: "now he ca n't sing any more!
it must be very miserable to be a little bird!
i'm thankful that none of my little children are; birds always starve in winter."
"yes, you speak like a sensible man," said the field-mouse.
"what has a bird, in spite of all his singing, in the winter-time?
he must starve and freeze, and that must be very pleasant for him, i must say!"
thumbelina did not say anything; but when the other two had passed on she bent down to the bird, brushed aside the feathers from his head, and kissed his closed eyes gently.
"perhaps it was he that sang to me so prettily in the summer," she thought.
"how much pleasure he did give me, dear little bird!"
the mole closed up the hole again which let in the light, and then escorted the ladies home.
but thumbelina could not sleep that night; so she got out of bed, and plaited a great big blanket of straw, and carried it off, and spread it over the dead bird, and piled upon it thistle-down as soft as cotton-wool, which she had found in the field-mouse's room, so that the poor little thing should lie warmly buried.
"farewell, pretty little bird!"
she said.
"farewell, and thank you for your beautiful songs in the summer, when the trees were green, and the sun shone down warmly on us!"
then she laid her head against the bird's heart.
but the bird was not dead: he had been frozen, but now that she had warmed him, he was coming to life again.
in autumn the swallows fly away to foreign lands; but there are some who are late in starting, and then they get so cold that they drop down as if dead, and the snow comes and covers them over.
thumbelina trembled, she was so frightened; for the bird was very large in comparison with herself -- only an inch high.
but she took courage, piled up the down more closely over the poor swallow, fetched her own coverlid and laid it over his head.
next night she crept out again to him.
there he was alive, but very weak; he could only open his eyes for a moment and look at thumbelina, who was standing in front of him with a piece of rotten wood in her hand, for she had no other lantern.
"thank you, pretty little child!"
said the swallow to her."
i am so beautifully warm!
soon i shall regain my strength, and then i shall be able to fly out again into the warm sunshine."
"oh!"
she said, "it is very cold outside; it is snowing and freezing!
stay in your warm bed; i will take care of you!"
then she brought him water in a petal, which he drank, after which he related to her how he had torn one of his wings on a bramble, so that he could not fly as fast as the other swallows, who had flown far away to warmer lands.
so at last he had dropped down exhausted, and then he could remember no more.
the whole winter he remained down there, and thumbelina looked after him and nursed him tenderly.
neither the mole nor the field-mouse learnt anything of this, for they could not bear the poor swallow.
when the spring came, and the sun warmed the earth again, the swallow said farewell to thumbelina, who opened the hole in the roof for him which the mole had made.
the sun shone brightly down upon her, and the swallow asked her if she would go with him; she could sit upon his back.
thumbelina wanted very much to fly far away into the green wood, but she knew that the old field-mouse would be sad if she ran away.
"no, i must n't come!"
she said.
"farewell, dear good little girl!"
said the swallow, and flew off into the sunshine.
thumbelina gazed after him with the tears standing in her eyes, for she was very fond of the swallow.
"tweet, tweet!"
sang the bird, and flew into the green wood.
thumbelina was very unhappy.
she was not allowed to go out into the warm sunshine.
the corn which had been sowed in the field over the field-mouse's home grew up high into the air, and made a thick forest for the poor little girl, who was only an inch high.
"now you are to be a bride, thumbelina!"
said the field-mouse, "for our neighbour has proposed for you!
what a piece of fortune for a poor child like you!
now you must set to work at your linen for your dowry, for nothing must be lacking if you are to become the wife of our neighbour, the mole!"
thumbelina had to spin all day long, and every evening the mole visited her, and told her that when the summer was over the sun would not shine so hot; now it was burning the earth as hard as a stone.
yes, when the summer had passed, they would keep the wedding.
but she was not at all pleased about it, for she did not like the stupid mole.
every morning when the sun was rising, and every evening when it was setting, she would steal out of the house-door, and when the breeze parted the ears of corn so that she could see the blue sky through them, she thought how bright and beautiful it must be outside, and longed to see her dear swallow again.
but he never came; no doubt he had flown away far into the great green wood.
by the autumn thumbelina had finished the dowry.
"in four weeks you will be married!"
said the field-mouse; "do n't be obstinate, or i shall bite you with my sharp white teeth!
you will get a fine husband!
the king himself has not such a velvet coat.
his store-room and cellar are full, and you should be thankful for that."
well, the wedding-day arrived.
the mole had come to fetch thumbelina to live with him deep down under the ground, never to come out into the warm sun again, for that was what he did n't like.
the poor little girl was very sad; for now she must say good-bye to the beautiful sun.
"farewell, bright sun!"
she cried, stretching out her arms towards it, and taking another step outside the house; for now the corn had been reaped, and only the dry stubble was left standing.
"farewell, farewell!"
she said, and put her arms round a little red flower that grew there.
"give my love to the dear swallow when you see him!"
"tweet, tweet!"
sounded in her ear all at once.
she looked up.
there was the swallow flying past!
as soon as he saw thumbelina, he was very glad.
she told him how unwilling she was to marry the ugly mole, as then she had to live underground where the sun never shone, and she could not help bursting into tears.
"the cold winter is coming now," said the swallow."
i must fly away to warmer lands: will you come with me?
you can sit on my back, and we will fly far away from the ugly mole and his dark house, over the mountains, to the warm countries where the sun shines more brightly than here, where it is always summer, and there are always beautiful flowers.
do come with me, dear little thumbelina, who saved my life when i lay frozen in the dark tunnel!"
"yes, i will go with you," said thumbelina, and got on the swallow's back, with her feet on one of his outstretched wings.
up he flew into the air, over woods and seas, over the great mountains where the snow is always lying.
and if she was cold she crept under his warm feathers, only keeping her little head out to admire all the beautiful things in the world beneath.
at last they came to warm lands; there the sun was brighter, the sky seemed twice as high, and in the hedges hung the finest green and purple grapes; in the woods grew oranges and lemons: the air was scented with myrtle and mint, and on the roads were pretty little children running about and playing with great gorgeous butterflies.
but the swallow flew on farther, and it became more and more beautiful.
under the most splendid green trees besides a blue lake stood a glittering white-marble castle.
vines hung about the high pillars; there were many swallows" nests, and in one of these lived the swallow who was carrying thumbelina.
"here is my house!"
said he.
"but it wo n't do for you to live with me; i am not tidy enough to please you.
find a home for yourself in one of the lovely flowers that grow down there; now i will set you down, and you can do whatever you like."
"that will be splendid!"
said she, clapping her little hands.
there lay a great white marble column which had fallen to the ground and broken into three pieces, but between these grew the most beautiful white flowers.
the swallow flew down with thumbelina, and set her upon one of the broad leaves.
but there, to her astonishment, she found a tiny little man sitting in the middle of the flower, as white and transparent as if he were made of glass; he had the prettiest golden crown on his head, and the most beautiful wings on his shoulders; he himself was no bigger than thumbelina.
he was the spirit of the flower.
in each blossom there dwelt a tiny man or woman; but this one was the king over the others.
"how handsome he is!"
whispered thumbelina to the swallow.
the little prince was very much frightened at the swallow, for in comparison with one so tiny as himself he seemed a giant.
but when he saw thumbelina, he was delighted, for she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.
so he took his golden crown from off his head and put it on hers, asking her her name, and if she would be his wife, and then she would be queen of all the flowers.
yes!
he was a different kind of husband to the son of the toad and the mole with the black-velvet coat.
so she said "yes" to the noble prince.
and out of each flower came a lady and gentleman, each so tiny and pretty that it was a pleasure to see them.
each brought thumbelina a present, but the best of all was a beautiful pair of wings which were fastened on to her back, and now she too could fly from flower to flower.
they all wished her joy, and the swallow sat above in his nest and sang the wedding march, and that he did as well as he could; but he was sad, because he was very fond of thumbelina and did not want to be separated from her.
"you shall not be called thumbelina!"
said the spirit of the flower to her; "that is an ugly name, and you are much too pretty for that.
we will call you may blossom."
"farewell, farewell!"
said the little swallow with a heavy heart, and flew away to farther lands, far, far away, right back to denmark.
there he had a little nest above a window, where his wife lived, who can tell fairy-stories.
"tweet, tweet!"
he sang to her.
and that is the way we learnt the whole story.
the nightingale in china, as i daresay you know, the emperor is a chinaman, and all his courtiers are also chinamen.
the story i am going to tell you happened many years ago, but it is worth while for you to listen to it, before it is forgotten.
the emperor's palace was the most splendid in the world, all made of priceless porcelain, but so brittle and delicate that you had to take great care how you touched it.
in the garden were the most beautiful flowers, and on the loveliest of them were tied silver bells which tinkled, so that if you passed you could not help looking at the flowers.
everything in the emperor's garden was admirably arranged with a view to effect; and the garden was so large that even the gardener himself did not know where it ended.
if you ever got beyond it, you came to a stately forest with great trees and deep lakes in it.
the forest sloped down to the sea, which was a clear blue.
large ships could sail under the boughs of the trees, and in these trees there lived a nightingale.
she sang so beautifully that even the poor fisherman who had so much to do stood and listened when he came at night to cast his nets.
"how beautiful it is!"
he said; but he had to attend to his work, and forgot about the bird.
but when she sang the next night and the fisherman came there again, he said the same thing, "how beautiful it is!"
from all the countries round came travellers to the emperor's town, who were astonished at the palace and the garden.
but when they heard the nightingale they all said, "this is the finest thing after all!"
the travellers told all about it when they went home, and learned scholars wrote many books upon the town, the palace, and the garden.
but they did not forget the nightingale; she was praised the most, and all the poets composed splendid verses on the nightingale in the forest by the deep sea.
the books were circulated throughout the world, and some of them reached the emperor.
he sat in his golden chair, and read and read.
he nodded his head every moment, for he liked reading the brilliant accounts of the town, the palace, and the garden.
"but the nightingale is better than all," he saw written.
"what is that?"
said the emperor."
i do n't know anything about the nightingale!
is there such a bird in my empire, and so near as in my garden?
i have never heard it!
fancy reading for the first time about it in a book!"
and he called his first lord to him.
he was so proud that if anyone of lower rank than his own ventured to speak to him or ask him anything, he would say nothing but "p!"
and that does not mean anything.
"here is a most remarkable bird which is called a nightingale!"
said the emperor.
"they say it is the most glorious thing in my kingdom.
why has no one ever said anything to me about it?'"
i have never before heard it mentioned!"
said the first lord."
i will look for it and find it!"
but where was it to be found?
the first lord ran up and down stairs, through the halls and corridors; but none of those he met had ever heard of the nightingale.
and the first lord ran again to the emperor, and told him that it must be an invention on the part of those who had written the books.
"your imperial majesty can not really believe all that is written!
there are some inventions called the black art!"
"but the book in which i read this," said the emperor, "is sent me by his great majesty the emperor of japan; so it can not be untrue, and i will hear the nightingale!
she must be here this evening!
she has my gracious permission to appear, and if she does not, the whole court shall be trampled under foot after supper!"
"tsing pe!"
said the first lord; and he ran up and down stairs, through the halls and corridors, and half the court ran with him, for they did not want to be trampled under foot.
everyone was asking after the wonderful nightingale which all the world knew of, except those at court.
at last they met a poor little girl in the kitchen, who said, "oh!
i know the nightingale well.
how she sings!
i have permission to carry the scraps over from the court meals to my poor sick mother, and when i am going home at night, tired and weary, and rest for a little in the wood, then i hear the nightingale singing!
it brings tears to my eyes, and i feel as if my mother were kissing me!"
"little kitchenmaid!"
said the first lord," i will give you a place in the kitchen, and you shall have leave to see the emperor at dinner, if you can lead us to the nightingale, for she is invited to come to court this evening."
and so they all went into the wood where the nightingale was wont to sing, and half the court went too.
when they were on the way there they heard a cow mooing.
"oh!"
said the courtiers, "now we have found her!
what a wonderful power for such a small beast to have!
i am sure we have heard her before!"
"no; that is a cow mooing!"
said the little kitchenmaid.
"we are still a long way off!"
then the frogs began to croak in the marsh.
"splendid!"
said the chinese chaplain.
"now we hear her; it sounds like a little church-bell!"
"no, no; those are frogs!"
said the little kitchenmaid.
"but i think we shall soon hear her now!"
then the nightingale began to sing.
"there she is!"
cried the little girl.
"listen!
she is sitting there!"
and she pointed to a little dark-grey bird up in the branches.
"is it possible!"
said the first lord."
i should never have thought it!
how ordinary she looks!
she must surely have lost her feathers because she sees so many distinguished men round her!"
"little nightingale," called out the little kitchenmaid, "our gracious emperor wants you to sing before him!"
"with the greatest of pleasure!"
said the nightingale; and she sang so gloriously that it was a pleasure to listen.
"it sounds like glass bells!"
said the first lord.
"and look how her little throat works!
it is wonderful that we have never heard her before!
she will be a great success at court."
"shall i sing once more for the emperor?"
asked the nightingale, thinking that the emperor was there.
"my esteemed little nightingale," said the first lord," i have the great pleasure to invite you to court this evening, where his gracious imperial highness will be enchanted with your charming song!"
"it sounds best in the green wood," said the nightingale; but still, she came gladly when she heard that the emperor wished it.
at the palace everything was splendidly prepared.
the porcelain walls and floors glittered in the light of many thousand gold lamps; the most gorgeous flowers which tinkled out well were placed in the corridors.
there was such a hurrying and draught that all the bells jingled so much that one could not hear oneself speak.
in the centre of the great hall where the emperor sat was a golden perch, on which the nightingale sat.
the whole court was there, and the little kitchenmaid was allowed to stand behind the door, now that she was a court-cook.
everyone was dressed in his best, and everyone was looking towards the little grey bird to whom the emperor nodded.
the nightingale sang so gloriously that the tears came into the emperor's eyes and ran down his cheeks.
then the nightingale sang even more beautifully; it went straight to all hearts.
the emperor was so delighted that he said she should wear his gold slipper round her neck.
but the nightingale thanked him, and said she had had enough reward already."
i have seen tears in the emperor's eyes -- that is a great reward.
an emperor's tears have such power!"
then she sang again with her gloriously sweet voice.
"that is the most charming coquetry i have ever seen!"
said all the ladies round.
and they all took to holding water in their mouths that they might gurgle whenever anyone spoke to them.
then they thought themselves nightingales.
yes, the lackeys and chambermaids announced that they were pleased; which means a great deal, for they are the most difficult people of all to satisfy.
in short, the nightingale was a real success.
she had to stay at court now; she had her own cage, and permission to walk out twice in the day and once at night.
she was given twelve servants, who each held a silken string which was fastened round her leg.
there was little pleasure in flying about like this.
the whole town was talking about the wonderful bird, and when two people met each other one would say "nightin," and the other "gale," and then they would both sigh and understand one another.
yes, and eleven grocer's children were called after her, but not one of them could sing a note.
one day the emperor received a large parcel on which was written "the nightingale."
"here is another new book about our famous bird!"
said the emperor.
but it was not a book, but a little mechanical toy, which lay in a box -- an artificial nightingale which was like the real one, only that it was set all over with diamonds, rubies, and sapphires.
when it was wound up, it could sing the piece the real bird sang, and moved its tail up and down, and glittered with silver and gold.
round its neck was a little collar on which was written, "the nightingale of the emperor of japan is nothing compared to that of the emperor of china."
"this is magnificent!"
they all said, and the man who had brought the clockwork bird received on the spot the title of "bringer of the imperial first nightingale."
"now they must sing together; what a duet we shall have!"
and so they sang together, but their voices did not blend, for the real nightingale sang in her way and the clockwork bird sang waltzes.
"it is not its fault!"
said the bandmaster; "it keeps very good time and is quite after my style!"
then the artificial bird had to sing alone.
it gave just as much pleasure as the real one, and then it was so much prettier to look at; it sparkled like bracelets and necklaces.
three-and-thirty times it sang the same piece without being tired.
people would like to have heard it again, but the emperor thought that the living nightingale should sing now -- but where was she?
no one had noticed that she had flown out of the open window away to her green woods.
"what shall we do!"
said the emperor.
and all the court scolded, and said that the nightingale was very ungrateful.
"but we have still the best bird!"
they said and the artificial bird had to sing again, and that was the thirty-fourth time they had heard the same piece.
but they did not yet know it by heart; it was much too difficult.
and the bandmaster praised the bird tremendously; yes, he assured them it was better than a real nightingale, not only because of its beautiful plumage and diamonds, but inside as well.
"for see, my lords and ladies and your imperial majesty, with the real nightingale one can never tell what will come out, but all is known about the artificial bird!
you can explain it, you can open it and show people where the waltzes lie, how they go, and how one follows the other!"
"that's just what we think!"
said everyone; and the bandmaster received permission to show the bird to the people the next sunday.
they should hear it sing, commanded the emperor.
and they heard it, and they were as pleased as if they had been intoxicated with tea, after the chinese fashion, and they all said "oh!"
and held up their forefingers and nodded time.
but the poor fishermen who had heard the real nightingale said: "this one sings well enough, the tunes glide out; but there is something wanting -- i do n't know what!"
the real nightingale was banished from the kingdom.
the artificial bird was put on silken cushions by the emperor's bed, all the presents which it received, gold and precious stones, lay round it, and it was given the title of imperial night-singer, first from the left.
for the emperor counted that side as the more distinguished, being the side on which the heart is; the emperor's heart is also on the left.
and the bandmaster wrote a work of twenty-five volumes about the artificial bird.
it was so learned, long, and so full of the hardest chinese words that everyone said they had read it and understood it; for once they had been very stupid about a book, and had been trampled under foot in consequence.
so a whole year passed.
the emperor, the court, and all the chinese knew every note of the artificial bird's song by heart.
but they liked it all the better for this; they could even sing with it, and they did.
the street boys sang "tra-la-la-la-la, and the emperor sang too sometimes.
it was indeed delightful.
but one evening, when the artificial bird was singing its best, and the emperor lay in bed listening to it, something in the bird went crack.
something snapped!
whir-r-r!
all the wheels ran down and then the music ceased.
the emperor sprang up, and had his physician summoned, but what could he do!
then the clockmaker came, and, after a great deal of talking and examining, he put the bird somewhat in order, but he said that it must be very seldom used as the works were nearly worn out, and it was impossible to put in new ones.
here was a calamity!
only once a year was the artificial bird allowed to sing, and even that was almost too much for it.
but then the bandmaster made a little speech full of hard words, saying that it was just as good as before.
and so, of course, it was just as good as before.
so five years passed, and then a great sorrow came to the nation.
the chinese look upon their emperor as everything, and now he was ill, and not likely to live it was said.
already a new emperor had been chosen, and the people stood outside in the street and asked the first lord how the old emperor was.
"p!"
said he, and shook his head.
cold and pale lay the emperor in his splendid great bed; the whole court believed him dead, and one after the other left him to pay their respects to the new emperor.
everywhere in the halls and corridors cloth was laid down so that no footstep could be heard, and everything was still -- very, very still.
and nothing came to break the silence.
the emperor longed for something to come and relieve the monotony of this deathlike stillness.
if only someone would speak to him!
if only someone would sing to him.
music would carry his thoughts away, and would break the spell lying on him.
the moon was streaming in at the open window; but that, too, was silent, quite silent.
"music!
music!"
cried the emperor.
"you little bright golden bird, sing!
do sing!
i gave you gold and jewels; i have hung my gold slipper round your neck with my own hand -- sing!
do sing!"
but the bird was silent.
there was no one to wind it up, and so it could not sing.
and all was silent, so terribly silent!
all at once there came in at the window the most glorious burst of song.
it was the little living nightingale, who, sitting outside on a bough, had heard the need of her emperor and had come to sing to him of comfort and hope.
and as she sang the blood flowed quicker and quicker in the emperor's weak limbs, and life began to return.
"thank you, thank you!"
said the emperor.
"you divine little bird!
i know you.
i chased you from my kingdom, and you have given me life again!
how can i reward you?"
"you have done that already!"
said the nightingale."
i brought tears to your eyes the first time i sang.
i shall never forget that.
they are jewels that rejoice a singer's heart.
but now sleep and get strong again; i will sing you a lullaby."
and the emperor fell into a deep, calm sleep as she sang.
the sun was shining through the window when he awoke, strong and well.
none of his servants had come back yet, for they thought he was dead.
but the nightingale sat and sang to him.
"you must always stay with me!"
said the emperor.
"you shall sing whenever you like, and i will break the artificial bird into a thousand pieces."
"do n't do that!"
said the nightingale.
"he did his work as long as he could.
keep him as you have done!
i can not build my nest in the palace and live here; but let me come whenever i like.
i will sit in the evening on the bough outside the window, and i will sing you something that will make you feel happy and grateful.
i will sing of joy, and of sorrow; i will sing of the evil and the good which lies hidden from you.
the little singing-bird flies all around, to the poor fisherman's hut, to the farmer's cottage, to all those who are far away from you and your court.
i love your heart more than your crown, though that has about it a brightness as of something holy.
now i will sing to you again; but you must promise me one thing --" "anything!"
said the emperor, standing up in his imperial robes, which he had himself put on, and fastening on his sword richly embossed with gold.
"one thing i beg of you!
do n't tell anyone that you have a little bird who tells you everything.
it will be much better not to!"
then the nightingale flew away.
the servants came in to look at their dead emperor.
the emperor said, "good-morning!"
hermod and hadvor -lrb- 32 -rrb- -lrb- 32 -rrb- from the icelandic.
once upon a time there were a king and a queen who had an only daughter, called hadvor, who was fair and beautiful, and being an only child, was heir to the kingdom.
the king and queen had also a foster son, named hermod, who was just about the same age as hadvor, and was good-looking, as well as clever at most things.
hermod and hadvor often played together while they were children, and liked each other so much that while they were still young they secretly plighted their troth to each other.
as time went on the queen fell sick, and suspecting that it was her last illness, sent for the king to come to her.
when he came she told him that she had no long time to live, and therefore wished to ask one thing of him, which was, that if he married another wife he should promise to take no other one than the queen of hetland the good.
the king gave the promise, and thereafter the queen died.
time went past, and the king, growing tired of living alone, fitted out his ship and sailed out to sea.
as he sailed there came upon him so thick a mist that he altogether lost his bearings, but after long trouble he found land.
there he laid his ship to, and went on shore all alone.
after walking for some time he came to a forest, into which he went a little way and stopped.
then he heard sweet music from a harp, and went in the direction of the sound until he came to a clearing, and there he saw three women, one of whom sat on a golden chair, and was beautifully and grandly dressed; she held a harp in her hands, and was very sorrowful.
the second was also finely dressed, but younger in appearance, and also sat on a chair, but it was not so grand as the first one's.
the third stood beside them, and was very pretty to look at; she had a green cloak over her other clothes, and it was easy to see that she was maid to the other two.
after the king had looked at them for a little he went forward and saluted them.
the one that sat on the golden chair asked him who he was and where he was going; and he told her all the story -- how he was a king, and had lost his queen, and was now on his way to hetland the good, to ask the queen of that country in marriage.
she answered that fortune had contrived this wonderfully, for pirates had plundered hetland and killed the king, and she had fled from the land in terror, and had come hither after great trouble, and she was the very person he was looking for, and the others were her daughter and maid.
the king immediately asked her hand; she gladly received his proposal and accepted him at once.
thereafter they all set out, and made their way to the ship; and after that nothing is told of their voyage until the king reached his own country.
there he made a great feast, and celebrated his marriage with this woman; and after that things are quiet for a time.
hermod and hadvor took but little notice of the queen and her daughter, but, on the other hand, hadvor and the queen's maid, whose name was olof, were very friendly, and olof came often to visit hadvor in her castle.
before long the king went out to war, and no sooner was he away than the queen came to talk with hermod, and said that she wanted him to marry her daughter.
hermod told her straight and plain that he would not do so, at which the queen grew terribly angry, and said that in that case neither should he have hadvor, for she would now lay this spell on him, that he should go to a desert island and there be a lion by day and a man by night.
he should also think always of hadvor, which would cause him all the more sorrow, and from this spell he should never be freed until hadvor burned the lion's skin, and that would not happen very soon.
as soon as the queen had finished her speech hermod replied that he also laid a spell on her, and that was, that as soon as he was freed from her enchantments she should become a rat and her daughter a mouse, and fight with each other in the hall until he killed them with his sword.
after this hermod disappeared, and no one knew what had become of him; the queen caused search to be made for him, but he could nowhere be found.
one time, when olof was in the castle beside hadvor, she asked the princess if she knew where hermod had gone to.
at this hadvor became very sad, and said that she did not."
i shall tell you then," said olof, "for i know all about it.
hermod has disappeared through the wicked devices of the queen, for she is a witch, and so is her daughter, though they have put on these beautiful forms.
because hermod would not fall in with the queen's plans, and marry her daughter, she has laid a spell on him, to go on an island and be a lion by day and a man by night, and never be freed from this until you burn the lion's skin.
besides," said olof, "she has looked out a match for you; she has a brother in the underworld, a three-headed giant, whom she means to turn into a beautiful prince and get him married to you.
this is no new thing for the queen; she took me away from my parents" house and compelled me to serve her; but she has never done me any harm, for the green cloak i wear protects me against all mischief.
hadvor now became still sadder than before at the thought of the marriage destined for her, and entreated olof to think of some plan to save her."
i think," said olof, "that your wooer will come up through the floor of the castle to you, and so you must be prepared when you hear the noise of his coming and the floor begins to open, and have at hand blazing pitch, and pour plenty of it into the opening.
that will prove too much for him."
about this time the king came home from his expedition, and thought it a great blow that no one knew what had become of hermod; but the queen consoled him as best she could, and after a time the king thought less about his disappearance.
hadvor remained in her castle, and had made preparations to receive her wooer when he came.
one night, not long after, a loud noise and rumbling was heard under the castle.
hadvor at once guessed what it was, and told her maids to be ready to help her.
the noise and thundering grew louder and louder, until the floor began to open, whereupon hadvor made them take the caldron of pitch and pour plenty of it into the opening.
with that the noises grew fainter and fainter, till at last they ceased altogether.
next morning the queen rose early, and went out to the palace gate, and there she found her brother the giant lying dead.
she went up to him and said," i pronounce this spell, that you become a beautiful prince, and that hadvor shall be unable to say anything against the charges that i shall bring against her."
the body of the dead giant now became that of a beautiful prince, and the queen went in again."
i do n't think," said she to the king, "that your daughter is as good as she is said to be.
my brother came and asked her hand, and she has had him put to death.
i have just found his dead body lying at the palace gate."
the king went along with the queen to see the body, and thought it all very strange; so beautiful a youth, he said, would have been a worthy match for hadvor, and he would readily have agreed to their marriage.
the queen asked leave to decide what hadvor's punishment should be, which the king was very willing to allow, so as to escape from punishing his own daughter.
the queen's decision was that the king should make a big grave-mound for her brother, and put hadvor into it beside him.
olof knew all the plans of the queen, and went to tell the princess what had been done, whereupon hadvor earnestly entreated her to tell her what to do.
"first and foremost," said olof, "you must get a wide cloak to wear over your other clothes, when you are put into the mound.
the giant's ghost will walk after you are both left together in there, and he will have two dogs along with him.
he will ask you to cut pieces out of his legs to give to the dogs, but that you must not promise to do unless he tells you where hermod has gone to, and tells you how to find him.
he will then let you stand on his shoulders, so as to get out of the mound; but he means to cheat you all the same, and will catch you by the cloak to pull you back again; but you must take care to have the cloak loose on your shoulders, so that he will only get hold of that."
the mound was all ready now, and the giant laid in it, and into it hadvor also had to go without being allowed to make any defence.
after they were both left there everything happened just as olof had said.
the prince became a giant again, and asked hadvor to cut the pieces out of his legs for the dogs; but she refused until he told her that hermod was in a desert island, which she could not reach unless she took the skin off the soles of his feet and made shoes out of that; with these shoes she could travel both on land and sea.
this hadvor now did, and the giant then let her get up on his shoulders to get out of the mound.
as she sprang out he caught hold of her cloak; but she had taken care to let it lie loose on her shoulders, and so escaped.
she now made her way down to the sea, to where she knew there was the shortest distance over to the island in which hermod was.
this strait she easily crossed, for the shoes kept her up.
on reaching the island she found a sandy beach all along by the sea, and high cliffs above.
nor could she see any way to get up these, and so, being both sad at heart and tired with the long journey, she lay down and fell asleep.
as she slept she dreamed that a tall woman came to her and said," i know that you are princess hadvor, and are searching for hermod.
he is on this island; but it will be hard for you to get to him if you have no one to help you, for you can not climb the cliffs by your own strength.
i have therefore let down a rope, by which you will be able to climb up; and as the island is so large that you might not find hermod's dwelling-place so easily, i lay down this clew beside you.
you need only hold the end of the thread, and the clew will run on before and show you the way.
i also lay this belt beside you, to put on when you awaken; it will keep you from growing faint with hunger."
the woman now disappeared, and hadvor woke, and saw that all her dream had been true.
the rope hung down from the cliff, and the clew and belt lay beside her.
the belt she put on, the rope enabled her to climb up the cliff, and the clew led her on till she came to the mouth of a cave, which was not very big.
she went into the cave, and saw there a low couch, under which she crept and lay down.
when evening came she heard the noise of footsteps outside, and became aware that the lion had come to the mouth of the cave, and shook itself there, after which she heard a man coming towards the couch.
she was sure this was hermod, because she heard him speaking to himself about his own condition, and calling to mind hadvor and other things in the old days.
hadvor made no sign, but waited till he had fallen asleep, and then crept out and burned the lion's skin, which he had left outside.
then she went back into the cave and wakened hermod, and they had a most joyful meeting.
in the morning they talked over their plans, and were most at a loss to know how to get out of the island.
hadvor told hermod her dream, and said she suspected there was some one in the island who would be able to help them.
hermod said he knew of a witch there, who was very ready to help anyone, and that the only plan was to go to her.
so they went to the witch's cave, and found her there with her fifteen young sons, and asked her to help them to get to the mainland.
"there are other things easier than that," said she, "for the giant that was buried will be waiting for you, and will attack you on the way, as he has turned himself into a big whale.
i shall lend you a boat, however, and if you meet the whale and think your lives are in danger, then you can name me by name."
they thanked her greatly for her help and advice, and set out from the island, but on the way they saw a huge fish coming towards them, with great splashing and dashing of waves.
they were sure of what it was, and thought they had as good reason as ever they would have to call on the witch, and so they did.
the next minute they saw coming after them another huge whale, followed by fifteen smaller ones.
all of these swam past the boat and went on to meet the whale.
there was a fierce battle then, and the sea became so stormy that it was not very easy to keep the boat from being filled by the waves.
after this fight had gone on for some time, they saw that the sea was dyed with blood; the big whale and the fifteen smaller ones disappeared, and they got to land safe and sound.
now the story goes back to the king's hall, where strange things had happened in the meantime.
the queen and her daughter had disappeared, but a rat and a mouse were always fighting with each other there.
ever so many people had tried to drive them away, but no one could manage it.
thus some time went on, while the king was almost beside himself with sorrow and care for the loss of his queen, and because these monsters destroyed all mirth in the hall.
one evening, however, while they all sat dull and down-hearted, in came hermod with a sword by his side, and saluted the king, who received him with the greatest joy, as if he had come back from the dead.
before hermod sat down, however, he went to where the rat and the mouse were fighting, and cut them in two with his sword.
all were astonished then by seeing two witches lying dead on the floor of the hall.
hermod now told the whole story to the king, who was very glad to be rid of such vile creatures.
next he asked for the hand of hadvor, which the king readily gave him, and being now an old man, gave the kingdom to him as well; and so hermod became king.
olof married a good-looking nobleman, and that is the end of the story.
the steadfast tin-soldier there were once upon a time five-and twenty tin-soldiers -- all brothers, as they were made out of the same old tin spoon.
their uniform was red and blue, and they shouldered their guns and looked straight in front of them.
the first words that they heard in this world, when the lid of the box in which they lay was taken off, were: "hurrah, tin-soldiers!"
this was exclaimed by a little boy, clapping his hands; they had been given to him because it was his birthday, and now he began setting them out on the table.
each soldier was exactly like the other in shape, except just one, who had been made last when the tin had run short; but there he stood as firmly on his one leg as the others did on two, and he is the one that became famous.
there were many other playthings on the table on which they were being set out, but the nicest of all was a pretty little castle made of cardboard, with windows through which you could see into the rooms.
in front of the castle stood some little trees surrounding a tiny mirror which looked like a lake.
wax swans were floating about and reflecting themselves in it.
that was all very pretty; but the most beautiful thing was a little lady, who stood in the open doorway.
she was cut out of paper, but she had on a dress of the finest muslin, with a scarf of narrow blue ribbon round her shoulders, fastened in the middle with a glittering rose made of gold paper, which was as large as her head.
the little lady was stretching out both her arms, for she was a dancer, and was lifting up one leg so high in the air that the tin-soldier could n't find it anywhere, and thought that she, too, had only one leg.
"that's the wife for me!"
he thought; "but she is so grand, and lives in a castle, whilst i have only a box with four-and-twenty others.
this is no place for her!
but i must make her acquaintance."
then he stretched himself out behind a snuff-box that lay on the table; from thence he could watch the dainty little lady, who continued to stand on one leg without losing her balance.
when the night came all the other tin-soldiers went into their box, and the people of the house went to bed.
then the toys began to play at visiting, dancing, and fighting.
the tin-soldiers rattled in their box, for they wanted to be out too, but they could not raise the lid.
the nut-crackers played at leap-frog, and the slate-pencil ran about the slate; there was such a noise that the canary woke up and began to talk to them, in poetry too!
the only two who did not stir from their places were the tin-soldier and the little dancer.
she remained on tip-toe, with both arms outstretched; he stood steadfastly on his one leg, never moving his eyes from her face.
the clock struck twelve, and crack!
off flew the lid of the snuff-box; but there was no snuff inside, only a little black imp -- that was the beauty of it.
"hullo, tin-soldier!"
said the imp.
"do n't look at things that are n't intended for the likes of you!"
but the tin-soldier took no notice, and seemed not to hear.
"very well, wait till to-morrow!"
said the imp.
when it was morning, and the children had got up, the tin-soldier was put in the window; and whether it was the wind or the little black imp, i do n't know, but all at once the window flew open and out fell the little tin-soldier, head over heels, from the third-storey window!
that was a terrible fall, i can tell you!
he landed on his head with his leg in the air, his gun being wedged between two paving-stones.
the nursery-maid and the little boy came down at once to look for him, but, though they were so near him that they almost trod on him, they did not notice him.
if the tin-soldier had only called out "here i am!"
they must have found him; but he did not think it fitting for him to cry out, because he had on his uniform.
soon it began to drizzle; then the drops came faster, and there was a regular down-pour.
when it was over, two little street boys came along.
"just look!"
cried one.
"here is a tin-soldier!
he shall sail up and down in a boat!"
so they made a little boat out of newspaper, put the tin-soldier in it, and made him sail up and down the gutter; both the boys ran along beside him, clapping their hands.
what great waves there were in the gutter, and what a swift current!
the paper-boat tossed up and down, and in the middle of the stream it went so quick that the tin-soldier trembled; but he remained steadfast, showed no emotion, looked straight in front of him, shouldering his gun.
all at once the boat passed under a long tunnel that was as dark as his box had been.
"where can i be coming now?"
he wondered.
"oh, dear!
this is the black imp's fault!
ah, if only the little lady were sitting beside me in the boat, it might be twice as dark for all i should care!"
suddenly there came along a great water-rat that lived in the tunnel.
"have you a passport?"
asked the rat.
"out with your passport!"
but the tin-soldier was silent, and grasped his gun more firmly.
the boat sped on, and the rat behind it.
ugh!
how he showed his teeth, as he cried to the chips of wood and straw: "hold him, hold him!
he has not paid the toll!
he has not shown his passport!"
but the current became swifter and stronger.
the tin-soldier could already see daylight where the tunnel ended; but in his ears there sounded a roaring enough to frighten any brave man.
only think!
at the end of the tunnel the gutter discharged itself into a great canal; that would be just as dangerous for him as it would be for us to go down a waterfall.
now he was so near to it that he could not hold on any longer.
on went the boat, the poor tin-soldier keeping himself as stiff as he could: no one should say of him afterwards that he had flinched.
the boat whirled three, four times round, and became filled to the brim with water: it began to sink!
the tin-soldier was standing up to his neck in water, and deeper and deeper sank the boat, and softer and softer grew the paper; now the water was over his head.
he was thinking of the pretty little dancer, whose face he should never see again, and there sounded in his ears, over and over again: "forward, forward, soldier bold!
death's before thee, grim and cold!"
the paper came in two, and the soldier fell -- but at that moment he was swallowed by a great fish.
oh!
how dark it was inside, even darker than in the tunnel, and it was really very close quarters!
but there the steadfast little tin-soldier lay full length, shouldering his gun.
up and down swam the fish, then he made the most dreadful contortions, and became suddenly quite still.
then it was as if a flash of lightning had passed through him; the daylight streamed in, and a voice exclaimed, "why, here is the little tin-soldier!"
the fish had been caught, taken to market, sold, and brought into the kitchen, where the cook had cut it open with a great knife.
she took up the soldier between her finger and thumb, and carried him into the room, where everyone wanted to see the hero who had been found inside a fish; but the tin-soldier was not at all proud.
they put him on the table, and -- no, but what strange things do happen in this world!
-- the tin-soldier was in the same room in which he had been before!
he saw the same children, and the same toys on the table; and there was the same grand castle with the pretty little dancer.
she was still standing on one leg with the other high in the air; she too was steadfast.
that touched the tin-soldier, he was nearly going to shed tin-tears; but that would not have been fitting for a soldier.
he looked at her, but she said nothing.
all at once one of the little boys took up the tin-soldier, and threw him into the stove, giving no reasons; but doubtless the little black imp in the snuff-box was at the bottom of this too.
there the tin-soldier lay, and felt a heat that was truly terrible; but whether he was suffering from actual fire, or from the ardour of his passion, he did not know.
all his colour had disappeared; whether this had happened on his travels or whether it was the result of trouble, who can say?
he looked at the little lady, she looked at him, and he felt that he was melting; but he remained steadfast, with his gun at his shoulder.
suddenly a door opened, the draught caught up the little dancer, and off she flew like a sylph to the tin-soldier in the stove, burst into flames -- and that was the end of her!
then the tin-soldier melted down into a little lump, and when next morning the maid was taking out the ashes, she found him in the shape of a heart.
there was nothing left of the little dancer but her gilt rose, burnt as black as a cinder.
blockhead-hans far away in the country lay an old manor-house where lived an old squire who had two sons.
they thought themselves so clever, that if they had known only half of what they did know, it would have been quite enough.
they both wanted to marry the king's daughter, for she had proclaimed that she would have for her husband the man who knew best how to choose his words.
both prepared for the wooing a whole week, which was the longest time allowed them; but, after all, it was quite long enough, for they both had preparatory knowledge, and everyone knows how useful that is.
one knew the whole latin dictionary and also three years" issue of the daily paper of the town off by heart, so that he could repeat it all backwards or forwards as you pleased.
the other had worked at the laws of corporation, and knew by heart what every member of the corporation ought to know, so that he thought he could quite well speak on state matters and give his opinion.
he understood, besides this, how to embroider braces with roses and other flowers, and scrolls, for he was very ready with his fingers."
i shall win the king's daughter!"
they both cried.
their old father gave each of them a fine horse; the one who knew the dictionary and the daily paper by heart had a black horse, while the other who was so clever at corporation law had a milk-white one.
then they oiled the corners of their mouths so that they might be able to speak more fluently.
all the servants stood in the courtyard and saw them mount their steeds, and here by chance came the third brother; for the squire had three sons, but nobody counted him with his brothers, for he was not so learned as they were, and he was generally called "blockhead-hans."
"oh, oh!"
said blockhead-hans.
"where are you off to?
you are in your sunday-best clothes!"
"we are going to court, to woo the princess!
do n't you know what is known throughout all the country side?"
and they told him all about it.
"hurrah!
i'll go to!"
cried blockhead-hans; and the brothers laughed at him and rode off.
"dear father!"
cried blockhead-hans," i must have a horse too.
what a desire for marriage has seized me!
if she will have me, she will have me, and if she wo n't have me, i will have her."
"stop that nonsense!"
said the old man."
i will not give you a horse.
you ca n't speak; you do n't know how to choose your words.
your brothers!
ah!
they are very different lads!"
"well," said blockhead-hans, "if i ca n't have a horse, i will take the goat which is mine; he can carry me!"
and he did so.
he sat astride on the goat, struck his heels into its side, and went rattling down the high-road like a hurricane.
"hoppetty hop!
what a ride!"
here i come!"
shouted blockhead-hans, singing so that the echoes were roused far and near.
but his brothers were riding slowly in front.
they were not speaking, but they were thinking over all the good things they were going to say, for everything had to be thought out.
"hullo!"
bawled blockhead-hans, "here i am!
just look what i found on the road!"
-- and he showed them a dead crow which he had picked up.
"blockhead!"
said his brothers, "what are you going to do with it?"
"with the crow?
i shall give it to the princess!"
"do so, certainly!"
they said, laughing loudly and riding on.
"slap!
bang!
here i am again!
look what i have just found!
you do n't find such things every day on the road!"
and the brothers turned round to see what in the world he could have found.
"blockhead!"
said they, "that is an old wooden shoe without the top!
are you going to send that, too, to the princess?"
"of course i shall!"
returned blockhead-hans; and the brothers laughed and rode on a good way.
"slap!
bang!
here i am!"
cried blockhead-hans; "better and better -- it is really famous!"
"what have you found now?"
asked the brothers.
"oh," said blockhead-hans, "it is really too good!
how pleased the princess will be!"
"why!"
said the brothers, "this is pure mud, straight from the ditch."
"of course it is!"
said blockhead-hans, "and it is the best kind!
look how it runs through one's fingers!"
and, so saying, he filled his pocket with the mud.
but the brothers rode on so fast that dust and sparks flew all around, and they reached the gate of the town a good hour before blockhead-hans.
here came the suitors numbered according to their arrival, and they were ranged in rows, six in each row, and they were so tightly packed that they could not move their arms.
this was a very good thing, for otherwise they would have torn each other in pieces, merely because the one was in front of the other.
all the country people were standing round the king's throne, and were crowded together in thick masses almost out of the windows to see the princess receive the suitors; and as each one came into the room all his fine phrases went out like a candle!
"it does n't matter!"
said the princess.
"away!
out with him!"
at last she came to the row in which the brother who knew the dictionary by heart was, but he did not know it any longer; he had quite forgotten it in the rank and file.
and the floor creaked, and the ceiling was all made of glass mirrors, so that he saw himself standing on his head, and by each window were standing three reporters and an editor; and each of them was writing down what was said, to publish it in the paper that came out and was sold at the street corners for a penny.
it was fearful, and they had made up the fire so hot that it was grilling.
"it is hot in here, is n't it!"
said the suitor.
"of course it is!
my father is roasting young chickens to-day!"
said the princess.
"ahem!"
there he stood like an idiot.
he was not prepared for such a speech; he did not know what to say, although he wanted to say something witty.
"ahem!"
"it does n't matter!"
said the princess.
"take him out!"
and out he had to go.
now the other brother entered.
"how hot it is!"
he said.
"of course!
we are roasting young chickens to-day!"
remarked the princess.
"how do you -- um!"
he said, and the reporters wrote down.
"how do you -- um."
"it does n't matter!"
said the princess.
"take him out!"
now blockhead-hans came in; he rode his goat right into the hall."
i say!
how roasting hot it is here!"
said he.
"of course!
i am roasting young chickens to-day!"
said the princess.
"that's good!"
replied blockhead-hans; "then can i roast a crow with them?"
"with the greatest of pleasure!"
said the princess; "but have you anything you can roast them in?
for i have neither pot nor saucepan."
"oh, rather!"
said blockhead-hans.
"here is a cooking implement with tin rings," and he drew out the old wooden shoe, and laid the crow in it.
"that is quite a meal!"
said the princess; "but where shall we get the soup from?"
"i've got that in my pocket!"
said blockhead-hans."
i have so much that i can quite well throw some away!"
and he poured some mud out of his pocket."
i like you!"
said the princess.
"you can answer, and you can speak, and i will marry you; but do you know that every word which we are saying and have said has been taken down and will be in the paper to-morrow?
by each window do you see there are standing three reporters and an old editor, and this old editor is the worst, for he does n't understand anything!"
but she only said this to tease blockhead-hans.
and the reporters giggled, and each dropped a blot of ink on the floor.
"ah!
are those the great people?"
said blockhead-hans.
"then i will give the editor the best!"
so saying, he turned his pockets inside out, and threw the mud right in his face.
"that was neatly done!"
said the princess."
i could n't have done it; but i will soon learn how to!"
blockhead-hans became king, got a wife and a crown, and sat on the throne; and this we have still damp from the newspaper of the editor and the reporters -- and they are not to be believed for a moment.
a story about a darning-needle there was once a darning-needle who thought herself so fine that she believed she was an embroidery-needle.
"take great care to hold me tight!"
said the darning-needle to the fingers who were holding her.
"do n't let me fall!
if i once fall on the ground i shall never be found again, i am so fine!"
"it is all right!"
said the fingers, seizing her round the waist.
"look, i am coming with my train!"
said the darning-needle as she drew a long thread after her; but there was no knot at the end of the thread.
the fingers were using the needle on the cook's shoe.
the upper leather was unstitched and had to be sewn together.
"this is common work!"
said the darning-needle."
i shall never get through it.
i am breaking!
i am breaking!"
and in fact she did break.
"did n't i tell you so!"
said the darning-needle."
i am too fine!"
"now she is good for nothing!"
said the fingers; but they had to hold her tight while the cook dropped some sealing-wax on the needle and stuck it in the front of her dress.
"now i am a breast-pin!"
said the darning-needle."
i always knew i should be promoted.
when one is something, one will become something!"
and she laughed to herself; you can never see when a darning-needle is laughing.
then she sat up as proudly as if she were in a state coach, and looked all round her.
"may i be allowed to ask if you are gold?"
she said to her neighbour, the pin.
"you have a very nice appearance, and a peculiar head; but it is too small!
you must take pains to make it grow, for it is not everyone who has a head of sealing-wax."
and so saying the darning-needle raised herself up so proudly that she fell out of the dress, right into the sink which the cook was rinsing out.
"now i am off on my travels!"
said the darning-needle."
i do hope i sha'n' t get lost!"
she did indeed get lost."
i am too fine for this world!"
said she as she lay in the gutter; "but i know who i am, and that is always a little satisfaction!"
and the darning-needle kept her proud bearing and did not lose her good-temper.
all kinds of things swam over her -- shavings, bits of straw, and scraps of old newspapers.
"just look how they sail along!"
said the darning-needle.
"they do n't know what is underneath them!
here i am sticking fast!
there goes a shaving thinking of nothing in the world but of itself, a mere chip!
there goes a straw -- well, how it does twist and twirl, to be sure!
do n't think so much about yourself, or you will be knocked against a stone.
there floats a bit of newspaper.
what is written on it is long ago forgotten, and yet how proud it is!
i am sitting patient and quiet.
i know who i am, and that is enough for me!"
one day something thick lay near her which glittered so brightly that the darning-needle thought it must be a diamond.
but it was a bit of bottle-glass, and because it sparkled the darning-needle spoke to it, and gave herself out as a breast-pin.
"no doubt you are a diamond?"
"yes, something of that kind!"
and each believed that the other was something very costly; and they both said how very proud the world must be of them."
i have come from a lady's work-box," said darning-needle, "and this lady was a cook; she had five fingers on each hand; anything so proud as these fingers i have never seen!
and yet they were only there to take me out of the work-box and to put me back again!"
"were they of noble birth, then?"
asked the bit of bottle-glass.
"of noble birth!"
said the darning-needle; "no indeed, but proud!
they were five brothers, all called" fingers."
they held themselves proudly one against the other, although they were of different sizes.
the outside one, the thumb, was short and fat; he was outside the rank, and had only one bend in his back, and could only make one bow; but he said that if he were cut off from a man that he was no longer any use as a soldier.
dip-into-everything, the second finger, dipped into sweet things as well as sour things, pointed to the sun and the moon, and guided the pen when they wrote.
longman, the third, looked at the others over his shoulder.
goldband, the fourth, had a gold sash round his waist; and little playman did nothing at all, and was the more proud.
there was too much ostentation, and so i came away."
"and now we are sitting and shining here!"
said the bit of bottle-glass.
at that moment more water came into the gutter; it streamed over the edges and washed the bit of bottle-glass away.
"ah!
now he has been promoted!"
said the darning-needle."
i remain here; i am too fine.
but that is my pride, which is a sign of respectability!"
and she sat there very proudly, thinking lofty thoughts."
i really believe i must have been born a sunbeam, i am so fine!
it seems to me as if the sunbeams were always looking under the water for me.
ah, i am so fine that my own mother can not find me!
if i had my old eye which broke off, i believe i could weep; but i ca n't -- it is not fine to weep!"
one day two street-urchins were playing and wading in the gutter, picking up old nails, pennies, and such things.
it was rather dirty work, but it was a great delight to them.
"oh, oh!"
cried out one, as he pricked himself with the darning-needle; "he is a fine fellow though!'"
i am not a fellow; i am a young lady!"
said the darning-needle; but no one heard.
the sealing-wax had gone, and she had become quite black; but black makes one look very slim, and so she thought she was even finer than before.
"here comes an egg-shell sailing along!"
said the boys, and they stuck the darning-needle into the egg-shell.
"the walls white and i black -- what a pretty contrast it makes!"
said the darning-needle.
"now i can be seen to advantage!
if only i am not sea-sick!
i should give myself up for lost!"
but she was not sea-sick, and did not give herself up.
"it is a good thing to be steeled against sea-sickness; here one has indeed an advantage over man!
now my qualms are over.
the finer one is the more one can beat."
"crack!"
said the egg-shell as a wagon-wheel went over it.
"oh!
how it presses!"
said the darning-needle."
i shall indeed be sea-sick now.
i am breaking!"
_book_title_: lewis_carroll___alice's_adventures_in_wonderland.txt.out
chapter i. down the rabbit-hole alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, "and what is the use of a book," thought alice "without pictures or conversation?"
so she was considering in her own mind -lrb- as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid -rrb-, whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a white rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her.
there was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the rabbit say to itself, "oh dear!
oh dear!
i shall be late!"
-lrb- when she thought it over afterwards, it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural -rrb-; but when the rabbit actually took a watch out of its waistcoat-pocket, and looked at it, and then hurried on, alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and fortunately was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge.
in another moment down went alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.
the rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep well.
either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty of time as she went down to look about her and to wonder what was going to happen next.
first, she tried to look down and make out what she was coming to, but it was too dark to see anything; then she looked at the sides of the well, and noticed that they were filled with cupboards and book-shelves; here and there she saw maps and pictures hung upon pegs.
she took down a jar from one of the shelves as she passed; it was labelled "orange marmalade", but to her great disappointment it was empty: she did not like to drop the jar for fear of killing somebody, so managed to put it into one of the cupboards as she fell past it.
"well!"
thought alice to herself, "after such a fall as this, i shall think nothing of tumbling down stairs!
how brave they'll all think me at home!
why, i would n't say anything about it, even if i fell off the top of the house!"
-lrb- which was very likely true. -rrb-
down, down, down.
would the fall never come to an end!"
i wonder how many miles i've fallen by this time?"
she said aloud."
i must be getting somewhere near the centre of the earth.
let me see: that would be four thousand miles down, i think --" -lrb- for, you see, alice had learnt several things of this sort in her lessons in the schoolroom, and though this was not a very good opportunity for showing off her knowledge, as there was no one to listen to her, still it was good practice to say it over -rrb-" -- yes, that's about the right distance -- but then i wonder what latitude or longitude i've got to?"
-lrb- alice had no idea what latitude was, or longitude either, but thought they were nice grand words to say. -rrb-
presently she began again."
i wonder if i shall fall right through the earth!
how funny it'll seem to come out among the people that walk with their heads downward!
the antipathies, i think --" -lrb- she was rather glad there was no one listening, this time, as it did n't sound at all the right word -rrb-" -- but i shall have to ask them what the name of the country is, you know.
please, ma'am, is this new zealand or australia?"
-lrb- and she tried to curtsey as she spoke -- fancy curtseying as you're falling through the air!
do you think you could manage it? -rrb-
"and what an ignorant little girl she'll think me for asking!
no, it'll never do to ask: perhaps i shall see it written up somewhere."
down, down, down.
there was nothing else to do, so alice soon began talking again.
"dinah'll miss me very much to-night, i should think!"
-lrb- dinah was the cat. -rrb-"
i hope they'll remember her saucer of milk at tea-time.
dinah my dear!
i wish you were down here with me!
there are no mice in the air, i'm afraid, but you might catch a bat, and that's very like a mouse, you know.
but do cats eat bats, i wonder?"
and here alice began to get rather sleepy, and went on saying to herself, in a dreamy sort of way, "do cats eat bats?
do cats eat bats?"
and sometimes, "do bats eat cats?"
for, you see, as she could n't answer either question, it did n't much matter which way she put it.
she felt that she was dozing off, and had just begun to dream that she was walking hand in hand with dinah, and saying to her very earnestly, "now, dinah, tell me the truth: did you ever eat a bat?"
when suddenly, thump!
thump!
down she came upon a heap of sticks and dry leaves, and the fall was over.
alice was not a bit hurt, and she jumped up on to her feet in a moment: she looked up, but it was all dark overhead; before her was another long passage, and the white rabbit was still in sight, hurrying down it.
there was not a moment to be lost: away went alice like the wind, and was just in time to hear it say, as it turned a corner, "oh my ears and whiskers, how late it's getting!"
she was close behind it when she turned the corner, but the rabbit was no longer to be seen: she found herself in a long, low hall, which was lit up by a row of lamps hanging from the roof.
there were doors all round the hall, but they were all locked; and when alice had been all the way down one side and up the other, trying every door, she walked sadly down the middle, wondering how she was ever to get out again.
suddenly she came upon a little three-legged table, all made of solid glass; there was nothing on it except a tiny golden key, and alice's first thought was that it might belong to one of the doors of the hall; but, alas!
either the locks were too large, or the key was too small, but at any rate it would not open any of them.
however, on the second time round, she came upon a low curtain she had not noticed before, and behind it was a little door about fifteen inches high: she tried the little golden key in the lock, and to her great delight it fitted!
alice opened the door and found that it led into a small passage, not much larger than a rat-hole: she knelt down and looked along the passage into the loveliest garden you ever saw.
how she longed to get out of that dark hall, and wander about among those beds of bright flowers and those cool fountains, but she could not even get her head through the doorway; "and even if my head would go through," thought poor alice, "it would be of very little use without my shoulders.
oh, how i wish i could shut up like a telescope!
i think i could, if i only know how to begin."
for, you see, so many out-of-the-way things had happened lately, that alice had begun to think that very few things indeed were really impossible.
there seemed to be no use in waiting by the little door, so she went back to the table, half hoping she might find another key on it, or at any rate a book of rules for shutting people up like telescopes: this time she found a little bottle on it, -lrb- "which certainly was not here before," said alice, -rrb- and round the neck of the bottle was a paper label, with the words "drink me" beautifully printed on it in large letters.
it was all very well to say "drink me," but the wise little alice was not going to do that in a hurry.
"no, i'll look first," she said, "and see whether it's marked "poison" or not"; for she had read several nice little histories about children who had got burnt, and eaten up by wild beasts and other unpleasant things, all because they would not remember the simple rules their friends had taught them: such as, that a red-hot poker will burn you if you hold it too long; and that if you cut your finger very deeply with a knife, it usually bleeds; and she had never forgotten that, if you drink much from a bottle marked "poison," it is almost certain to disagree with you, sooner or later.
however, this bottle was not marked "poison," so alice ventured to taste it, and finding it very nice, -lrb- it had, in fact, a sort of mixed flavour of cherry-tart, custard, pine-apple, roast turkey, toffee, and hot buttered toast, -rrb- she very soon finished it off.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * "what a curious feeling!"
said alice;" i must be shutting up like a telescope."
and so it was indeed: she was now only ten inches high, and her face brightened up at the thought that she was now the right size for going through the little door into that lovely garden.
first, however, she waited for a few minutes to see if she was going to shrink any further: she felt a little nervous about this; "for it might end, you know," said alice to herself, "in my going out altogether, like a candle.
i wonder what i should be like then?"
and she tried to fancy what the flame of a candle is like after the candle is blown out, for she could not remember ever having seen such a thing.
after a while, finding that nothing more happened, she decided on going into the garden at once; but, alas for poor alice!
when she got to the door, she found she had forgotten the little golden key, and when she went back to the table for it, she found she could not possibly reach it: she could see it quite plainly through the glass, and she tried her best to climb up one of the legs of the table, but it was too slippery; and when she had tired herself out with trying, the poor little thing sat down and cried.
"come, there's no use in crying like that!"
said alice to herself, rather sharply;" i advise you to leave off this minute!"
she generally gave herself very good advice, -lrb- though she very seldom followed it -rrb-, and sometimes she scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into her eyes; and once she remembered trying to box her own ears for having cheated herself in a game of croquet she was playing against herself, for this curious child was very fond of pretending to be two people.
"but it's no use now," thought poor alice, "to pretend to be two people!
why, there's hardly enough of me left to make one respectable person!"
soon her eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the table: she opened it, and found in it a very small cake, on which the words "eat me" were beautifully marked in currants.
"well, i'll eat it," said alice, "and if it makes me grow larger, i can reach the key; and if it makes me grow smaller, i can creep under the door; so either way i'll get into the garden, and i do n't care which happens!"
she ate a little bit, and said anxiously to herself, "which way?
which way?"
, holding her hand on the top of her head to feel which way it was growing, and she was quite surprised to find that she remained the same size: to be sure, this generally happens when one eats cake, but alice had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on in the common way.
so she set to work, and very soon finished off the cake.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * chapter ii.
the pool of tears "curiouser and curiouser!"
cried alice -lrb- she was so much surprised, that for the moment she quite forgot how to speak good english -rrb-; "now i'm opening out like the largest telescope that ever was!
good-bye, feet!"
-lrb- for when she looked down at her feet, they seemed to be almost out of sight, they were getting so far off -rrb-.
"oh, my poor little feet, i wonder who will put on your shoes and stockings for you now, dears?
i'm sure i sha n't be able!
i shall be a great deal too far off to trouble myself about you: you must manage the best way you can; -- but i must be kind to them," thought alice, "or perhaps they wo n't walk the way i want to go!
let me see: i'll give them a new pair of boots every christmas."
and she went on planning to herself how she would manage it.
"they must go by the carrier," she thought; "and how funny it'll seem, sending presents to one's own feet!
and how odd the directions will look!
alice's right foot, esq..
hearthrug, near the fender, -lrb- with alice's love -rrb-.
oh dear, what nonsense i'm talking!"
just then her head struck against the roof of the hall: in fact she was now more than nine feet high, and she at once took up the little golden key and hurried off to the garden door.
poor alice!
it was as much as she could do, lying down on one side, to look through into the garden with one eye; but to get through was more hopeless than ever: she sat down and began to cry again.
"you ought to be ashamed of yourself," said alice," a great girl like you," -lrb- she might well say this -rrb-, "to go on crying in this way!
stop this moment, i tell you!"
but she went on all the same, shedding gallons of tears, until there was a large pool all round her, about four inches deep and reaching half down the hall.
after a time she heard a little pattering of feet in the distance, and she hastily dried her eyes to see what was coming.
it was the white rabbit returning, splendidly dressed, with a pair of white kid gloves in one hand and a large fan in the other: he came trotting along in a great hurry, muttering to himself as he came, "oh!
the duchess, the duchess!
oh!
wo n't she be savage if i've kept her waiting!"
alice felt so desperate that she was ready to ask help of any one; so, when the rabbit came near her, she began, in a low, timid voice, "if you please, sir --" the rabbit started violently, dropped the white kid gloves and the fan, and skurried away into the darkness as hard as he could go.
alice took up the fan and gloves, and, as the hall was very hot, she kept fanning herself all the time she went on talking: "dear, dear!
how queer everything is to-day!
and yesterday things went on just as usual.
i wonder if i've been changed in the night?
let me think: was i the same when i got up this morning?
i almost think i can remember feeling a little different.
but if i'm not the same, the next question is, who in the world am i?
ah, that's the great puzzle!"
and she began thinking over all the children she knew that were of the same age as herself, to see if she could have been changed for any of them.
"i'm sure i'm not ada," she said, "for her hair goes in such long ringlets, and mine does n't go in ringlets at all; and i'm sure i ca n't be mabel, for i know all sorts of things, and she, oh!
she knows such a very little!
besides, she's she, and i'm i, and -- oh dear, how puzzling it all is!
i'll try if i know all the things i used to know.
let me see: four times five is twelve, and four times six is thirteen, and four times seven is -- oh dear!
i shall never get to twenty at that rate!
however, the multiplication table does n't signify: let's try geography.
london is the capital of paris, and paris is the capital of rome, and rome -- no, that's all wrong, i'm certain!
i must have been changed for mabel!
i'll try and say "how doth the little --"" and she crossed her hands on her lap as if she were saying lessons, and began to repeat it, but her voice sounded hoarse and strange, and the words did not come the same as they used to do: -- "how doth the little crocodile improve his shining tail, and pour the waters of the nile on every golden scale!
"how cheerfully he seems to grin, how neatly spread his claws, and welcome little fishes in with gently smiling jaws!"
"i'm sure those are not the right words," said poor alice, and her eyes filled with tears again as she went on," i must be mabel after all, and i shall have to go and live in that poky little house, and have next to no toys to play with, and oh!
ever so many lessons to learn!
no, i've made up my mind about it; if i'm mabel, i'll stay down here!
it'll be no use their putting their heads down and saying "come up again, dear!"
i shall only look up and say "who am i then?
tell me that first, and then, if i like being that person, i'll come up: if not, i'll stay down here till i'm somebody else" -- but, oh dear!"
cried alice, with a sudden burst of tears," i do wish they would put their heads down!
i am so very tired of being all alone here!"
as she said this she looked down at her hands, and was surprised to see that she had put on one of the rabbit's little white kid gloves while she was talking.
"how can i have done that?"
she thought."
i must be growing small again."
she got up and went to the table to measure herself by it, and found that, as nearly as she could guess, she was now about two feet high, and was going on shrinking rapidly: she soon found out that the cause of this was the fan she was holding, and she dropped it hastily, just in time to avoid shrinking away altogether.
"that was a narrow escape!"
said alice, a good deal frightened at the sudden change, but very glad to find herself still in existence; "and now for the garden!"
and she ran with all speed back to the little door: but, alas!
the little door was shut again, and the little golden key was lying on the glass table as before, "and things are worse than ever," thought the poor child, "for i never was so small as this before, never!
and i declare it's too bad, that it is!"
as she said these words her foot slipped, and in another moment, splash!
she was up to her chin in salt water.
her first idea was that she had somehow fallen into the sea, "and in that case i can go back by railway," she said to herself.
-lrb- alice had been to the seaside once in her life, and had come to the general conclusion, that wherever you go to on the english coast you find a number of bathing machines in the sea, some children digging in the sand with wooden spades, then a row of lodging houses, and behind them a railway station. -rrb-
however, she soon made out that she was in the pool of tears which she had wept when she was nine feet high."
i wish i had n't cried so much!"
said alice, as she swam about, trying to find her way out."
i shall be punished for it now, i suppose, by being drowned in my own tears!
that will be a queer thing, to be sure!
however, everything is queer to-day."
just then she heard something splashing about in the pool a little way off, and she swam nearer to make out what it was: at first she thought it must be a walrus or hippopotamus, but then she remembered how small she was now, and she soon made out that it was only a mouse that had slipped in like herself.
"would it be of any use, now," thought alice, "to speak to this mouse?
everything is so out-of-the-way down here, that i should think very likely it can talk: at any rate, there's no harm in trying."
so she began: "o mouse, do you know the way out of this pool?
i am very tired of swimming about here, o mouse!"
-lrb- alice thought this must be the right way of speaking to a mouse: she had never done such a thing before, but she remembered having seen in her brother's latin grammar," a mouse -- of a mouse -- to a mouse -- a mouse -- o mouse!" -rrb-
the mouse looked at her rather inquisitively, and seemed to her to wink with one of its little eyes, but it said nothing.
"perhaps it does n't understand english," thought alice;" i daresay it's a french mouse, come over with william the conqueror."
-lrb- for, with all her knowledge of history, alice had no very clear notion how long ago anything had happened. -rrb-
so she began again: "ou est ma chatte?"
which was the first sentence in her french lesson-book.
the mouse gave a sudden leap out of the water, and seemed to quiver all over with fright.
"oh, i beg your pardon!"
cried alice hastily, afraid that she had hurt the poor animal's feelings."
i quite forgot you did n't like cats."
"not like cats!"
cried the mouse, in a shrill, passionate voice.
"would you like cats if you were me?"
"well, perhaps not," said alice in a soothing tone: "do n't be angry about it.
and yet i wish i could show you our cat dinah: i think you'd take a fancy to cats if you could only see her.
she is such a dear quiet thing," alice went on, half to herself, as she swam lazily about in the pool, "and she sits purring so nicely by the fire, licking her paws and washing her face -- and she is such a nice soft thing to nurse -- and she's such a capital one for catching mice -- oh, i beg your pardon!"
cried alice again, for this time the mouse was bristling all over, and she felt certain it must be really offended.
"we wo n't talk about her any more if you'd rather not."
"we indeed!"
cried the mouse, who was trembling down to the end of his tail.
"as if i would talk on such a subject!
our family always hated cats: nasty, low, vulgar things!
do n't let me hear the name again!'"
i wo n't indeed!"
said alice, in a great hurry to change the subject of conversation.
"are you -- are you fond -- of -- of dogs?"
the mouse did not answer, so alice went on eagerly: "there is such a nice little dog near our house i should like to show you!
a little bright-eyed terrier, you know, with oh, such long curly brown hair!
and it'll fetch things when you throw them, and it'll sit up and beg for its dinner, and all sorts of things -- i ca n't remember half of them -- and it belongs to a farmer, you know, and he says it's so useful, it's worth a hundred pounds!
he says it kills all the rats and -- oh dear!"
cried alice in a sorrowful tone, "i'm afraid i've offended it again!"
for the mouse was swimming away from her as hard as it could go, and making quite a commotion in the pool as it went.
so she called softly after it, "mouse dear!
do come back again, and we wo n't talk about cats or dogs either, if you do n't like them!"
when the mouse heard this, it turned round and swam slowly back to her: its face was quite pale -lrb- with passion, alice thought -rrb-, and it said in a low trembling voice, "let us get to the shore, and then i'll tell you my history, and you'll understand why it is i hate cats and dogs."
it was high time to go, for the pool was getting quite crowded with the birds and animals that had fallen into it: there were a duck and a dodo, a lory and an eaglet, and several other curious creatures.
alice led the way, and the whole party swam to the shore.
chapter iii.
a caucus-race and a long tale they were indeed a queer-looking party that assembled on the bank -- the birds with draggled feathers, the animals with their fur clinging close to them, and all dripping wet, cross, and uncomfortable.
the first question of course was, how to get dry again: they had a consultation about this, and after a few minutes it seemed quite natural to alice to find herself talking familiarly with them, as if she had known them all her life.
indeed, she had quite a long argument with the lory, who at last turned sulky, and would only say," i am older than you, and must know better"; and this alice would not allow without knowing how old it was, and, as the lory positively refused to tell its age, there was no more to be said.
at last the mouse, who seemed to be a person of authority among them, called out, "sit down, all of you, and listen to me!
i'll soon make you dry enough!"
they all sat down at once, in a large ring, with the mouse in the middle.
alice kept her eyes anxiously fixed on it, for she felt sure she would catch a bad cold if she did not get dry very soon.
"ahem!"
said the mouse with an important air, "are you all ready?
this is the driest thing i know.
silence all round, if you please!
""william the conqueror, whose cause was favoured by the pope, was soon submitted to by the english, who wanted leaders, and had been of late much accustomed to usurpation and conquest.
edwin and morcar, the earls of mercia and northumbria --"" "ugh!"
said the lory, with a shiver."
i beg your pardon!"
said the mouse, frowning, but very politely: "did you speak?"
"not i!"
said the lory hastily."
i thought you did," said the mouse."
-- i proceed.
""edwin and morcar, the earls of mercia and northumbria, declared for him: and even stigand, the patriotic archbishop of canterbury, found it advisable --"" "found what?"
said the duck.
"found it," the mouse replied rather crossly: "of course you know what "it" means.'"
i know what "it" means well enough, when i find a thing," said the duck: "it's generally a frog or a worm.
the question is, what did the archbishop find?"
the mouse did not notice this question, but hurriedly went on,"" -- found it advisable to go with edgar atheling to meet william and offer him the crown.
william's conduct at first was moderate.
but the insolence of his normans --" how are you getting on now, my dear?"
it continued, turning to alice as it spoke.
"as wet as ever," said alice in a melancholy tone: "it does n't seem to dry me at all."
"in that case," said the dodo solemnly, rising to its feet," i move that the meeting adjourn, for the immediate adoption of more energetic remedies --" "speak english!"
said the eaglet."
i do n't know the meaning of half those long words, and, what's more, i do n't believe you do either!"
and the eaglet bent down its head to hide a smile: some of the other birds tittered audibly.
"what i was going to say," said the dodo in an offended tone, "was, that the best thing to get us dry would be a caucus-race."
"what is a caucus-race?"
said alice; not that she wanted much to know, but the dodo had paused as if it thought that somebody ought to speak, and no one else seemed inclined to say anything.
"why," said the dodo, "the best way to explain it is to do it."
-lrb- and, as you might like to try the thing yourself, some winter day, i will tell you how the dodo managed it. -rrb-
first it marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle, -lrb- "the exact shape does n't matter," it said, -rrb- and then all the party were placed along the course, here and there.
there was no "one, two, three, and away," but they began running when they liked, and left off when they liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over.
however, when they had been running half an hour or so, and were quite dry again, the dodo suddenly called out "the race is over!"
and they all crowded round it, panting, and asking, "but who has won?"
this question the dodo could not answer without a great deal of thought, and it sat for a long time with one finger pressed upon its forehead -lrb- the position in which you usually see shakespeare, in the pictures of him -rrb-, while the rest waited in silence.
at last the dodo said, "everybody has won, and all must have prizes."
"but who is to give the prizes?"
quite a chorus of voices asked.
"why, she, of course," said the dodo, pointing to alice with one finger; and the whole party at once crowded round her, calling out in a confused way, "prizes!
prizes!"
alice had no idea what to do, and in despair she put her hand in her pocket, and pulled out a box of comfits, -lrb- luckily the salt water had not got into it -rrb-, and handed them round as prizes.
there was exactly one a-piece all round.
"but she must have a prize herself, you know," said the mouse.
"of course," the dodo replied very gravely.
"what else have you got in your pocket?"
he went on, turning to alice.
"only a thimble," said alice sadly.
"hand it over here," said the dodo.
then they all crowded round her once more, while the dodo solemnly presented the thimble, saying "we beg your acceptance of this elegant thimble"; and, when it had finished this short speech, they all cheered.
alice thought the whole thing very absurd, but they all looked so grave that she did not dare to laugh; and, as she could not think of anything to say, she simply bowed, and took the thimble, looking as solemn as she could.
the next thing was to eat the comfits: this caused some noise and confusion, as the large birds complained that they could not taste theirs, and the small ones choked and had to be patted on the back.
however, it was over at last, and they sat down again in a ring, and begged the mouse to tell them something more.
"you promised to tell me your history, you know," said alice, "and why it is you hate -- c and d," she added in a whisper, half afraid that it would be offended again.
"mine is a long and a sad tale!"
said the mouse, turning to alice, and sighing.
"it is a long tail, certainly," said alice, looking down with wonder at the mouse's tail; "but why do you call it sad?"
and she kept on puzzling about it while the mouse was speaking, so that her idea of the tale was something like this: -- "fury said to a mouse, that he met in the house, "let us both go to law: i will prosecute you.
-- come, i'll take no denial; we must have a trial: for really this morning i've nothing to do."
said the mouse to the cur, "such a trial, dear sir, with no jury or judge, would be wasting our breath."
""i'll be judge, i'll be jury," said cunning old fury: "i'll try the whole cause, and condemn you to death.""
"you are not attending!"
said the mouse to alice severely.
"what are you thinking of?'"
i beg your pardon," said alice very humbly: "you had got to the fifth bend, i think?'"
i had not!"
cried the mouse, sharply and very angrily."
a knot!"
said alice, always ready to make herself useful, and looking anxiously about her.
"oh, do let me help to undo it!'"
i shall do nothing of the sort," said the mouse, getting up and walking away.
"you insult me by talking such nonsense!'"
i did n't mean it!"
pleaded poor alice.
"but you're so easily offended, you know!"
the mouse only growled in reply.
"please come back and finish your story!"
alice called after it; and the others all joined in chorus, "yes, please do!"
but the mouse only shook its head impatiently, and walked a little quicker.
"what a pity it would n't stay!"
sighed the lory, as soon as it was quite out of sight; and an old crab took the opportunity of saying to her daughter "ah, my dear!
let this be a lesson to you never to lose your temper!"
"hold your tongue, ma!"
said the young crab, a little snappishly.
"you're enough to try the patience of an oyster!'"
i wish i had our dinah here, i know i do!"
said alice aloud, addressing nobody in particular.
"she'd soon fetch it back!"
"and who is dinah, if i might venture to ask the question?"
said the lory.
alice replied eagerly, for she was always ready to talk about her pet: "dinah's our cat.
and she's such a capital one for catching mice you ca n't think!
and oh, i wish you could see her after the birds!
why, she'll eat a little bird as soon as look at it!"
this speech caused a remarkable sensation among the party.
some of the birds hurried off at once: one old magpie began wrapping itself up very carefully, remarking," i really must be getting home; the night-air does n't suit my throat!"
and a canary called out in a trembling voice to its children, "come away, my dears!
it's high time you were all in bed!"
on various pretexts they all moved off, and alice was soon left alone."
i wish i had n't mentioned dinah!"
she said to herself in a melancholy tone.
"nobody seems to like her, down here, and i'm sure she's the best cat in the world!
oh, my dear dinah!
i wonder if i shall ever see you any more!"
and here poor alice began to cry again, for she felt very lonely and low-spirited.
in a little while, however, she again heard a little pattering of footsteps in the distance, and she looked up eagerly, half hoping that the mouse had changed his mind, and was coming back to finish his story.
chapter iv.
the rabbit sends in a little bill it was the white rabbit, trotting slowly back again, and looking anxiously about as it went, as if it had lost something; and she heard it muttering to itself "the duchess!
the duchess!
oh my dear paws!
oh my fur and whiskers!
she'll get me executed, as sure as ferrets are ferrets!
where can i have dropped them, i wonder?"
alice guessed in a moment that it was looking for the fan and the pair of white kid gloves, and she very good-naturedly began hunting about for them, but they were nowhere to be seen -- everything seemed to have changed since her swim in the pool, and the great hall, with the glass table and the little door, had vanished completely.
very soon the rabbit noticed alice, as she went hunting about, and called out to her in an angry tone, "why, mary ann, what are you doing out here?
run home this moment, and fetch me a pair of gloves and a fan!
quick, now!"
and alice was so much frightened that she ran off at once in the direction it pointed to, without trying to explain the mistake it had made.
"he took me for his housemaid," she said to herself as she ran.
"how surprised he'll be when he finds out who i am!
but i'd better take him his fan and gloves -- that is, if i can find them."
as she said this, she came upon a neat little house, on the door of which was a bright brass plate with the name "w. rabbit" engraved upon it.
she went in without knocking, and hurried upstairs, in great fear lest she should meet the real mary ann, and be turned out of the house before she had found the fan and gloves.
"how queer it seems," alice said to herself, "to be going messages for a rabbit!
i suppose dinah'll be sending me on messages next!"
and she began fancying the sort of thing that would happen: """miss alice!
come here directly, and get ready for your walk!"
""coming in a minute, nurse!
but i've got to see that the mouse does n't get out."
only i do n't think," alice went on, "that they'd let dinah stop in the house if it began ordering people about like that!"
by this time she had found her way into a tidy little room with a table in the window, and on it -lrb- as she had hoped -rrb- a fan and two or three pairs of tiny white kid gloves: she took up the fan and a pair of the gloves, and was just going to leave the room, when her eye fell upon a little bottle that stood near the looking-glass.
there was no label this time with the words "drink me," but nevertheless she uncorked it and put it to her lips."
i know something interesting is sure to happen," she said to herself, "whenever i eat or drink anything; so i'll just see what this bottle does.
i do hope it'll make me grow large again, for really i'm quite tired of being such a tiny little thing!"
it did so indeed, and much sooner than she had expected: before she had drunk half the bottle, she found her head pressing against the ceiling, and had to stoop to save her neck from being broken.
she hastily put down the bottle, saying to herself "that's quite enough -- i hope i sha n't grow any more -- as it is, i ca n't get out at the door -- i do wish i had n't drunk quite so much!"
alas!
it was too late to wish that!
she went on growing, and growing, and very soon had to kneel down on the floor: in another minute there was not even room for this, and she tried the effect of lying down with one elbow against the door, and the other arm curled round her head.
still she went on growing, and, as a last resource, she put one arm out of the window, and one foot up the chimney, and said to herself "now i can do no more, whatever happens.
what will become of me?"
luckily for alice, the little magic bottle had now had its full effect, and she grew no larger: still it was very uncomfortable, and, as there seemed to be no sort of chance of her ever getting out of the room again, no wonder she felt unhappy.
"it was much pleasanter at home," thought poor alice, "when one was n't always growing larger and smaller, and being ordered about by mice and rabbits.
i almost wish i had n't gone down that rabbit-hole -- and yet -- and yet -- it's rather curious, you know, this sort of life!
i do wonder what can have happened to me!
when i used to read fairy-tales, i fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here i am in the middle of one!
there ought to be a book written about me, that there ought!
and when i grow up, i'll write one -- but i'm grown up now," she added in a sorrowful tone; "at least there's no room to grow up any more here."
"but then," thought alice, "shall i never get any older than i am now?
that'll be a comfort, one way -- never to be an old woman -- but then -- always to have lessons to learn!
oh, i should n't like that!"
"oh, you foolish alice!"
she answered herself.
"how can you learn lessons in here?
why, there's hardly room for you, and no room at all for any lesson-books!"
and so she went on, taking first one side and then the other, and making quite a conversation of it altogether; but after a few minutes she heard a voice outside, and stopped to listen.
"mary ann!
mary ann!"
said the voice.
"fetch me my gloves this moment!"
then came a little pattering of feet on the stairs.
alice knew it was the rabbit coming to look for her, and she trembled till she shook the house, quite forgetting that she was now about a thousand times as large as the rabbit, and had no reason to be afraid of it.
presently the rabbit came up to the door, and tried to open it; but, as the door opened inwards, and alice's elbow was pressed hard against it, that attempt proved a failure.
alice heard it say to itself "then i'll go round and get in at the window."
"that you wo n't" thought alice, and, after waiting till she fancied she heard the rabbit just under the window, she suddenly spread out her hand, and made a snatch in the air.
she did not get hold of anything, but she heard a little shriek and a fall, and a crash of broken glass, from which she concluded that it was just possible it had fallen into a cucumber-frame, or something of the sort.
next came an angry voice -- the rabbit's -- "pat!
pat!
where are you?"
and then a voice she had never heard before, "sure then i'm here!
digging for apples, yer honour!"
"digging for apples, indeed!"
said the rabbit angrily.
"here!
come and help me out of this!"
-lrb- sounds of more broken glass. -rrb-
"now tell me, pat, what's that in the window?"
"sure, it's an arm, yer honour!"
-lrb- he pronounced it "arrum." -rrb-
"an arm, you goose!
who ever saw one that size?
why, it fills the whole window!"
"sure, it does, yer honour: but it's an arm for all that."
"well, it's got no business there, at any rate: go and take it away!"
there was a long silence after this, and alice could only hear whispers now and then; such as, "sure, i do n't like it, yer honour, at all, at all!"
"do as i tell you, you coward!"
and at last she spread out her hand again, and made another snatch in the air.
this time there were two little shrieks, and more sounds of broken glass.
"what a number of cucumber-frames there must be!"
thought alice."
i wonder what they'll do next!
as for pulling me out of the window, i only wish they could!
i'm sure i do n't want to stay in here any longer!"
she waited for some time without hearing anything more: at last came a rumbling of little cartwheels, and the sound of a good many voices all talking together: she made out the words: "where's the other ladder?
-- why, i had n't to bring but one; bill's got the other -- bill!
fetch it here, lad!
-- here, put'em up at this corner -- no, tie'em together first -- they do n't reach half high enough yet -- oh!
they'll do well enough; do n't be particular -- here, bill!
catch hold of this rope -- will the roof bear?
-- mind that loose slate -- oh, it's coming down!
heads below!"
-lrb- a loud crash -rrb- -- "now, who did that?
-- it was bill, i fancy -- who's to go down the chimney?
-- nay, i sha n't!
you do it!
-- that i wo n't, then!
-- bill's to go down -- here, bill!
the master says you're to go down the chimney!"
"oh!
so bill's got to come down the chimney, has he?"
said alice to herself.
"shy, they seem to put everything upon bill!
i would n't be in bill's place for a good deal: this fireplace is narrow, to be sure; but i think i can kick a little!"
she drew her foot as far down the chimney as she could, and waited till she heard a little animal -lrb- she could n't guess of what sort it was -rrb- scratching and scrambling about in the chimney close above her: then, saying to herself "this is bill," she gave one sharp kick, and waited to see what would happen next.
the first thing she heard was a general chorus of "there goes bill!"
then the rabbit's voice along -- "catch him, you by the hedge!"
then silence, and then another confusion of voices -- "hold up his head -- brandy now -- do n't choke him -- how was it, old fellow?
what happened to you?
tell us all about it!"
last came a little feeble, squeaking voice, -lrb- "that's bill," thought alice, -rrb- "well, i hardly know -- no more, thank ye; i'm better now -- but i'm a deal too flustered to tell you -- all i know is, something comes at me like a jack-in-the-box, and up i goes like a sky-rocket!"
"so you did, old fellow!"
said the others.
"we must burn the house down!"
said the rabbit's voice; and alice called out as loud as she could, "if you do.
i'll set dinah at you!"
there was a dead silence instantly, and alice thought to herself," i wonder what they will do next!
if they had any sense, they'd take the roof off."
after a minute or two, they began moving about again, and alice heard the rabbit say," a barrowful will do, to begin with.'"
a barrowful of what?"
thought alice; but she had not long to doubt, for the next moment a shower of little pebbles came rattling in at the window, and some of them hit her in the face.
"i'll put a stop to this," she said to herself, and shouted out, "you'd better not do that again!"
which produced another dead silence.
alice noticed with some surprise that the pebbles were all turning into little cakes as they lay on the floor, and a bright idea came into her head.
"if i eat one of these cakes," she thought, "it's sure to make some change in my size; and as it ca n't possibly make me larger, it must make me smaller, i suppose."
so she swallowed one of the cakes, and was delighted to find that she began shrinking directly.
as soon as she was small enough to get through the door, she ran out of the house, and found quite a crowd of little animals and birds waiting outside.
the poor little lizard, bill, was in the middle, being held up by two guinea-pigs, who were giving it something out of a bottle.
they all made a rush at alice the moment she appeared; but she ran off as hard as she could, and soon found herself safe in a thick wood.
"the first thing i've got to do," said alice to herself, as she wandered about in the wood, "is to grow to my right size again; and the second thing is to find my way into that lovely garden.
i think that will be the best plan."
it sounded an excellent plan, no doubt, and very neatly and simply arranged; the only difficulty was, that she had not the smallest idea how to set about it; and while she was peering about anxiously among the trees, a little sharp bark just over her head made her look up in a great hurry.
an enormous puppy was looking down at her with large round eyes, and feebly stretching out one paw, trying to touch her.
"poor little thing!"
said alice, in a coaxing tone, and she tried hard to whistle to it; but she was terribly frightened all the time at the thought that it might be hungry, in which case it would be very likely to eat her up in spite of all her coaxing.
hardly knowing what she did, she picked up a little bit of stick, and held it out to the puppy; whereupon the puppy jumped into the air off all its feet at once, with a yelp of delight, and rushed at the stick, and made believe to worry it; then alice dodged behind a great thistle, to keep herself from being run over; and the moment she appeared on the other side, the puppy made another rush at the stick, and tumbled head over heels in its hurry to get hold of it; then alice, thinking it was very like having a game of play with a cart-horse, and expecting every moment to be trampled under its feet, ran round the thistle again; then the puppy began a series of short charges at the stick, running a very little way forwards each time and a long way back, and barking hoarsely all the while, till at last it sat down a good way off, panting, with its tongue hanging out of its mouth, and its great eyes half shut.
this seemed to alice a good opportunity for making her escape; so she set off at once, and ran till she was quite tired and out of breath, and till the puppy's bark sounded quite faint in the distance.
"and yet what a dear little puppy it was!"
said alice, as she leant against a buttercup to rest herself, and fanned herself with one of the leaves: "i should have liked teaching it tricks very much, if -- if i'd only been the right size to do it!
oh dear!
i'd nearly forgotten that i've got to grow up again!
let me see -- how is it to be managed?
i suppose i ought to eat or drink something or other; but the great question is, what?"
the great question certainly was, what?
alice looked all round her at the flowers and the blades of grass, but she did not see anything that looked like the right thing to eat or drink under the circumstances.
there was a large mushroom growing near her, about the same height as herself; and when she had looked under it, and on both sides of it, and behind it, it occurred to her that she might as well look and see what was on the top of it.
she stretched herself up on tiptoe, and peeped over the edge of the mushroom, and her eyes immediately met those of a large caterpillar, that was sitting on the top with its arms folded, quietly smoking a long hookah, and taking not the smallest notice of her or of anything else.
chapter v. advice from a caterpillar the caterpillar and alice looked at each other for some time in silence: at last the caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice.
"who are you?"
said the caterpillar.
this was not an encouraging opening for a conversation.
alice replied, rather shyly, "i -- i hardly know, sir, just at present -- at least i know who i was when i got up this morning, but i think i must have been changed several times since then."
"what do you mean by that?"
said the caterpillar sternly.
"explain yourself!'"
i ca n't explain myself, i'm afraid, sir" said alice, "because i'm not myself, you see.'"
i do n't see," said the caterpillar.
"i'm afraid i ca n't put it more clearly," alice replied very politely, "for i ca n't understand it myself to begin with; and being so many different sizes in a day is very confusing."
"it is n't," said the caterpillar.
"well, perhaps you have n't found it so yet," said alice; "but when you have to turn into a chrysalis -- you will some day, you know -- and then after that into a butterfly, i should think you'll feel it a little queer, wo n't you?"
"not a bit," said the caterpillar.
"well, perhaps your feelings may be different," said alice; "all i know is, it would feel very queer to me."
"you!"
said the caterpillar contemptuously.
"who are you?"
which brought them back again to the beginning of the conversation.
alice felt a little irritated at the caterpillar's making such very short remarks, and she drew herself up and said, very gravely," i think, you ought to tell me who you are, first."
"why?"
said the caterpillar.
here was another puzzling question; and as alice could not think of any good reason, and as the caterpillar seemed to be in a very unpleasant state of mind, she turned away.
"come back!"
the caterpillar called after her.
"i've something important to say!"
this sounded promising, certainly: alice turned and came back again.
"keep your temper," said the caterpillar.
"is that all?"
said alice, swallowing down her anger as well as she could.
"no," said the caterpillar.
alice thought she might as well wait, as she had nothing else to do, and perhaps after all it might tell her something worth hearing.
for some minutes it puffed away without speaking, but at last it unfolded its arms, took the hookah out of its mouth again, and said, "so you think you're changed, do you?"
"i'm afraid i am, sir," said alice;" i ca n't remember things as i used -- and i do n't keep the same size for ten minutes together!"
"ca n't remember what things?"
said the caterpillar.
"well, i've tried to say "how doth the little busy bee," but it all came different!"
alice replied in a very melancholy voice.
"repeat, "you are old, father william,"" said the caterpillar.
alice folded her hands, and began: -- "you are old, father william," the young man said, "and your hair has become very white; and yet you incessantly stand on your head -- do you think, at your age, it is right?"
"in my youth," father william replied to his son," i feared it might injure the brain; but, now that i'm perfectly sure i have none, why, i do it again and again."
"you are old," said the youth, "as i mentioned before, and have grown most uncommonly fat; yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door -- pray, what is the reason of that?"
"in my youth," said the sage, as he shook his grey locks," i kept all my limbs very supple by the use of this ointment -- one shilling the box -- allow me to sell you a couple?"
"you are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak for anything tougher than suet; yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak -- pray how did you manage to do it?"
"in my youth," said his father," i took to the law, and argued each case with my wife; and the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw, has lasted the rest of my life."
"you are old," said the youth, "one would hardly suppose that your eye was as steady as ever; yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose -- what made you so awfully clever?'"
i have answered three questions, and that is enough," said his father; "do n't give yourself airs!
do you think i can listen all day to such stuff?
be off, or i'll kick you down stairs!"
"that is not said right," said the caterpillar.
"not quite right, i'm afraid," said alice, timidly; "some of the words have got altered."
"it is wrong from beginning to end," said the caterpillar decidedly, and there was silence for some minutes.
the caterpillar was the first to speak.
"what size do you want to be?"
it asked.
"oh, i'm not particular as to size," alice hastily replied; "only one does n't like changing so often, you know.'"
i do n't know," said the caterpillar.
alice said nothing: she had never been so much contradicted in her life before, and she felt that she was losing her temper.
"are you content now?"
said the caterpillar.
"well, i should like to be a little larger, sir, if you would n't mind," said alice: "three inches is such a wretched height to be."
"it is a very good height indeed!"
said the caterpillar angrily, rearing itself upright as it spoke -lrb- it was exactly three inches high -rrb-.
"but i'm not used to it!"
pleaded poor alice in a piteous tone.
and she thought of herself," i wish the creatures would n't be so easily offended!"
"you'll get used to it in time," said the caterpillar; and it put the hookah into its mouth and began smoking again.
this time alice waited patiently until it chose to speak again.
in a minute or two the caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth and yawned once or twice, and shook itself.
then it got down off the mushroom, and crawled away in the grass, merely remarking as it went, "one side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter."
"one side of what?
the other side of what?"
thought alice to herself.
"of the mushroom," said the caterpillar, just as if she had asked it aloud; and in another moment it was out of sight.
alice remained looking thoughtfully at the mushroom for a minute, trying to make out which were the two sides of it; and as it was perfectly round, she found this a very difficult question.
however, at last she stretched her arms round it as far as they would go, and broke off a bit of the edge with each hand.
"and now which is which?"
she said to herself, and nibbled a little of the right-hand bit to try the effect: the next moment she felt a violent blow underneath her chin: it had struck her foot!
she was a good deal frightened by this very sudden change, but she felt that there was no time to be lost, as she was shrinking rapidly; so she set to work at once to eat some of the other bit.
her chin was pressed so closely against her foot, that there was hardly room to open her mouth; but she did it at last, and managed to swallow a morsel of the lefthand bit.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * "come, my head's free at last!"
said alice in a tone of delight, which changed into alarm in another moment, when she found that her shoulders were nowhere to be found: all she could see, when she looked down, was an immense length of neck, which seemed to rise like a stalk out of a sea of green leaves that lay far below her.
"what can all that green stuff be?"
said alice.
"and where have my shoulders got to?
and oh, my poor hands, how is it i ca n't see you?"
she was moving them about as she spoke, but no result seemed to follow, except a little shaking among the distant green leaves.
as there seemed to be no chance of getting her hands up to her head, she tried to get her head down to them, and was delighted to find that her neck would bend about easily in any direction, like a serpent.
she had just succeeded in curving it down into a graceful zigzag, and was going to dive in among the leaves, which she found to be nothing but the tops of the trees under which she had been wandering, when a sharp hiss made her draw back in a hurry: a large pigeon had flown into her face, and was beating her violently with its wings.
"serpent!"
screamed the pigeon.
"i'm not a serpent!"
said alice indignantly.
"let me alone!"
"serpent, i say again!"
repeated the pigeon, but in a more subdued tone, and added with a kind of sob, "i've tried every way, and nothing seems to suit them!'"
i have n't the least idea what you're talking about," said alice.
"i've tried the roots of trees, and i've tried banks, and i've tried hedges," the pigeon went on, without attending to her; "but those serpents!
there's no pleasing them!"
alice was more and more puzzled, but she thought there was no use in saying anything more till the pigeon had finished.
"as if it was n't trouble enough hatching the eggs," said the pigeon; "but i must be on the look-out for serpents night and day!
why, i have n't had a wink of sleep these three weeks!"
"i'm very sorry you've been annoyed," said alice, who was beginning to see its meaning.
"and just as i'd taken the highest tree in the wood," continued the pigeon, raising its voice to a shriek, "and just as i was thinking i should be free of them at last, they must needs come wriggling down from the sky!
ugh, serpent!"
"but i'm not a serpent, i tell you!"
said alice.
"i'm a -- i'm a --" "well!
what are you?"
said the pigeon."
i can see you're trying to invent something!"
"i -- i'm a little girl," said alice, rather doubtfully, as she remembered the number of changes she had gone through that day."
a likely story indeed!"
said the pigeon in a tone of the deepest contempt.
"i've seen a good many little girls in my time, but never one with such a neck as that!
no, no!
you're a serpent; and there's no use denying it.
i suppose you'll be telling me next that you never tasted an egg!'"
i have tasted eggs, certainly," said alice, who was a very truthful child; "but little girls eat eggs quite as much as serpents do, you know.'"
i do n't believe it," said the pigeon; "but if they do, why then they're a kind of serpent, that's all i can say."
this was such a new idea to alice, that she was quite silent for a minute or two, which gave the pigeon the opportunity of adding, "you're looking for eggs, i know that well enough; and what does it matter to me whether you're a little girl or a serpent?"
"it matters a good deal to me," said alice hastily; "but i'm not looking for eggs, as it happens; and if i was, i should n't want yours: i do n't like them raw."
"well, be off, then!"
said the pigeon in a sulky tone, as it settled down again into its nest.
alice crouched down among the trees as well as she could, for her neck kept getting entangled among the branches, and every now and then she had to stop and untwist it.
after a while she remembered that she still held the pieces of mushroom in her hands, and she set to work very carefully, nibbling first at one and then at the other, and growing sometimes taller and sometimes shorter, until she had succeeded in bringing herself down to her usual height.
it was so long since she had been anything near the right size, that it felt quite strange at first; but she got used to it in a few minutes, and began talking to herself, as usual.
"come, there's half my plan done now!
how puzzling all these changes are!
i'm never sure what i'm going to be, from one minute to another!
however, i've got back to my right size: the next thing is, to get into that beautiful garden -- how is that to be done, i wonder?"
as she said this, she came suddenly upon an open place, with a little house in it about four feet high.
"whoever lives there," thought alice, "it'll never do to come upon them this size: why, i should frighten them out of their wits!"
so she began nibbling at the righthand bit again, and did not venture to go near the house till she had brought herself down to nine inches high.
chapter vi.
pig and pepper for a minute or two she stood looking at the house, and wondering what to do next, when suddenly a footman in livery came running out of the wood -- -lrb- she considered him to be a footman because he was in livery: otherwise, judging by his face only, she would have called him a fish -rrb- -- and rapped loudly at the door with his knuckles.
it was opened by another footman in livery, with a round face, and large eyes like a frog; and both footmen, alice noticed, had powdered hair that curled all over their heads.
she felt very curious to know what it was all about, and crept a little way out of the wood to listen.
the fish-footman began by producing from under his arm a great letter, nearly as large as himself, and this he handed over to the other, saying, in a solemn tone, "for the duchess.
an invitation from the queen to play croquet."
the frog-footman repeated, in the same solemn tone, only changing the order of the words a little, "from the queen.
an invitation for the duchess to play croquet."
then they both bowed low, and their curls got entangled together.
alice laughed so much at this, that she had to run back into the wood for fear of their hearing her; and when she next peeped out the fish-footman was gone, and the other was sitting on the ground near the door, staring stupidly up into the sky.
alice went timidly up to the door, and knocked.
"there's no sort of use in knocking," said the footman, "and that for two reasons.
first, because i'm on the same side of the door as you are; secondly, because they're making such a noise inside, no one could possibly hear you."
and certainly there was a most extraordinary noise going on within -- a constant howling and sneezing, and every now and then a great crash, as if a dish or kettle had been broken to pieces.
"please, then," said alice, "how am i to get in?"
"there might be some sense in your knocking," the footman went on without attending to her, "if we had the door between us.
for instance, if you were inside, you might knock, and i could let you out, you know."
he was looking up into the sky all the time he was speaking, and this alice thought decidedly uncivil.
"but perhaps he ca n't help it," she said to herself; "his eyes are so very nearly at the top of his head.
but at any rate he might answer questions.
-- how am i to get in?"
she repeated, aloud."
i shall sit here," the footman remarked,'till tomorrow --" at this moment the door of the house opened, and a large plate came skimming out, straight at the footman's head: it just grazed his nose, and broke to pieces against one of the trees behind him."
-- or next day, maybe," the footman continued in the same tone, exactly as if nothing had happened.
"how am i to get in?"
asked alice again, in a louder tone.
"are you to get in at all?"
said the footman.
"that's the first question, you know."
it was, no doubt: only alice did not like to be told so.
"it's really dreadful," she muttered to herself, "the way all the creatures argue.
it's enough to drive one crazy!"
the footman seemed to think this a good opportunity for repeating his remark, with variations."
i shall sit here," he said, "on and off, for days and days."
"but what am i to do?"
said alice.
"anything you like," said the footman, and began whistling.
"oh, there's no use in talking to him," said alice desperately: "he's perfectly idiotic!"
and she opened the door and went in.
the door led right into a large kitchen, which was full of smoke from one end to the other: the duchess was sitting on a three-legged stool in the middle, nursing a baby; the cook was leaning over the fire, stirring a large cauldron which seemed to be full of soup.
"there's certainly too much pepper in that soup!"
alice said to herself, as well as she could for sneezing.
there was certainly too much of it in the air.
even the duchess sneezed occasionally; and as for the baby, it was sneezing and howling alternately without a moment's pause.
the only things in the kitchen that did not sneeze, were the cook, and a large cat which was sitting on the hearth and grinning from ear to ear.
"please would you tell me," said alice, a little timidly, for she was not quite sure whether it was good manners for her to speak first, "why your cat grins like that?"
"it's a cheshire cat," said the duchess, "and that's why.
pig!"
she said the last word with such sudden violence that alice quite jumped; but she saw in another moment that it was addressed to the baby, and not to her, so she took courage, and went on again: --" i did n't know that cheshire cats always grinned; in fact, i did n't know that cats could grin."
"they all can," said the duchess; "and most of'em do.'"
i do n't know of any that do," alice said very politely, feeling quite pleased to have got into a conversation.
"you do n't know much," said the duchess; "and that's a fact."
alice did not at all like the tone of this remark, and thought it would be as well to introduce some other subject of conversation.
while she was trying to fix on one, the cook took the cauldron of soup off the fire, and at once set to work throwing everything within her reach at the duchess and the baby -- the fire-irons came first; then followed a shower of saucepans, plates, and dishes.
the duchess took no notice of them even when they hit her; and the baby was howling so much already, that it was quite impossible to say whether the blows hurt it or not.
"oh, please mind what you're doing!"
cried alice, jumping up and down in an agony of terror.
"oh, there goes his precious nose"; as an unusually large saucepan flew close by it, and very nearly carried it off.
"if everybody minded their own business," the duchess said in a hoarse growl, "the world would go round a deal faster than it does."
"which would not be an advantage," said alice, who felt very glad to get an opportunity of showing off a little of her knowledge.
"just think of what work it would make with the day and night!
you see the earth takes twenty-four hours to turn round on its axis --" "talking of axes," said the duchess, "chop off her head!"
alice glanced rather anxiously at the cook, to see if she meant to take the hint; but the cook was busily stirring the soup, and seemed not to be listening, so she went on again: "twenty-four hours, i think; or is it twelve?
i --" "oh, do n't bother me," said the duchess;" i never could abide figures!"
and with that she began nursing her child again, singing a sort of lullaby to it as she did so, and giving it a violent shake at the end of every line: "speak roughly to your little boy, and beat him when he sneezes: he only does it to annoy, because he knows it teases."
chorus.
-lrb- in which the cook and the baby joined -rrb-: -- "wow!
wow!
wow!"
while the duchess sang the second verse of the song, she kept tossing the baby violently up and down, and the poor little thing howled so, that alice could hardly hear the words: --" i speak severely to my boy, i beat him when he sneezes; for he can thoroughly enjoy the pepper when he pleases!"
chorus.
"wow!
wow!
wow!"
"here!
you may nurse it a bit, if you like!"
the duchess said to alice, flinging the baby at her as she spoke."
i must go and get ready to play croquet with the queen," and she hurried out of the room.
the cook threw a frying-pan after her as she went out, but it just missed her.
alice caught the baby with some difficulty, as it was a queer-shaped little creature, and held out its arms and legs in all directions, "just like a star-fish," thought alice.
the poor little thing was snorting like a steam-engine when she caught it, and kept doubling itself up and straightening itself out again, so that altogether, for the first minute or two, it was as much as she could do to hold it.
as soon as she had made out the proper way of nursing it, -lrb- which was to twist it up into a sort of knot, and then keep tight hold of its right ear and left foot, so as to prevent its undoing itself, -rrb- she carried it out into the open air.
"if i do n't take this child away with me," thought alice, "they're sure to kill it in a day or two: would n't it be murder to leave it behind?"
she said the last words out loud, and the little thing grunted in reply -lrb- it had left off sneezing by this time -rrb-.
"do n't grunt," said alice; "that's not at all a proper way of expressing yourself."
the baby grunted again, and alice looked very anxiously into its face to see what was the matter with it.
there could be no doubt that it had a very turn-up nose, much more like a snout than a real nose; also its eyes were getting extremely small for a baby: altogether alice did not like the look of the thing at all.
"but perhaps it was only sobbing," she thought, and looked into its eyes again, to see if there were any tears.
no, there were no tears.
"if you're going to turn into a pig, my dear," said alice, seriously, "i'll have nothing more to do with you.
mind now!"
the poor little thing sobbed again -lrb- or grunted, it was impossible to say which -rrb-, and they went on for some while in silence.
alice was just beginning to think to herself, "now, what am i to do with this creature when i get it home?"
when it grunted again, so violently, that she looked down into its face in some alarm.
this time there could be no mistake about it: it was neither more nor less than a pig, and she felt that it would be quite absurd for her to carry it further.
so she set the little creature down, and felt quite relieved to see it trot away quietly into the wood.
"if it had grown up," she said to herself, "it would have made a dreadfully ugly child: but it makes rather a handsome pig, i think."
and she began thinking over other children she knew, who might do very well as pigs, and was just saying to herself, "if one only knew the right way to change them --" when she was a little startled by seeing the cheshire cat sitting on a bough of a tree a few yards off.
the cat only grinned when it saw alice.
it looked good-natured, she thought: still it had very long claws and a great many teeth, so she felt that it ought to be treated with respect.
"cheshire puss," she began, rather timidly, as she did not at all know whether it would like the name: however, it only grinned a little wider.
"come, it's pleased so far," thought alice, and she went on.
"would you tell me, please, which way i ought to go from here?"
"that depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the cat."
i do n't much care where --" said alice.
"then it does n't matter which way you go," said the cat."
-- so long as i get somewhere," alice added as an explanation.
"oh, you're sure to do that," said the cat, "if you only walk long enough."
alice felt that this could not be denied, so she tried another question.
"what sort of people live about here?"
"in that direction," the cat said, waving its right paw round, "lives a hatter: and in that direction," waving the other paw, "lives a march hare.
visit either you like: they're both mad."
"but i do n't want to go among mad people," alice remarked.
"oh, you ca n't help that," said the cat: "we're all mad here.
i'm mad.
you're mad."
"how do you know i'm mad?"
said alice.
"you must be," said the cat, "or you would n't have come here."
alice did n't think that proved it at all; however, she went on "and how do you know that you're mad?"
"to begin with," said the cat," a dog's not mad.
you grant that?'"
i suppose so," said alice.
"well, then," the cat went on, "you see, a dog growls when it's angry, and wags its tail when it's pleased.
now i growl when i'm pleased, and wag my tail when i'm angry.
therefore i'm mad.'"
i call it purring, not growling," said alice.
"call it what you like," said the cat.
"do you play croquet with the queen to-day?'"
i should like it very much," said alice, "but i have n't been invited yet."
"you'll see me there," said the cat, and vanished.
alice was not much surprised at this, she was getting so used to queer things happening.
while she was looking at the place where it had been, it suddenly appeared again.
"by-the-bye, what became of the baby?"
said the cat.
"i'd nearly forgotten to ask."
"it turned into a pig," alice quietly said, just as if it had come back in a natural way."
i thought it would," said the cat, and vanished again.
alice waited a little, half expecting to see it again, but it did not appear, and after a minute or two she walked on in the direction in which the march hare was said to live.
"i've seen hatters before," she said to herself; "the march hare will be much the most interesting, and perhaps as this is may it wo n't be raving mad -- at least not so mad as it was in march."
as she said this, she looked up, and there was the cat again, sitting on a branch of a tree.
"did you say pig, or fig?"
said the cat."
i said pig," replied alice; "and i wish you would n't keep appearing and vanishing so suddenly: you make one quite giddy."
"all right," said the cat; and this time it vanished quite slowly, beginning with the end of the tail, and ending with the grin, which remained some time after the rest of it had gone.
"well!
i've often seen a cat without a grin," thought alice; "but a grin without a cat!
it's the most curious thing i ever saw in my life!"
she had not gone much farther before she came in sight of the house of the march hare: she thought it must be the right house, because the chimneys were shaped like ears and the roof was thatched with fur.
it was so large a house, that she did not like to go nearer till she had nibbled some more of the lefthand bit of mushroom, and raised herself to about two feet high: even then she walked up towards it rather timidly, saying to herself "suppose it should be raving mad after all!
i almost wish i'd gone to see the hatter instead!"
chapter vii.
a mad tea-party there was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the march hare and the hatter were having tea at it: a dormouse was sitting between them, fast asleep, and the other two were using it as a cushion, resting their elbows on it, and talking over its head.
"very uncomfortable for the dormouse," thought alice; "only, as it's asleep, i suppose it does n't mind."
the table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together at one corner of it: "no room!
no room!"
they cried out when they saw alice coming.
"there's plenty of room!"
said alice indignantly, and she sat down in a large arm-chair at one end of the table.
"have some wine," the march hare said in an encouraging tone.
alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it but tea."
i do n't see any wine," she remarked.
"there is n't any," said the march hare.
"then it was n't very civil of you to offer it," said alice angrily.
"it was n't very civil of you to sit down without being invited," said the march hare."
i did n't know it was your table," said alice; "it's laid for a great many more than three."
"your hair wants cutting," said the hatter.
he had been looking at alice for some time with great curiosity, and this was his first speech.
"you should learn not to make personal remarks," alice said with some severity; "it's very rude."
the hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this; but all he said was, "why is a raven like a writing-desk?"
"come, we shall have some fun now!"
thought alice.
"i'm glad they've begun asking riddles.
-- i believe i can guess that," she added aloud.
"do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?"
said the march hare.
"exactly so," said alice.
"then you should say what you mean," the march hare went on."
i do," alice hastily replied; "at least -- at least i mean what i say -- that's the same thing, you know."
"not the same thing a bit!"
said the hatter.
"you might just as well say that "i see what i eat" is the same thing as "i eat what i see"!"
"you might just as well say," added the march hare, "that "i like what i get" is the same thing as "i get what i like"!"
"you might just as well say," added the dormouse, who seemed to be talking in his sleep, "that "i breathe when i sleep" is the same thing as "i sleep when i breathe"!"
"it is the same thing with you," said the hatter, and here the conversation dropped, and the party sat silent for a minute, while alice thought over all she could remember about ravens and writing-desks, which was n't much.
the hatter was the first to break the silence.
"what day of the month is it?"
he said, turning to alice: he had taken his watch out of his pocket, and was looking at it uneasily, shaking it every now and then, and holding it to his ear.
alice considered a little, and then said "the fourth."
"two days wrong!"
sighed the hatter."
i told you butter would n't suit the works!"
he added looking angrily at the march hare.
"it was the best butter," the march hare meekly replied.
"yes, but some crumbs must have got in as well," the hatter grumbled: "you should n't have put it in with the bread-knife."
the march hare took the watch and looked at it gloomily: then he dipped it into his cup of tea, and looked at it again: but he could think of nothing better to say than his first remark, "it was the best butter, you know."
alice had been looking over his shoulder with some curiosity.
"what a funny watch!"
she remarked.
"it tells the day of the month, and does n't tell what o'clock it is!"
"why should it?"
muttered the hatter.
"does your watch tell you what year it is?"
"of course not," alice replied very readily: "but that's because it stays the same year for such a long time together."
"which is just the case with mine," said the hatter.
alice felt dreadfully puzzled.
the hatter's remark seemed to have no sort of meaning in it, and yet it was certainly english."
i do n't quite understand you," she said, as politely as she could.
"the dormouse is asleep again," said the hatter, and he poured a little hot tea upon its nose.
the dormouse shook its head impatiently, and said, without opening its eyes, "of course, of course; just what i was going to remark myself."
"have you guessed the riddle yet?"
the hatter said, turning to alice again.
"no, i give it up," alice replied: "what's the answer?'"
i have n't the slightest idea," said the hatter.
"nor i," said the march hare.
alice sighed wearily."
i think you might do something better with the time," she said, "than waste it in asking riddles that have no answers."
"if you knew time as well as i do," said the hatter, "you would n't talk about wasting it.
it's him.'"
i do n't know what you mean," said alice.
"of course you do n't!"
the hatter said, tossing his head contemptuously."
i dare say you never even spoke to time!"
"perhaps not," alice cautiously replied: "but i know i have to beat time when i learn music."
"ah!
that accounts for it," said the hatter.
"he wo n't stand beating.
now, if you only kept on good terms with him, he'd do almost anything you liked with the clock.
for instance, suppose it were nine o'clock in the morning, just time to begin lessons: you'd only have to whisper a hint to time, and round goes the clock in a twinkling!
half-past one, time for dinner!"
-lrb-" i only wish it was," the march hare said to itself in a whisper. -rrb-
"that would be grand, certainly," said alice thoughtfully: "but then -- i should n't be hungry for it, you know."
"not at first, perhaps," said the hatter: "but you could keep it to half-past one as long as you liked."
"is that the way you manage?"
alice asked.
the hatter shook his head mournfully.
"not i!"
he replied.
"we quarrelled last march -- just before he went mad, you know --" -lrb- pointing with his tea spoon at the march hare, -rrb-" -- it was at the great concert given by the queen of hearts, and i had to sing "twinkle, twinkle, little bat!
how i wonder what you're at!"
you know the song, perhaps?"
"i've heard something like it," said alice.
"it goes on, you know," the hatter continued, "in this way: -- "up above the world you fly, like a tea-tray in the sky.
twinkle, twinkle --"" here the dormouse shook itself, and began singing in its sleep "twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, twinkle --" and went on so long that they had to pinch it to make it stop.
"well, i'd hardly finished the first verse," said the hatter, "when the queen jumped up and bawled out, "he's murdering the time!
off with his head!""
"how dreadfully savage!"
exclaimed alice.
"and ever since that," the hatter went on in a mournful tone, "he wo n't do a thing i ask!
it's always six o'clock now."
a bright idea came into alice's head.
"is that the reason so many tea-things are put out here?"
she asked.
"yes, that's it," said the hatter with a sigh: "it's always tea-time, and we've no time to wash the things between whiles."
"then you keep moving round, i suppose?"
said alice.
"exactly so," said the hatter: "as the things get used up."
"but what happens when you come to the beginning again?"
alice ventured to ask.
"suppose we change the subject," the march hare interrupted, yawning.
"i'm getting tired of this.
i vote the young lady tells us a story."
"i'm afraid i do n't know one," said alice, rather alarmed at the proposal.
"then the dormouse shall!"
they both cried.
"wake up, dormouse!"
and they pinched it on both sides at once.
the dormouse slowly opened his eyes."
i was n't asleep," he said in a hoarse, feeble voice: "i heard every word you fellows were saying."
"tell us a story!"
said the march hare.
"yes, please do!"
pleaded alice.
"and be quick about it," added the hatter, "or you'll be asleep again before it's done."
"once upon a time there were three little sisters," the dormouse began in a great hurry; "and their names were elsie, lacie, and tillie; and they lived at the bottom of a well --" "what did they live on?"
said alice, who always took a great interest in questions of eating and drinking.
"they lived on treacle," said the dormouse, after thinking a minute or two.
"they could n't have done that, you know," alice gently remarked; "they'd have been ill."
"so they were," said the dormouse; "very ill."
alice tried to fancy to herself what such an extraordinary ways of living would be like, but it puzzled her too much, so she went on: "but why did they live at the bottom of a well?"
"take some more tea," the march hare said to alice, very earnestly.
"i've had nothing yet," alice replied in an offended tone, "so i ca n't take more."
"you mean you ca n't take less," said the hatter: "it's very easy to take more than nothing."
"nobody asked your opinion," said alice.
"who's making personal remarks now?"
the hatter asked triumphantly.
alice did not quite know what to say to this: so she helped herself to some tea and bread-and-butter, and then turned to the dormouse, and repeated her question.
"why did they live at the bottom of a well?"
the dormouse again took a minute or two to think about it, and then said, "it was a treacle-well."
"there's no such thing!"
alice was beginning very angrily, but the hatter and the march hare went "sh!
sh!"
and the dormouse sulkily remarked, "if you ca n't be civil, you'd better finish the story for yourself."
"no, please go on!"
alice said very humbly;" i wo n't interrupt again.
i dare say there may be one."
"one, indeed!"
said the dormouse indignantly.
however, he consented to go on.
"and so these three little sisters -- they were learning to draw, you know --" "what did they draw?"
said alice, quite forgetting her promise.
"treacle," said the dormouse, without considering at all this time."
i want a clean cup," interrupted the hatter: "let's all move one place on."
he moved on as he spoke, and the dormouse followed him: the march hare moved into the dormouse's place, and alice rather unwillingly took the place of the march hare.
the hatter was the only one who got any advantage from the change: and alice was a good deal worse off than before, as the march hare had just upset the milk-jug into his plate.
alice did not wish to offend the dormouse again, so she began very cautiously: "but i do n't understand.
where did they draw the treacle from?"
"you can draw water out of a water-well," said the hatter; "so i should think you could draw treacle out of a treacle-well -- eh, stupid?"
"but they were in the well," alice said to the dormouse, not choosing to notice this last remark.
"of course they were", said the dormouse;" -- well in."
this answer so confused poor alice, that she let the dormouse go on for some time without interrupting it.
"they were learning to draw," the dormouse went on, yawning and rubbing its eyes, for it was getting very sleepy; "and they drew all manner of things -- everything that begins with an m --" "why with an m?"
said alice.
"why not?"
said the march hare.
alice was silent.
the dormouse had closed its eyes by this time, and was going off into a doze; but, on being pinched by the hatter, it woke up again with a little shriek, and went on: "-- that begins with an m, such as mouse-traps, and the moon, and memory, and muchness -- you know you say things are "much of a muchness" -- did you ever see such a thing as a drawing of a muchness?"
"really, now you ask me," said alice, very much confused," i do n't think --" "then you should n't talk," said the hatter.
this piece of rudeness was more than alice could bear: she got up in great disgust, and walked off; the dormouse fell asleep instantly, and neither of the others took the least notice of her going, though she looked back once or twice, half hoping that they would call after her: the last time she saw them, they were trying to put the dormouse into the teapot.
"at any rate i'll never go there again!"
said alice as she picked her way through the wood.
"it's the stupidest tea-party i ever was at in all my life!"
just as she said this, she noticed that one of the trees had a door leading right into it.
"that's very curious!"
she thought.
"but everything's curious today.
i think i may as well go in at once."
and in she went.
once more she found herself in the long hall, and close to the little glass table.
"now, i'll manage better this time," she said to herself, and began by taking the little golden key, and unlocking the door that led into the garden.
then she went to work nibbling at the mushroom -lrb- she had kept a piece of it in her pocket -rrb- till she was about a foot high: then she walked down the little passage: and then -- she found herself at last in the beautiful garden, among the bright flower-beds and the cool fountains.
chapter viii.
the queen's croquet-ground a large rose-tree stood near the entrance of the garden: the roses growing on it were white, but there were three gardeners at it, busily painting them red.
alice thought this a very curious thing, and she went nearer to watch them, and just as she came up to them she heard one of them say, "look out now, five!
do n't go splashing paint over me like that!'"
i could n't help it," said five, in a sulky tone; "seven jogged my elbow."
on which seven looked up and said, "that's right, five!
always lay the blame on others!"
"you'd better not talk!"
said five."
i heard the queen say only yesterday you deserved to be beheaded!"
"what for?"
said the one who had spoken first.
"that's none of your business, two!"
said seven.
"yes, it is his business!"
said five, "and i'll tell him -- it was for bringing the cook tulip-roots instead of onions."
seven flung down his brush, and had just begun "well, of all the unjust things --" when his eye chanced to fall upon alice, as she stood watching them, and he checked himself suddenly: the others looked round also, and all of them bowed low.
"would you tell me," said alice, a little timidly, "why you are painting those roses?"
five and seven said nothing, but looked at two.
two began in a low voice, "why the fact is, you see, miss, this here ought to have been a red rose-tree, and we put a white one in by mistake; and if the queen was to find it out, we should all have our heads cut off, you know.
so you see, miss, we're doing our best, afore she comes, to --" at this moment five, who had been anxiously looking across the garden, called out "the queen!
the queen!"
and the three gardeners instantly threw themselves flat upon their faces.
there was a sound of many footsteps, and alice looked round, eager to see the queen.
first came ten soldiers carrying clubs; these were all shaped like the three gardeners, oblong and flat, with their hands and feet at the corners: next the ten courtiers; these were ornamented all over with diamonds, and walked two and two, as the soldiers did.
after these came the royal children; there were ten of them, and the little dears came jumping merrily along hand in hand, in couples: they were all ornamented with hearts.
next came the guests, mostly kings and queens, and among them alice recognised the white rabbit: it was talking in a hurried nervous manner, smiling at everything that was said, and went by without noticing her.
then followed the knave of hearts, carrying the king's crown on a crimson velvet cushion; and, last of all this grand procession, came the king and queen of hearts.
alice was rather doubtful whether she ought not to lie down on her face like the three gardeners, but she could not remember ever having heard of such a rule at processions; "and besides, what would be the use of a procession," thought she, "if people had all to lie down upon their faces, so that they could n't see it?"
so she stood still where she was, and waited.
when the procession came opposite to alice, they all stopped and looked at her, and the queen said severely "who is this?"
she said it to the knave of hearts, who only bowed and smiled in reply.
"idiot!"
said the queen, tossing her head impatiently; and, turning to alice, she went on, "what's your name, child?"
"my name is alice, so please your majesty," said alice very politely; but she added, to herself, "why, they're only a pack of cards, after all.
i need n't be afraid of them!"
"and who are these?"
said the queen, pointing to the three gardeners who were lying round the rosetree; for, you see, as they were lying on their faces, and the pattern on their backs was the same as the rest of the pack, she could not tell whether they were gardeners, or soldiers, or courtiers, or three of her own children.
"how should i know?"
said alice, surprised at her own courage.
"it's no business of mine."
the queen turned crimson with fury, and, after glaring at her for a moment like a wild beast, screamed "off with her head!
off --" "nonsense!"
said alice, very loudly and decidedly, and the queen was silent.
the king laid his hand upon her arm, and timidly said "consider, my dear: she is only a child!"
the queen turned angrily away from him, and said to the knave "turn them over!"
the knave did so, very carefully, with one foot.
"get up!"
said the queen, in a shrill, loud voice, and the three gardeners instantly jumped up, and began bowing to the king, the queen, the royal children, and everybody else.
"leave off that!"
screamed the queen.
"you make me giddy."
and then, turning to the rose-tree, she went on, "what have you been doing here?"
"may it please your majesty," said two, in a very humble tone, going down on one knee as he spoke, "we were trying --"' i see!"
said the queen, who had meanwhile been examining the roses.
"off with their heads!"
and the procession moved on, three of the soldiers remaining behind to execute the unfortunate gardeners, who ran to alice for protection.
"you sha n't be beheaded!"
said alice, and she put them into a large flower-pot that stood near.
the three soldiers wandered about for a minute or two, looking for them, and then quietly marched off after the others.
"are their heads off?"
shouted the queen.
"their heads are gone, if it please your majesty!"
the soldiers shouted in reply.
"that's right!"
shouted the queen.
"can you play croquet?"
the soldiers were silent, and looked at alice, as the question was evidently meant for her.
"yes!"
shouted alice.
"come on, then!"
roared the queen, and alice joined the procession, wondering very much what would happen next.
"it's -- it's a very fine day!"
said a timid voice at her side.
she was walking by the white rabbit, who was peeping anxiously into her face.
"very," said alice: "-- where's the duchess?"
"hush!
hush!"
said the rabbit in a low, hurried tone.
he looked anxiously over his shoulder as he spoke, and then raised himself upon tiptoe, put his mouth close to her ear, and whispered "she's under sentence of execution."
"what for?"
said alice.
"did you say "what a pity!"
?"
the rabbit asked.
"no, i did n't," said alice: "i do n't think it's at all a pity.
i said "what for?""
"she boxed the queen's ears --" the rabbit began.
alice gave a little scream of laughter.
"oh, hush!"
the rabbit whispered in a frightened tone.
"the queen will hear you!
you see, she came rather late, and the queen said --" "get to your places!"
shouted the queen in a voice of thunder, and people began running about in all directions, tumbling up against each other; however, they got settled down in a minute or two, and the game began.
alice thought she had never seen such a curious croquet-ground in her life; it was all ridges and furrows; the balls were live hedgehogs, the mallets live flamingoes, and the soldiers had to double themselves up and to stand on their hands and feet, to make the arches.
the chief difficulty alice found at first was in managing her flamingo: she succeeded in getting its body tucked away, comfortably enough, under her arm, with its legs hanging down, but generally, just as she had got its neck nicely straightened out, and was going to give the hedgehog a blow with its head, it would twist itself round and look up in her face, with such a puzzled expression that she could not help bursting out laughing: and when she had got its head down, and was going to begin again, it was very provoking to find that the hedgehog had unrolled itself, and was in the act of crawling away: besides all this, there was generally a ridge or furrow in the way wherever she wanted to send the hedgehog to, and, as the doubled-up soldiers were always getting up and walking off to other parts of the ground, alice soon came to the conclusion that it was a very difficult game indeed.
the players all played at once without waiting for turns, quarrelling all the while, and fighting for the hedgehogs; and in a very short time the queen was in a furious passion, and went stamping about, and shouting "off with his head!"
or "off with her head!"
about once in a minute.
alice began to feel very uneasy: to be sure, she had not as yet had any dispute with the queen, but she knew that it might happen any minute, "and then," thought she, "what would become of me?
they're dreadfully fond of beheading people here; the great wonder is, that there's any one left alive!"
she was looking about for some way of escape, and wondering whether she could get away without being seen, when she noticed a curious appearance in the air: it puzzled her very much at first, but, after watching it a minute or two, she made it out to be a grin, and she said to herself "it's the cheshire cat: now i shall have somebody to talk to."
"how are you getting on?"
said the cat, as soon as there was mouth enough for it to speak with.
alice waited till the eyes appeared, and then nodded.
"it's no use speaking to it," she thought,'till its ears have come, or at least one of them."
in another minute the whole head appeared, and then alice put down her flamingo, and began an account of the game, feeling very glad she had someone to listen to her.
the cat seemed to think that there was enough of it now in sight, and no more of it appeared."
i do n't think they play at all fairly," alice began, in rather a complaining tone, "and they all quarrel so dreadfully one ca n't hear oneself speak -- and they do n't seem to have any rules in particular; at least, if there are, nobody attends to them -- and you've no idea how confusing it is all the things being alive; for instance, there's the arch i've got to go through next walking about at the other end of the ground -- and i should have croqueted the queen's hedgehog just now, only it ran away when it saw mine coming!"
"how do you like the queen?"
said the cat in a low voice.
"not at all," said alice: "she's so extremely --" just then she noticed that the queen was close behind her, listening: so she went on," -- likely to win, that it's hardly worth while finishing the game."
the queen smiled and passed on.
"who are you talking to?"
said the king, going up to alice, and looking at the cat's head with great curiosity.
"it's a friend of mine -- a cheshire cat," said alice: "allow me to introduce it.'"
i do n't like the look of it at all," said the king: "however, it may kiss my hand if it likes."
"i'd rather not," the cat remarked.
"do n't be impertinent," said the king, "and do n't look at me like that!"
he got behind alice as he spoke."
a cat may look at a king," said alice.
"i've read that in some book, but i do n't remember where."
"well, it must be removed," said the king very decidedly, and he called the queen, who was passing at the moment, "my dear!
i wish you would have this cat removed!"
the queen had only one way of settling all difficulties, great or small.
"off with his head!"
she said, without even looking round.
"i'll fetch the executioner myself," said the king eagerly, and he hurried off.
alice thought she might as well go back, and see how the game was going on, as she heard the queen's voice in the distance, screaming with passion.
she had already heard her sentence three of the players to be executed for having missed their turns, and she did not like the look of things at all, as the game was in such confusion that she never knew whether it was her turn or not.
so she went in search of her hedgehog.
the hedgehog was engaged in a fight with another hedgehog, which seemed to alice an excellent opportunity for croqueting one of them with the other: the only difficulty was, that her flamingo was gone across to the other side of the garden, where alice could see it trying in a helpless sort of way to fly up into a tree.
by the time she had caught the flamingo and brought it back, the fight was over, and both the hedgehogs were out of sight: "but it does n't matter much," thought alice, "as all the arches are gone from this side of the ground."
so she tucked it away under her arm, that it might not escape again, and went back for a little more conversation with her friend.
when she got back to the cheshire cat, she was surprised to find quite a large crowd collected round it: there was a dispute going on between the executioner, the king, and the queen, who were all talking at once, while all the rest were quite silent, and looked very uncomfortable.
the moment alice appeared, she was appealed to by all three to settle the question, and they repeated their arguments to her, though, as they all spoke at once, she found it very hard indeed to make out exactly what they said.
the executioner's argument was, that you could n't cut off a head unless there was a body to cut it off from: that he had never had to do such a thing before, and he was n't going to begin at his time of life.
the king's argument was, that anything that had a head could be beheaded, and that you were n't to talk nonsense.
the queen's argument was, that if something was n't done about it in less than no time she'd have everybody executed, all round.
-lrb- it was this last remark that had made the whole party look so grave and anxious. -rrb-
alice could think of nothing else to say but "it belongs to the duchess: you'd better ask her about it."
"she's in prison," the queen said to the executioner: "fetch her here."
and the executioner went off like an arrow.
the cat's head began fading away the moment he was gone, and, by the time he had come back with the duchess, it had entirely disappeared; so the king and the executioner ran wildly up and down looking for it, while the rest of the party went back to the game.
chapter ix.
the mock turtle's story "you ca n't think how glad i am to see you again, you dear old thing!"
said the duchess, as she tucked her arm affectionately into alice's, and they walked off together.
alice was very glad to find her in such a pleasant temper, and thought to herself that perhaps it was only the pepper that had made her so savage when they met in the kitchen.
"when i'm a duchess," she said to herself, -lrb- not in a very hopeful tone though -rrb-," i wo n't have any pepper in my kitchen at all.
soup does very well without -- maybe it's always pepper that makes people hot-tempered," she went on, very much pleased at having found out a new kind of rule, "and vinegar that makes them sour -- and camomile that makes them bitter -- and -- and barley-sugar and such things that make children sweet-tempered.
i only wish people knew that: then they would n't be so stingy about it, you know --" she had quite forgotten the duchess by this time, and was a little startled when she heard her voice close to her ear.
"you're thinking about something, my dear, and that makes you forget to talk.
i ca n't tell you just now what the moral of that is, but i shall remember it in a bit."
"perhaps it has n't one," alice ventured to remark.
"tut, tut, child!"
said the duchess.
"everything's got a moral, if only you can find it."
and she squeezed herself up closer to alice's side as she spoke.
alice did not much like keeping so close to her: first, because the duchess was very ugly; and secondly, because she was exactly the right height to rest her chin upon alice's shoulder, and it was an uncomfortably sharp chin.
however, she did not like to be rude, so she bore it as well as she could.
"the game's going on rather better now," she said, by way of keeping up the conversation a little."
tis so," said the duchess: "and the moral of that is -- "oh,'t is love,'t is love, that makes the world go round!""
"somebody said," alice whispered, "that it's done by everybody minding their own business!"
"ah, well!
it means much the same thing," said the duchess, digging her sharp little chin into alice's shoulder as she added, "and the moral of that is -- "take care of the sense, and the sounds will take care of themselves.""
"how fond she is of finding morals in things!"
alice thought to herself."
i dare say you're wondering why i do n't put my arm round your waist," the duchess said after a pause: "the reason is, that i'm doubtful about the temper of your flamingo.
shall i try the experiment?"
"he might bite," alice cautiously replied, not feeling at all anxious to have the experiment tried.
"very true," said the duchess: "flamingoes and mustard both bite.
and the moral of that is -- "birds of a feather flock together.""
"only mustard is n't a bird," alice remarked.
"right, as usual," said the duchess: "what a clear way you have of putting things!"
"it's a mineral, i think," said alice.
"of course it is," said the duchess, who seemed ready to agree to everything that alice said; "there's a large mustard-mine near here.
and the moral of that is -- "the more there is of mine, the less there is of yours.""
"oh, i know!"
exclaimed alice, who had not attended to this last remark, "it's a vegetable.
it does n't look like one, but it is.'"
i quite agree with you," said the duchess; "and the moral of that is -- "be what you would seem to be" -- or if you'd like it put more simply -- "never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise."'"
i think i should understand that better," alice said very politely, "if i had it written down: but i ca n't quite follow it as you say it."
"that's nothing to what i could say if i chose," the duchess replied, in a pleased tone.
"pray do n't trouble yourself to say it any longer than that," said alice.
"oh, do n't talk about trouble!"
said the duchess."
i make you a present of everything i've said as yet.'"
a cheap sort of present!"
thought alice.
"i'm glad they do n't give birthday presents like that!"
but she did not venture to say it out loud.
"thinking again?"
the duchess asked, with another dig of her sharp little chin.
"i've a right to think," said alice sharply, for she was beginning to feel a little worried.
"just about as much right," said the duchess, "as pigs have to fly; and the m --" but here, to alice's great surprise, the duchess's voice died away, even in the middle of her favourite word "moral," and the arm that was linked into hers began to tremble.
alice looked up, and there stood the queen in front of them, with her arms folded, frowning like a thunderstorm."
a fine day, your majesty!"
the duchess began in a low, weak voice.
"now, i give you fair warning," shouted the queen, stamping on the ground as she spoke; "either you or your head must be off, and that in about half no time!
take your choice!"
the duchess took her choice, and was gone in a moment.
"let's go on with the game," the queen said to alice; and alice was too much frightened to say a word, but slowly followed her back to the croquet-ground.
the other guests had taken advantage of the queen's absence, and were resting in the shade: however, the moment they saw her, they hurried back to the game, the queen merely remarking that a moment's delay would cost them their lives.
all the time they were playing the queen never left off quarrelling with the other players, and shouting "off with his head!"
or "off with her head!"
those whom she sentenced were taken into custody by the soldiers, who of course had to leave off being arches to do this, so that by the end of half an hour or so there were no arches left, and all the players, except the king, the queen, and alice, were in custody and under sentence of execution.
then the queen left off, quite out of breath, and said to alice, "have you seen the mock turtle yet?"
"no," said alice."
i do n't even know what a mock turtle is."
"it's the thing mock turtle soup is made from," said the queen."
i never saw one, or heard of one," said alice.
"come on, then," said the queen, "and he shall tell you his history," as they walked off together, alice heard the king say in a low voice, to the company generally, "you are all pardoned."
"come, that's a good thing!"
she said to herself, for she had felt quite unhappy at the number of executions the queen had ordered.
they very soon came upon a gryphon, lying fast asleep in the sun.
-lrb- if you do n't know what a gryphon is, look at the picture. -rrb-
"up, lazy thing!"
said the queen, "and take this young lady to see the mock turtle, and to hear his history.
i must go back and see after some executions i have ordered"; and she walked off, leaving alice alone with the gryphon.
alice did not quite like the look of the creature, but on the whole she thought it would be quite as safe to stay with it as to go after that savage queen: so she waited.
the gryphon sat up and rubbed its eyes: then it watched the queen till she was out of sight: then it chuckled.
"what fun!"
said the gryphon, half to itself, half to alice.
"what is the fun?"
said alice.
"why, she," said the gryphon.
"it's all her fancy, that: they never executes nobody, you know.
come on!"
"everybody says "come on!"
here," thought alice, as she went slowly after it: "i never was so ordered about in all my life, never!"
they had not gone far before they saw the mock turtle in the distance, sitting sad and lonely on a little ledge of rock, and, as they came nearer, alice could hear him sighing as if his heart would break.
she pitied him deeply.
"what is his sorrow?"
she asked the gryphon, and the gryphon answered, very nearly in the same words as before, "it's all his fancy, that: he has n't got no sorrow, you know.
come on!"
so they went up to the mock turtle, who looked at them with large eyes full of tears, but said nothing.
"this here young lady," said the gryphon, "she wants for to know your history, she do."
"i'll tell it her," said the mock turtle in a deep, hollow tone: "sit down, both of you, and do n't speak a word till i've finished."
so they sat down, and nobody spoke for some minutes.
alice thought to herself," i do n't see how he can even finish, if he does n't begin."
but she waited patiently.
"once," said the mock turtle at last, with a deep sigh," i was a real turtle."
these words were followed by a very long silence, broken only by an occasional exclamation of "hjckrrh!"
from the gryphon, and the constant heavy sobbing of the mock turtle.
alice was very nearly getting up and saying, "thank you, sir, for your interesting story," but she could not help thinking there must be more to come, so she sat still and said nothing.
"when we were little," the mock turtle went on at last, more calmly, though still sobbing a little now and then, "we went to school in the sea.
the master was an old turtle -- we used to call him tortoise --" "why did you call him tortoise, if he was n't one?"
alice asked.
"we called him tortoise because he taught us," said the mock turtle angrily: "really you are very dull!"
"you ought to be ashamed of yourself for asking such a simple question," added the gryphon; and then they both sat silent and looked at poor alice, who felt ready to sink into the earth.
at last the gryphon said to the mock turtle, "drive on, old fellow!
do n't be all day about it!"
and he went on in these words: "yes, we went to school in the sea, though you may n't believe it --"' i never said i did n't!"
interrupted alice.
"you did," said the mock turtle.
"hold your tongue!"
added the gryphon, before alice could speak again.
the mock turtle went on.
"we had the best of educations -- in fact, we went to school every day --" "i've been to a day-school, too," said alice; "you need n't be so proud as all that."
"with extras?"
asked the mock turtle a little anxiously.
"yes," said alice, "we learned french and music."
"and washing?"
said the mock turtle.
"certainly not!"
said alice indignantly.
"ah!
then yours was n't a really good school," said the mock turtle in a tone of great relief.
"now at ours they had at the end of the bill, "french, music, and washing -- extra.""
"you could n't have wanted it much," said alice; "living at the bottom of the sea.'"
i could n't afford to learn it."
said the mock turtle with a sigh."
i only took the regular course."
"what was that?"
inquired alice.
"reeling and writhing, of course, to begin with," the mock turtle replied; "and then the different branches of arithmetic -- ambition, distraction, uglification, and derision.'"
i never heard of "uglification,"" alice ventured to say.
"what is it?"
the gryphon lifted up both its paws in surprise.
"what!
never heard of uglifying!"
it exclaimed.
"you know what to beautify is, i suppose?"
"yes," said alice doubtfully: "it means -- to -- make -- anything -- prettier."
"well, then," the gryphon went on, "if you do n't know what to uglify is, you are a simpleton."
alice did not feel encouraged to ask any more questions about it, so she turned to the mock turtle, and said "what else had you to learn?"
"well, there was mystery," the mock turtle replied, counting off the subjects on his flappers," -- mystery, ancient and modern, with seaography: then drawling -- the drawling-master was an old conger-eel, that used to come once a week: he taught us drawling, stretching, and fainting in coils."
"what was that like?"
said alice.
"well, i ca n't show it you myself," the mock turtle said: "i'm too stiff.
and the gryphon never learnt it."
"had n't time," said the gryphon: "i went to the classics master, though.
he was an old crab, he was.'"
i never went to him," the mock turtle said with a sigh: "he taught laughing and grief, they used to say."
"so he did, so he did," said the gryphon, sighing in his turn; and both creatures hid their faces in their paws.
"and how many hours a day did you do lessons?"
said alice, in a hurry to change the subject.
"ten hours the first day," said the mock turtle: "nine the next, and so on."
"what a curious plan!"
exclaimed alice.
"that's the reason they're called lessons," the gryphon remarked: "because they lessen from day to day."
this was quite a new idea to alice, and she thought it over a little before she made her next remark.
"then the eleventh day must have been a holiday?"
"of course it was," said the mock turtle.
"and how did you manage on the twelfth?"
alice went on eagerly.
"that's enough about lessons," the gryphon interrupted in a very decided tone: "tell her something about the games now."
chapter x.
the lobster quadrille the mock turtle sighed deeply, and drew the back of one flapper across his eyes.
he looked at alice, and tried to speak, but for a minute or two sobs choked his voice.
"same as if he had a bone in his throat," said the gryphon: and it set to work shaking him and punching him in the back.
at last the mock turtle recovered his voice, and, with tears running down his cheeks, he went on again: -- "you may not have lived much under the sea --" -lrb-" i have n't," said alice -rrb- -- "and perhaps you were never even introduced to a lobster --" -lrb- alice began to say" i once tasted --" but checked herself hastily, and said "no, never" -rrb-" -- so you can have no idea what a delightful thing a lobster quadrille is!"
"no, indeed," said alice.
"what sort of a dance is it?"
"why," said the gryphon, "you first form into a line along the sea-shore --" "two lines!"
cried the mock turtle.
"seals, turtles, salmon, and so on; then, when you've cleared all the jelly-fish out of the way --" "that generally takes some time," interrupted the gryphon."
-- you advance twice --" "each with a lobster as a partner!"
cried the gryphon.
"of course," the mock turtle said: "advance twice, set to partners --"' -- change lobsters, and retire in same order," continued the gryphon.
"then, you know," the mock turtle went on, "you throw the --" "the lobsters!"
shouted the gryphon, with a bound into the air."
-- as far out to sea as you can --" "swim after them!"
screamed the gryphon.
"turn a somersault in the sea!"
cried the mock turtle, capering wildly about.
"change lobsters again!"
yelled the gryphon at the top of its voice.
"back to land again, and that's all the first figure," said the mock turtle, suddenly dropping his voice; and the two creatures, who had been jumping about like mad things all this time, sat down again very sadly and quietly, and looked at alice.
"it must be a very pretty dance," said alice timidly.
"would you like to see a little of it?"
said the mock turtle.
"very much indeed," said alice.
"come, let's try the first figure!"
said the mock turtle to the gryphon.
"we can do without lobsters, you know.
which shall sing?"
"oh, you sing," said the gryphon.
"i've forgotten the words."
so they began solemnly dancing round and round alice, every now and then treading on her toes when they passed too close, and waving their forepaws to mark the time, while the mock turtle sang this, very slowly and sadly: --" "will you walk a little faster?"
said a whiting to a snail.
""there's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail.
see how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
they are waiting on the shingle -- will you come and join the dance?
will you, wo n't you, will you, wo n't you, will you join the dance?
will you, wo n't you, will you, wo n't you, wo n't you join the dance?
""you can really have no notion how delightful it will be when they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!"
but the snail replied "too far, too far!"
and gave a look askance -- said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance.
would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance.
would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance."
""what matters it how far we go?"
his scaly friend replied.
""there is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
the further off from england the nearer is to france -- then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.
will you, wo n't you, will you, wo n't you, will you join the dance?
will you, wo n't you, will you, wo n't you, wo n't you join the dance?""
"thank you, it's a very interesting dance to watch," said alice, feeling very glad that it was over at last: "and i do so like that curious song about the whiting!"
"oh, as to the whiting," said the mock turtle, "they -- you've seen them, of course?"
"yes," said alice, "i've often seen them at dinn --" she checked herself hastily."
i do n't know where dinn may be," said the mock turtle, "but if you've seen them so often, of course you know what they're like.'"
i believe so," alice replied thoughtfully.
"they have their tails in their mouths -- and they're all over crumbs."
"you're wrong about the crumbs," said the mock turtle: "crumbs would all wash off in the sea.
but they have their tails in their mouths; and the reason is --" here the mock turtle yawned and shut his eyes.
-- "tell her about the reason and all that," he said to the gryphon.
"the reason is," said the gryphon, "that they would go with the lobsters to the dance.
so they got thrown out to sea.
so they had to fall a long way.
so they got their tails fast in their mouths.
so they could n't get them out again.
that's all."
"thank you," said alice, "it's very interesting.
i never knew so much about a whiting before.'"
i can tell you more than that, if you like," said the gryphon.
"do you know why it's called a whiting?'"
i never thought about it," said alice.
"why?"
"it does the boots and shoes."
the gryphon replied very solemnly.
alice was thoroughly puzzled.
"does the boots and shoes!"
she repeated in a wondering tone.
"why, what are your shoes done with?"
said the gryphon."
i mean, what makes them so shiny?"
alice looked down at them, and considered a little before she gave her answer.
"they're done with blacking, i believe."
"boots and shoes under the sea," the gryphon went on in a deep voice, "are done with a whiting.
now you know."
"and what are they made of?"
alice asked in a tone of great curiosity.
"soles and eels, of course," the gryphon replied rather impatiently: "any shrimp could have told you that."
"if i'd been the whiting," said alice, whose thoughts were still running on the song, "i'd have said to the porpoise, "keep back, please: we do n't want you with us!""
"they were obliged to have him with them," the mock turtle said: "no wise fish would go anywhere without a porpoise."
"would n't it really?"
said alice in a tone of great surprise.
"of course not," said the mock turtle: "why, if a fish came to me, and told me he was going a journey, i should say "with what porpoise?""
"do n't you mean "purpose"?"
said alice."
i mean what i say," the mock turtle replied in an offended tone.
and the gryphon added "come, let's hear some of your adventures.'"
i could tell you my adventures -- beginning from this morning," said alice a little timidly: "but it's no use going back to yesterday, because i was a different person then."
"explain all that," said the mock turtle.
"no, no!
the adventures first," said the gryphon in an impatient tone: "explanations take such a dreadful time."
so alice began telling them her adventures from the time when she first saw the white rabbit.
she was a little nervous about it just at first, the two creatures got so close to her, one on each side, and opened their eyes and mouths so very wide, but she gained courage as she went on.
her listeners were perfectly quiet till she got to the part about her repeating "you are old, father william," to the caterpillar, and the words all coming different, and then the mock turtle drew a long breath, and said "that's very curious."
"it's all about as curious as it can be," said the gryphon.
"it all came different!"
the mock turtle repeated thoughtfully."
i should like to hear her try and repeat something now.
tell her to begin."
he looked at the gryphon as if he thought it had some kind of authority over alice.
"stand up and repeat"'t is the voice of the sluggard,"" said the gryphon.
"how the creatures order one about, and make one repeat lessons!"
thought alice;" i might as well be at school at once."
however, she got up, and began to repeat it, but her head was so full of the lobster quadrille, that she hardly knew what she was saying, and the words came very queer indeed: --" tis the voice of the lobster; i heard him declare, "you have baked me too brown, i must sugar my hair."
as a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes."
-lsb- later editions continued as follows when the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark, and will talk in contemptuous tones of the shark, but, when the tide rises and sharks are around, his voice has a timid and tremulous sound. -rsb-
"that's different from what i used to say when i was a child," said the gryphon.
"well, i never heard it before," said the mock turtle; "but it sounds uncommon nonsense."
alice said nothing; she had sat down with her face in her hands, wondering if anything would ever happen in a natural way again."
i should like to have it explained," said the mock turtle.
"she ca n't explain it," said the gryphon hastily.
"go on with the next verse."
"but about his toes?"
the mock turtle persisted.
"how could he turn them out with his nose, you know?"
"it's the first position in dancing."
alice said; but was dreadfully puzzled by the whole thing, and longed to change the subject.
"go on with the next verse," the gryphon repeated impatiently: "it begins "i passed by his garden.""
alice did not dare to disobey, though she felt sure it would all come wrong, and she went on in a trembling voice: --" i passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye, how the owl and the panther were sharing a pie --" -lsb- later editions continued as follows the panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat, while the owl had the dish as its share of the treat.
when the pie was all finished, the owl, as a boon, was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon: while the panther received knife and fork with a growl, and concluded the banquet -- -rsb- "what is the use of repeating all that stuff," the mock turtle interrupted, "if you do n't explain it as you go on?
it's by far the most confusing thing i ever heard!"
"yes, i think you'd better leave off," said the gryphon: and alice was only too glad to do so.
"shall we try another figure of the lobster quadrille?"
the gryphon went on.
"or would you like the mock turtle to sing you a song?"
"oh, a song, please, if the mock turtle would be so kind," alice replied, so eagerly that the gryphon said, in a rather offended tone, "hm!
no accounting for tastes!
sing her "turtle soup," will you, old fellow?"
the mock turtle sighed deeply, and began, in a voice sometimes choked with sobs, to sing this: -- "beautiful soup, so rich and green, waiting in a hot tureen!
who for such dainties would not stoop?
soup of the evening, beautiful soup!
soup of the evening, beautiful soup!
beau -- ootiful soo -- oop!
beau -- ootiful soo -- oop!
soo -- oop of the e -- e -- evening, beautiful, beautiful soup!
"beautiful soup!
who cares for fish, game, or any other dish?
who would not give all else for two pennyworth only of beautiful soup?
pennyworth only of beautiful soup?
beau -- ootiful soo -- oop!
beau -- ootiful soo -- oop!
soo -- oop of the e -- e -- evening, beautiful, beauti -- ful soup!"
"chorus again!"
cried the gryphon, and the mock turtle had just begun to repeat it, when a cry of "the trial's beginning!"
was heard in the distance.
"come on!"
cried the gryphon, and, taking alice by the hand, it hurried off, without waiting for the end of the song.
"what trial is it?"
alice panted as she ran; but the gryphon only answered "come on!"
and ran the faster, while more and more faintly came, carried on the breeze that followed them, the melancholy words: -- "soo -- oop of the e -- e -- evening, beautiful, beautiful soup!"
chapter xi.
who stole the tarts?
the king and queen of hearts were seated on their throne when they arrived, with a great crowd assembled about them -- all sorts of little birds and beasts, as well as the whole pack of cards: the knave was standing before them, in chains, with a soldier on each side to guard him; and near the king was the white rabbit, with a trumpet in one hand, and a scroll of parchment in the other.
in the very middle of the court was a table, with a large dish of tarts upon it: they looked so good, that it made alice quite hungry to look at them --" i wish they'd get the trial done," she thought, "and hand round the refreshments!"
but there seemed to be no chance of this, so she began looking at everything about her, to pass away the time.
alice had never been in a court of justice before, but she had read about them in books, and she was quite pleased to find that she knew the name of nearly everything there.
"that's the judge," she said to herself, "because of his great wig."
the judge, by the way, was the king; and as he wore his crown over the wig, -lrb- look at the frontispiece if you want to see how he did it, -rrb- he did not look at all comfortable, and it was certainly not becoming.
"and that's the jury-box," thought alice, "and those twelve creatures," -lrb- she was obliged to say "creatures," you see, because some of them were animals, and some were birds, -rrb-" i suppose they are the jurors."
she said this last word two or three times over to herself, being rather proud of it: for she thought, and rightly too, that very few little girls of her age knew the meaning of it at all.
however, "jury-men" would have done just as well.
the twelve jurors were all writing very busily on slates.
"what are they doing?"
alice whispered to the gryphon.
"they ca n't have anything to put down yet, before the trial's begun."
"they're putting down their names," the gryphon whispered in reply, "for fear they should forget them before the end of the trial."
"stupid things!"
alice began in a loud, indignant voice, but she stopped hastily, for the white rabbit cried out, "silence in the court!"
and the king put on his spectacles and looked anxiously round, to make out who was talking.
alice could see, as well as if she were looking over their shoulders, that all the jurors were writing down "stupid things!"
on their slates, and she could even make out that one of them did n't know how to spell "stupid," and that he had to ask his neighbour to tell him."
a nice muddle their slates'll be in before the trial's over!"
thought alice.
one of the jurors had a pencil that squeaked.
this of course, alice could not stand, and she went round the court and got behind him, and very soon found an opportunity of taking it away.
she did it so quickly that the poor little juror -lrb- it was bill, the lizard -rrb- could not make out at all what had become of it; so, after hunting all about for it, he was obliged to write with one finger for the rest of the day; and this was of very little use, as it left no mark on the slate.
"herald, read the accusation!"
said the king.
on this the white rabbit blew three blasts on the trumpet, and then unrolled the parchment scroll, and read as follows: -- "the queen of hearts, she made some tarts, all on a summer day: the knave of hearts, he stole those tarts, and took them quite away!"
"consider your verdict," the king said to the jury.
"not yet, not yet!"
the rabbit hastily interrupted.
"there's a great deal to come before that!"
"call the first witness," said the king; and the white rabbit blew three blasts on the trumpet, and called out, "first witness!"
the first witness was the hatter.
he came in with a teacup in one hand and a piece of bread-and-butter in the other."
i beg pardon, your majesty," he began, "for bringing these in: but i had n't quite finished my tea when i was sent for."
"you ought to have finished," said the king.
"when did you begin?"
the hatter looked at the march hare, who had followed him into the court, arm-in-arm with the dormouse.
"fourteenth of march, i think it was," he said.
"fifteenth," said the march hare.
"sixteenth," added the dormouse.
"write that down," the king said to the jury, and the jury eagerly wrote down all three dates on their slates, and then added them up, and reduced the answer to shillings and pence.
"take off your hat," the king said to the hatter.
"it is n't mine," said the hatter.
"stolen!"
the king exclaimed, turning to the jury, who instantly made a memorandum of the fact."
i keep them to sell," the hatter added as an explanation; "i've none of my own.
i'm a hatter."
here the queen put on her spectacles, and began staring at the hatter, who turned pale and fidgeted.
"give your evidence," said the king; "and do n't be nervous, or i'll have you executed on the spot."
this did not seem to encourage the witness at all: he kept shifting from one foot to the other, looking uneasily at the queen, and in his confusion he bit a large piece out of his teacup instead of the bread-and-butter.
just at this moment alice felt a very curious sensation, which puzzled her a good deal until she made out what it was: she was beginning to grow larger again, and she thought at first she would get up and leave the court; but on second thoughts she decided to remain where she was as long as there was room for her."
i wish you would n't squeeze so."
said the dormouse, who was sitting next to her."
i can hardly breathe.'"
i ca n't help it," said alice very meekly: "i'm growing."
"you've no right to grow here," said the dormouse.
"do n't talk nonsense," said alice more boldly: "you know you're growing too."
"yes, but i grow at a reasonable pace," said the dormouse: "not in that ridiculous fashion."
and he got up very sulkily and crossed over to the other side of the court.
all this time the queen had never left off staring at the hatter, and, just as the dormouse crossed the court, she said to one of the officers of the court, "bring me the list of the singers in the last concert!"
on which the wretched hatter trembled so, that he shook both his shoes off.
"give your evidence," the king repeated angrily, "or i'll have you executed, whether you're nervous or not."
"i'm a poor man, your majesty," the hatter began, in a trembling voice," -- and i had n't begun my tea -- not above a week or so -- and what with the bread-and-butter getting so thin -- and the twinkling of the tea --" "the twinkling of the what?"
said the king.
"it began with the tea," the hatter replied.
"of course twinkling begins with a t!"
said the king sharply.
"do you take me for a dunce?
go on!"
"i'm a poor man," the hatter went on, "and most things twinkled after that -- only the march hare said --"' i did n't!"
the march hare interrupted in a great hurry.
"you did!"
said the hatter."
i deny it!"
said the march hare.
"he denies it," said the king: "leave out that part."
"well, at any rate, the dormouse said --" the hatter went on, looking anxiously round to see if he would deny it too: but the dormouse denied nothing, being fast asleep.
"after that," continued the hatter," i cut some more bread-and-butter --" "but what did the dormouse say?"
one of the jury asked.
"that i ca n't remember," said the hatter.
"you must remember," remarked the king, "or i'll have you executed."
the miserable hatter dropped his teacup and bread-and-butter, and went down on one knee.
"i'm a poor man, your majesty," he began.
"you're a very poor speaker," said the king.
here one of the guinea-pigs cheered, and was immediately suppressed by the officers of the court.
-lrb- as that is rather a hard word, i will just explain to you how it was done.
they had a large canvas bag, which tied up at the mouth with strings: into this they slipped the guinea-pig, head first, and then sat upon it. -rrb-
"i'm glad i've seen that done," thought alice.
"i've so often read in the newspapers, at the end of trials, "there was some attempts at applause, which was immediately suppressed by the officers of the court," and i never understood what it meant till now."
"if that's all you know about it, you may stand down," continued the king."
i ca n't go no lower," said the hatter: "i'm on the floor, as it is."
"then you may sit down," the king replied.
here the other guinea-pig cheered, and was suppressed.
"come, that finished the guinea-pigs!"
thought alice.
"now we shall get on better."
"i'd rather finish my tea," said the hatter, with an anxious look at the queen, who was reading the list of singers.
"you may go," said the king, and the hatter hurriedly left the court, without even waiting to put his shoes on."
-- and just take his head off outside," the queen added to one of the officers: but the hatter was out of sight before the officer could get to the door.
"call the next witness!"
said the king.
the next witness was the duchess's cook.
she carried the pepper-box in her hand, and alice guessed who it was, even before she got into the court, by the way the people near the door began sneezing all at once.
"give your evidence," said the king.
"sha n't," said the cook.
the king looked anxiously at the white rabbit, who said in a low voice, "your majesty must cross-examine this witness."
"well, if i must, i must," the king said, with a melancholy air, and, after folding his arms and frowning at the cook till his eyes were nearly out of sight, he said in a deep voice, "what are tarts made of?"
"pepper, mostly," said the cook.
"treacle," said a sleepy voice behind her.
"collar that dormouse," the queen shrieked out.
"behead that dormouse!
turn that dormouse out of court!
suppress him!
pinch him!
off with his whiskers!"
for some minutes the whole court was in confusion, getting the dormouse turned out, and, by the time they had settled down again, the cook had disappeared.
"never mind!"
said the king, with an air of great relief.
"call the next witness."
and he added in an undertone to the queen, "really, my dear, you must cross-examine the next witness.
it quite makes my forehead ache!"
alice watched the white rabbit as he fumbled over the list, feeling very curious to see what the next witness would be like," -- for they have n't got much evidence yet," she said to herself.
imagine her surprise, when the white rabbit read out, at the top of his shrill little voice, the name "alice!"
chapter xii.
alice's evidence "here!"
cried alice, quite forgetting in the flurry of the moment how large she had grown in the last few minutes, and she jumped up in such a hurry that she tipped over the jury-box with the edge of her skirt, upsetting all the jurymen on to the heads of the crowd below, and there they lay sprawling about, reminding her very much of a globe of goldfish she had accidentally upset the week before.
"oh, i beg your pardon!"
she exclaimed in a tone of great dismay, and began picking them up again as quickly as she could, for the accident of the goldfish kept running in her head, and she had a vague sort of idea that they must be collected at once and put back into the jury-box, or they would die.
"the trial can not proceed," said the king in a very grave voice, "until all the jurymen are back in their proper places -- all," he repeated with great emphasis, looking hard at alice as he said do.
alice looked at the jury-box, and saw that, in her haste, she had put the lizard in head downwards, and the poor little thing was waving its tail about in a melancholy way, being quite unable to move.
she soon got it out again, and put it right; "not that it signifies much," she said to herself;" i should think it would be quite as much use in the trial one way up as the other."
as soon as the jury had a little recovered from the shock of being upset, and their slates and pencils had been found and handed back to them, they set to work very diligently to write out a history of the accident, all except the lizard, who seemed too much overcome to do anything but sit with its mouth open, gazing up into the roof of the court.
"what do you know about this business?"
the king said to alice.
"nothing," said alice.
"nothing whatever?"
persisted the king.
"nothing whatever," said alice.
"that's very important," the king said, turning to the jury.
they were just beginning to write this down on their slates, when the white rabbit interrupted: "unimportant, your majesty means, of course," he said in a very respectful tone, but frowning and making faces at him as he spoke.
"unimportant, of course, i meant," the king hastily said, and went on to himself in an undertone, "important -- unimportant -- unimportant -- important --" as if he were trying which word sounded best.
some of the jury wrote it down "important," and some "unimportant."
alice could see this, as she was near enough to look over their slates; "but it does n't matter a bit," she thought to herself.
at this moment the king, who had been for some time busily writing in his note-book, cackled out "silence!"
and read out from his book, "rule forty-two.
all persons more than a mile high to leave the court."
everybody looked at alice.
"i'm not a mile high," said alice.
"you are," said the king.
"nearly two miles high," added the queen.
"well, i sha n't go, at any rate," said alice: "besides, that's not a regular rule: you invented it just now."
"it's the oldest rule in the book," said the king.
"then it ought to be number one," said alice.
the king turned pale, and shut his note-book hastily.
"consider your verdict," he said to the jury, in a low, trembling voice.
"there's more evidence to come yet, please your majesty," said the white rabbit, jumping up in a great hurry; "this paper has just been picked up."
"what's in it?"
said the queen."
i have n't opened it yet," said the white rabbit, "but it seems to be a letter, written by the prisoner to -- to somebody."
"it must have been that," said the king, "unless it was written to nobody, which is n't usual, you know."
"who is it directed to?"
said one of the jurymen.
"it is n't directed at all," said the white rabbit; "in fact, there's nothing written on the outside."
he unfolded the paper as he spoke, and added "it is n't a letter, after all: it's a set of verses."
"are they in the prisoner's handwriting?"
asked another of the jurymen.
"no, they're not," said the white rabbit, "and that's the queerest thing about it."
-lrb- the jury all looked puzzled. -rrb-
"he must have imitated somebody else's hand," said the king.
-lrb- the jury all brightened up again. -rrb-
"please your majesty," said the knave," i did n't write it, and they ca n't prove i did: there's no name signed at the end."
"if you did n't sign it," said the king, "that only makes the matter worse.
you must have meant some mischief, or else you'd have signed your name like an honest man."
there was a general clapping of hands at this: it was the first really clever thing the king had said that day.
"that proves his guilt," said the queen.
"it proves nothing of the sort!"
said alice.
"why, you do n't even know what they're about!"
"read them," said the king.
the white rabbit put on his spectacles.
"where shall i begin, please your majesty?"
he asked.
"begin at the beginning," the king said gravely, "and go on till you come to the end: then stop."
these were the verses the white rabbit read: -- "they told me you had been to her, and mentioned me to him: she gave me a good character, but said i could not swim.
he sent them word i had not gone -lrb- we know it to be true -rrb-: if she should push the matter on, what would become of you?
i gave her one, they gave him two, you gave us three or more; they all returned from him to you, though they were mine before.
if i or she should chance to be involved in this affair, he trusts to you to set them free, exactly as we were.
my notion was that you had been -lrb- before she had this fit -rrb- an obstacle that came between him, and ourselves, and it.
do n't let him know she liked them best, for this must ever be a secret, kept from all the rest, between yourself and me."
"that's the most important piece of evidence we've heard yet," said the king, rubbing his hands; "so now let the jury --" "if any one of them can explain it," said alice, -lrb- she had grown so large in the last few minutes that she was n't a bit afraid of interrupting him, -rrb- "i'll give him sixpence.
i do n't believe there's an atom of meaning in it."
the jury all wrote down on their slates, "she does n't believe there's an atom of meaning in it," but none of them attempted to explain the paper.
"if there's no meaning in it," said the king, "that saves a world of trouble, you know, as we need n't try to find any.
and yet i do n't know," he went on, spreading out the verses on his knee, and looking at them with one eye;" i seem to see some meaning in them, after all."
-- said i could not swim --" you ca n't swim, can you?"
he added, turning to the knave.
the knave shook his head sadly.
"do i look like it?"
he said.
-lrb- which he certainly did not, being made entirely of cardboard. -rrb-
"all right, so far," said the king, and he went on muttering over the verses to himself: """we know it to be true --" that's the jury, of course -- "i gave her one, they gave him two --" why, that must be what he did with the tarts, you know --" "but, it goes on "they all returned from him to you,"" said alice.
"why, there they are!"
said the king triumphantly, pointing to the tarts on the table.
"nothing can be clearer than that.
then again -- "before she had this fit --" you never had fits, my dear, i think?"
he said to the queen.
"never!"
said the queen furiously, throwing an inkstand at the lizard as she spoke.
-lrb- the unfortunate little bill had left off writing on his slate with one finger, as he found it made no mark; but he now hastily began again, using the ink, that was trickling down his face, as long as it lasted. -rrb-
"then the words do n't fit you," said the king, looking round the court with a smile.
there was a dead silence.
"it's a pun!"
the king added in an offended tone, and everybody laughed, "let the jury consider their verdict," the king said, for about the twentieth time that day.
"no, no!"
said the queen.
"sentence first -- verdict afterwards."
"stuff and nonsense!"
said alice loudly.
"the idea of having the sentence first!"
"hold your tongue!"
said the queen, turning purple."
i wo n't!"
said alice.
"off with her head!"
the queen shouted at the top of her voice.
nobody moved.
"who cares for you?"
said alice, -lrb- she had grown to her full size by this time. -rrb-
"you're nothing but a pack of cards!"
at this the whole pack rose up into the air, and came flying down upon her: she gave a little scream, half of fright and half of anger, and tried to beat them off, and found herself lying on the bank, with her head in the lap of her sister, who was gently brushing away some dead leaves that had fluttered down from the trees upon her face.
"wake up, alice dear!"
said her sister; "why, what a long sleep you've had!"
"oh, i've had such a curious dream!"
said alice, and she told her sister, as well as she could remember them, all these strange adventures of hers that you have just been reading about; and when she had finished, her sister kissed her, and said, "it was a curious dream, dear, certainly: but now run in to your tea; it's getting late."
so alice got up and ran off, thinking while she ran, as well she might, what a wonderful dream it had been.
but her sister sat still just as she left her, leaning her head on her hand, watching the setting sun, and thinking of little alice and all her wonderful adventures, till she too began dreaming after a fashion, and this was her dream: -- first, she dreamed of little alice herself, and once again the tiny hands were clasped upon her knee, and the bright eager eyes were looking up into hers -- she could hear the very tones of her voice, and see that queer little toss of her head to keep back the wandering hair that would always get into her eyes -- and still as she listened, or seemed to listen, the whole place around her became alive with the strange creatures of her little sister's dream.
the long grass rustled at her feet as the white rabbit hurried by -- the frightened mouse splashed his way through the neighbouring pool -- she could hear the rattle of the teacups as the march hare and his friends shared their never-ending meal, and the shrill voice of the queen ordering off her unfortunate guests to execution -- once more the pig-baby was sneezing on the duchess's knee, while plates and dishes crashed around it -- once more the shriek of the gryphon, the squeaking of the lizard's slate-pencil, and the choking of the suppressed guinea-pigs, filled the air, mixed up with the distant sobs of the miserable mock turtle.
so she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again, and all would change to dull reality -- the grass would be only rustling in the wind, and the pool rippling to the waving of the reeds -- the rattling teacups would change to tinkling sheep-bells, and the queen's shrill cries to the voice of the shepherd boy -- and the sneeze of the baby, the shriek of the gryphon, and all the other queer noises, would change -lrb- she knew -rrb- to the confused clamour of the busy farm-yard -- while the lowing of the cattle in the distance would take the place of the mock turtle's heavy sobs.
lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers would, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how she would keep, through all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her childhood: and how she would gather about her other little children, and make their eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even with the dream of wonderland of long ago: and how she would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days.
_book_title_: lucy_maud_montgomery___lucy_maud_montgomery_short_stories,_1902_to_1903.txt.out
a patent medicine testimonial "you might as well try to move the rock of gibraltar as attempt to change uncle abimelech's mind when it is once made up," said murray gloomily.
murray is like dear old dad; he gets discouraged rather easily.
now, i'm not like that; i'm more like mother's folks.
as uncle abimelech has never failed to tell me when i have annoyed him, i'm "all foster."
uncle abimelech does n't like the fosters.
but i'm glad i take after them.
if i had folded my hands and sat down meekly when uncle abimelech made known his good will and pleasure regarding murray and me after father's death, murray would never have got to college -- nor i either, for that matter.
only i would n't have minded that very much.
i just wanted to go to college because murray did.
i could n't be separated from him.
we were twins and had always been together.
as for uncle abimelech's mind, i knew that he never had been known to change it.
but, as he himself was fond of saying, there has to be a first time for everything, and i had determined that this was to be the first time for him.
i had n't any idea how i was going to bring it about; but it just had to be done, and i'm not "all foster" for nothing.
i knew i would have to depend on my own thinkers.
murray is clever at books and dissecting dead things, but he could n't help me out in this, even if he had n't settled beforehand that there was no use in opposing uncle abimelech.
""i'm going up to the garret to think this out, murray," i said solemnly.
""do n't let anybody disturb me, and if uncle abimelech comes over do n't tell him where i am.
if i do n't come down in time to get tea, get it yourself.
i shall not leave the garret until i have thought of some way to change uncle abimelech's mind."
""then you'll be a prisoner there for the term of your natural life, dear sis," said murray sceptically.
""you're a clever girl, prue -- and you've got enough decision for two -- but you'll never get the better of uncle abimelech."
""we'll see," i said resolutely, and up to the garret i went.
i shut the door and bolted it good and fast to make sure.
then i piled some old cushions in the window seat -- for one might as well be comfortable when one is thinking as not -- and went over the whole ground from the beginning.
outside the wind was thrashing the broad, leafy top of the maple whose tallest twigs reached to the funny grey eaves of our old house.
one roly-poly little sparrow blew or flew to the sill and sat there for a minute, looking at me with knowing eyes.
down below i could see murray in a corner of the yard, pottering over a sick duck.
he had set its broken leg and was nursing it back to health.
anyone except uncle abimelech could see that murray was simply born to be a doctor and that it was flying in the face of providence to think of making him anything else.
from the garret windows i could see all over the farm, for the house is on the hill end of it.
i could see all the dear old fields and the spring meadow and the beech woods in the southwest corner.
and beyond the orchard were the two grey barns and down below at the right-hand corner was the garden with all my sweet peas fluttering over the fences and trellises like a horde of butterflies.
it was a dear old place and both murray and i loved every stick and stone on it, but there was no reason why we should go on living there when murray did n't like farming.
and it was n't our own, anyhow.
it all belonged to uncle abimelech.
father and murray and i had always lived here together.
father's health broke down during his college course.
that was one reason why uncle abimelech was set against murray going to college, although murray is as chubby and sturdy a fellow as you could wish to see.
anybody with foster in him would be that.
to go back to father.
the doctors told him that his only chance of recovering his strength was an open-air life, so father rented one of uncle abimelech's farms and there he lived for the rest of his days.
he did not get strong again until it was too late for college, and he was a square peg in a round hole all his life, as he used to tell us.
mother died before we could remember, so murray and dad and i were everything to each other.
we were very happy too, although we were bossed by uncle abimelech more or less.
but he meant it well and father did n't mind.
then father died -- oh, that was a dreadful time!
i hurried over it in my thinking-out.
of course when murray and i came to look our position squarely in the face we found that we were dependent on uncle abimelech for everything, even the roof over our heads.
we were literally as poor as church mice and even poorer, for at least they get churches rent-free.
murray's heart was set on going to college and studying medicine.
he asked uncle abimelech to lend him enough money to get a start with and then he could work his own way along and pay back the loan in due time.
uncle abimelech is rich, and murray and i are his nearest relatives.
but he simply would n't listen to murray's plan.
""i put my foot firmly down on such nonsense," he said.
""and you know that when i put my foot down something squashes."
it was not that uncle abimelech was miserly or that he grudged us assistance.
not at all.
he was ready to deal generously by us, but it must be in his own way.
his way was this.
murray and i were to stay on the farm, and when murray was twenty-one uncle abimelech said he would deed the farm to him -- make him a present of it out and out.
""it's a good farm, murray," he said.
""your father never made more than a bare living out of it because he was n't strong enough to work it properly -- that's what he got out of a college course, by the way.
but you are strong enough and ambitious enough to do well."
but murray could n't be a farmer, that was all there was to it.
i told uncle abimelech so, firmly, and i talked to him for days about it, but uncle abimelech never wavered.
he sat and listened to me with a quizzical smile on that handsome, clean-shaven, ruddy old face of his, with its cut-granite features.
and in the end he said, "you ought to be the one to go to college if either of you did, prue.
you would make a capital lawyer, if i believed in the higher education of women, but i do n't.
murray can take or leave the farm as he chooses.
if he prefers the latter alternative, well and good.
but he gets no help from me.
you're a foolish little girl, prue, to back him up in this nonsense of his."
it makes me angry to be called a little girl when i put up my hair a year ago, and uncle abimelech knows it.
i gave up arguing with him.
i knew it was no use anyway.
i thought it all over in the garret.
but no way out of the dilemma could i see.
i had eaten up all the apples i had brought with me and i felt flabby and disconsolate.
the sight of uncle abimelech stalking up the lane, as erect and lordly as usual, served to deepen my gloom.
i picked up the paper my apples had been wrapped in and looked it over gloomily.
then i saw something, and uncle abimelech was delivered into my hand.
the whole plan of campaign unrolled itself before me, and i fairly laughed in glee, looking out of the garret window right down on the little bald spot on the top of uncle abimelech's head, as he stood laying down the law to murray about something.
when uncle abimelech had gone i went down to murray.
""buddy," i said, "i've thought of a plan.
i'm not going to tell you what it is, but you are to consent to it without knowing.
i think it will quench uncle abimelech, but you must have perfect confidence in me.
you must back me up no matter what i do and let me have my own way in it all."
""all right, sis," said murray.
""that is n't solemn enough," i protested.
""i'm serious.
promise solemnly."
""i promise solemnly, "cross my heart,"" said murray, looking like an owl.
""very well.
remember that your role is to lie low and say nothing, like brer rabbit.
alloway's anodyne liniment is pretty good stuff, is n't it, murray?
it cured your sprain after you had tried everything else, did n't it?"
""yes.
but i do n't see the connection."
""it is n't necessary that you should.
well, what with your sprain and my rheumatics i think i can manage it."
""look here, prue.
are you sure that long brooding over our troubles up in the garret has n't turned your brain?"
""my brain is all right.
now leave me, minion.
there is that which i would do."
murray grinned and went.
i wrote a letter, took it down to the office, and mailed it.
for a week there was nothing more to do.
there is just one trait of uncle abimelech's disposition more marked than his fondness for having his own way and that one thing is family pride.
the melvilles are a very old family.
the name dates back to the norman conquest when a certain roger de melville, who was an ancestor of ours, went over to england with william the conqueror.
i do n't think the melvilles ever did anything worth recording in history since.
to be sure, as far back as we can trace, none of them has ever done anything bad either.
they have been honest, respectable folks and i think that is something worth being proud of.
but uncle abimelech pinned his family pride to roger de melville.
he had the melville coat of arms and our family tree, made out by an eminent genealogist, framed and hung up in his library, and he would not have done anything that would not have chimed in with that coat of arms and a conquering ancestor for the world.
at the end of a week i got an answer to my letter.
it was what i wanted.
i wrote again and sent a parcel.
in three weeks" time the storm burst.
one day i saw uncle abimelech striding up the lane.
he had a big newspaper clutched in his hand.
i turned to murray, who was poring over a book of anatomy in the corner.
""murray, uncle abimelech is coming.
there is going to be a battle royal between us.
allow me to remind you of your promise."
""to lie low and say nothing?
that's the cue, is n't it, sis?"
""unless uncle abimelech appeals to you.
in that case you are to back me up."
then uncle abimelech stalked in.
he was purple with rage.
old roger de melville himself never could have looked fiercer.
i did feel a quake or two, but i faced uncle abimelech undauntedly.
no use in having your name on the roll of battle abbey if you ca n't stand your ground.
""prudence, what does this mean?"
thundered uncle abimelech, as he flung the newspaper down on the table.
murray got up and peered over.
then he whistled.
he started to say something but remembered just in time and stopped.
but he did give me a black look.
murray has a sneaking pride of name too, although he wo n't own up to it and laughs at uncle abimelech.
i looked at the paper and began to laugh.
we did look so funny, murray and i, in that advertisement.
it took up the whole page.
at the top were our photos, half life-size, and underneath our names and addresses printed out in full.
below was the letter i had written to the alloway anodyne liniment folks.
it was a florid testimonial to the virtues of their liniment.
i said that it had cured murray's sprain after all other remedies had failed and that, when i had been left a partial wreck from a very bad attack of rheumatic fever, the only thing that restored my joints and muscles to working order was alloway's anodyne liniment, and so on.
it was all true enough, although i dare say old aunt sarah-from-the-hollow's rubbing had as much to do with the cures as the liniment.
but that is neither here nor there.
""what does this mean, prudence?"
said uncle abimelech again.
he was quivering with wrath, but i was as cool as a cucumber, and murray stood like a graven image.
""why, that, uncle abimelech," i said calmly, "well, it just means one of my ways of making money.
that liniment company pays for those testimonials and photos, you know.
they gave me fifty dollars for the privilege of publishing them.
fifty dollars will pay for books and tuition for murray and me at kentville academy next winter, and mrs. tredgold is kind enough to say she will board me for what help i can give her around the house, and wait for murray's until he can earn it by teaching."
i rattled all this off glibly before uncle abimelech could get in a word.
""it's disgraceful!"
he stormed.
""disgraceful!
think of sir roger de melville -- and a patent medicine advertisement!
murray melville, what were you about, sir, to let your sister disgrace herself and her family name by such an outrageous transaction?"
i quaked a bit.
if murray should fail me!
but murray was true-blue.
""i gave prue a free hand, sir.
it's an honest business transaction enough -- and the family name alone wo n't send us to college, you know, sir."
uncle abimelech glared at us.
""this must be put an end to," he said.
""this advertisement must not appear again.
i wo n't have it!"
""but i've signed a contract that it is to run for six months," i said sturdily.
""and i've others in view.
you remember the herb cure you recommended one spring and that it did me so much good!
i'm negotiating with the makers of that and --" "the girl's mad!"
said uncle abimelech.
""stark, staring mad!"
""oh, no, i'm not, uncle abimelech.
i'm merely a pretty good businesswoman.
you wo n't help murray to go to college, so i must.
this is the only way i have, and i'm going to see it through."
after uncle abimelech had gone, still in a towering rage, murray remonstrated.
but i reminded him of his promise and he had to succumb.
next day uncle abimelech returned -- a subdued and chastened uncle abimelech.
""see here, prue," he said sternly.
""this thing must be stopped.
i say it must.
i am not going to have the name of melville dragged all over the country in a patent medicine advertisement.
you've played your game and won it -- take what comfort you can out of the confession: if you will agree to cancel this notorious contract of yours i'll settle it with the company -- and i'll put murray through college -- and you too if you want to go!
something will have to be done with you, that's certain.
is this satisfactory?"
""perfectly," i said promptly.
""if you will add thereto your promise that you will forget and forgive, uncle abimelech.
there are to be no hard feelings."
uncle abimelech shrugged his shoulders.
""in for a penny, in for a pound," he said.
""very well, prue.
we wipe off all scores and begin afresh.
but there must be no more such doings.
you've worked your little scheme through -- trust a foster for that!
but in future you've got to remember that in law you're a melville whatever you are in fact."
i nodded dutifully.
""i'll remember, uncle abimelech," i promised.
after everything had been arranged and uncle abimelech had gone i looked at murray.
""well?"
i said.
murray twinkled.
""you've accomplished the impossible, sis.
but, as uncle abimelech intimated -- do n't you try it again."
a sandshore wooing fir cottage, plover sands.
july sixth.
we arrived here late last night, and all day aunt martha has kept her room to rest.
so i had to keep mine also, although i felt as fresh as a morning lark, and just in the mood for enjoyment.
my name is marguerite forrester -- an absurdly long name for so small a girl.
aunt martha always calls me marguer_ite, with an accent of strong disapproval.
she does not like my name, but she gives me the full benefit of it.
connie shelmardine used to call me rita.
connie was my roommate last year at the seminary.
we correspond occasionally, but aunt martha frowns on it.
i have always lived with aunt martha -- my parents died when i was a baby.
aunt martha says i am to be her heiress if i please her -- which means -- but, oh, you do not know what "pleasing" aunt martha means.
aunt is a determined and inveterate man-hater.
she has no particular love for women, indeed, and trusts nobody but mrs. saxby, her maid.
i rather like mrs. saxby.
she is not quite so far gone in petrifaction as aunt, although she gets a little stonier every year.
i expect the process will soon begin on me, but it has n't yet.
my flesh and blood are still unreasonably warm and pulsing and rebellious.
aunt martha would be in danger of taking a fit if she ever saw me talking to a man.
she watches me jealously, firmly determined to guard me from any possible attack of a roaring and ravening lion in the disguise of nineteenth-century masculine attire.
so i have to walk demurely and assume a virtue, if i have it not, while i pine after the untested flesh-pots of egypt in secret.
we have come down to spend a few weeks at fir cottage.
our good landlady is a capacious, kindly-souled creature, and i think she has rather a liking for me.
i have been chattering to her all day, for there are times when i absolutely must talk to someone or go mad.
july tenth.
this sort of life is decidedly dull.
the program of every day is the same.
i go to the sandshore with aunt martha and mrs. saxby in the morning, read to aunt in the afternoons, and mope around by my disconsolate self in the evenings.
mrs. blake has lent me, for shore use, a very fine spyglass which she owns.
she says her "man" brought it home from "furrin" parts" before he died.
while aunt and mrs. saxby meander up and down the shore, leaving me free to a certain extent, i amuse myself by examining distant seas and coasts through it, thus getting a few peeps into a forbidden world.
we see few people, although there is a large summer hotel about a mile up the beach.
our shore haunts do not seem to be popular with its guests.
they prefer the rocks.
this suits aunt martha admirably.
i may also add that it does n't suit her niece -- but that is a matter of small importance.
the first morning i noticed a white object on the rocks, about half a mile away, and turned my glass on it.
there -- apparently within a stone's throw of me -- was a young man.
he was lounging on a rock, looking dreamily out to sea.
there was something about his face that reminded me of someone i know, but i can not remember whom.
every morning he has reappeared on the same spot.
he seems to be a solitary individual, given to prowling by himself.
i wonder what aunt would say if she knew what i am so earnestly watching through my glass at times.
july eleventh.
i shall have to cease looking at the unknown, i am afraid.
this morning i turned my glass, as usual, on his pet haunt.
i nearly fell over in my astonishment, for he was also looking through a spyglass straight at me, too, it seemed.
how foolish i felt!
and yet my curiosity was so strong that a few minutes afterward i peeped back again, just to see what he was doing.
then he coolly laid down his glass, rose, lifted his cap and bowed politely to me -- or, at least, in my direction.
i dropped my glass and smiled in a mixture of dismay and amusement.
then i remembered that he was probably watching me again, and might imagine my smile was meant for him.
i banished it immediately, shut my glass up and did not touch it again.
soon after we came home.
july twelfth.
something has happened at last.
today i went to the shore as usual, fully resolved not even to glance in the forbidden direction.
but in the end i had to take a peep, and saw him on the rocks with his glass levelled at me.
when he saw that i was looking he laid down the glass, held up his hands, and began to spell out something in the deaf-mute alphabet.
now, i know that same alphabet.
connie taught it to me last year, so that we might hold communication across the schoolroom.
i gave one frantic glance at aunt martha's rigid back, and then watched him while he deftly spelled: "i am francis shelmardine.
are you not miss forrester, my sister's friend?"
francis shelmardine!
now i knew whom he resembled.
and have i not heard endless dissertations from connie on this wonderful brother of hers, francis the clever, the handsome, the charming, until he has become the only hero of dreams i have ever had?
it was too wonderful.
i could only stare dazedly back through my glass.
""may we know each other?"
he went on.
""may i come over and introduce myself?
right hand, yes; left, no."
i gasped!
suppose he were to come?
what would happen?
i waved my left hand sorrowfully.
he looked quite crestfallen and disappointed as he spelled out: "why not?
would your friends disapprove?"
i signalled: "yes."
""are you displeased at my boldness?"
was his next question.
where had all aunt martha's precepts flown to then?
i blush to record that i lifted my left hand shyly and had just time to catch his pleased expression when aunt martha came up and said it was time to go home.
so i picked myself meekly up, shook the sand from my dress, and followed my good aunt dutifully home.
july thirteenth.
when we went to the shore this morning i had to wait in spasms of remorse and anxiety until aunt got tired of reading and set off along the shore with mrs. saxby.
then i reached for my glass.
mr. shelmardine and i had quite a conversation.
under the circumstances there could be no useless circumlocution in our exchange of ideas.
it was religiously "boiled down," and ran something like this: "you are not displeased with me?"
""no -- but i should be."
""why?"
""it is wrong to deceive aunt."
""i am quite respectable."
""that is not the question."
""can not her prejudices be overcome?"
""absolutely no."
""mrs. allardyce, who is staying at the hotel, knows her well.
shall i bring her over to vouch for my character?"
""it would not do a bit of good."
""then it is hopeless."
""yes."
""would you object to knowing me on your own account?"
""no."
""do you ever come to the shore alone?"
""no.
aunt would not permit me."
""must she know?"
""yes.
i would not come without her permission."
""you will not refuse to chat with me thus now and then?"
""i do n't know.
perhaps not."
i had to go home then.
as we went mrs. saxby complimented me on my good colour.
aunt martha looked her disapproval.
if i were really ill aunt would spend her last cent in my behalf, but she would be just as well pleased to see me properly pale and subdued at all times, and not looking as if i were too well contented in this vale of tears.
july seventeenth.
i have "talked" a good deal with mr. shelmardine these past four days.
he is to be at the beach for some weeks longer.
this morning he signalled across from the rocks: "i mean to see you at last.
tomorrow i will walk over and pass you."
""you must not.
aunt will suspect."
""no danger.
do n't be alarmed.
i will do nothing rash."
i suppose he will.
he seems to be very determined.
of course, i can not prevent him from promenading on our beach all day if he chooses.
but then if he did, aunt would speedily leave him in sole possession of it.
i wonder what i had better wear tomorrow.
july nineteenth.
yesterday morning aunt martha was serene and unsuspicious.
it is dreadful of me to be deceiving her and i do feel guilty.
i sat down on the sand and pretended to read the "memoirs of a missionary" -- aunt likes cheerful books like that -- in an agony of anticipation.
presently aunt said, majestically: "marguer_ite, there is a man coming this way.
we will move further down."
and we moved.
poor aunt!
mr. shelmardine came bravely on.
i felt my heart beating to my very finger tips.
he halted by the fragment of an old stranded boat.
aunt had turned her back on him.
i ventured on a look.
he lifted his hat with a twinkle in his eye.
just then aunt said, icily: "we will go home, marguer_ite.
that creature evidently intends to persist in his intrusion."
home we came accordingly.
this morning he signalled across: "letter from connie.
message for you.
i mean to deliver it personally.
do you ever go to church?"
now, i do go regularly to church at home.
but aunt martha and mrs. saxby are both such rigid church people that they would not darken the doors of the methodist church at plover sands for any consideration.
needless to say, i am not allowed to go either.
but it was impossible to make this long explanation, so i merely replied: "not here."
""will you not go tomorrow morning?"
""aunt will not let me."
""coax her."
""coaxing never has any effect on her."
""would she relent if mrs. allardyce were to call for you?"
now, i have been cautiously sounding aunt about mrs. allardyce, and i have discovered that she disapproves of her.
so i said: "it would be useless.
i will ask aunt if i may go, but i feel almost sure that she will not consent."
this evening, when aunt was in an unusually genial mood, i plucked up heart of grace and asked her.
""marguer_ite," she said impressively, "you know that i do not attend church here."
""but, aunt," i persisted, quakingly, "could n't i go alone?
it is not very far -- and i will be very careful."
aunt merely gave me a look that said about forty distinct and separate things, and i was turning away in despair when mrs. saxby -- bless her heart -- said: "i really think it would be no harm to let the child go."
as aunt attaches great importance to mrs. saxby's opinion, she looked at me relentingly and said: "well, i will think it over and let you know in the morning, marguer_ite."
now, everything depends on the sort of humour aunt is in in the morning.
july twentieth.
this morning was perfect, and after breakfast aunt said, condescendingly: "i think you may attend church if you wish, marguer_ite.
remember that i expect you to conduct yourself with becoming prudence and modesty."
i flew upstairs and pulled my prettiest dress out of my trunk.
it is a delicate, shimmering grey stuff with pearly tints about it.
every time i get anything new, aunt martha and i have a battle royal over it.
i verily believe that aunt would like me to dress in the fashions in vogue in her youth.
there is always a certain flavour of old-fashionedness about my gowns and hats.
connie used to say that it was delicious and gave me a piquant uniqueness -- a certain unlikeness to other people that possessed a positive charm.
that is only connie's view of it, however.
but i had had my own way about this dress and it is really very becoming.
i wore a little silvery-grey chip hat, trimmed with pale pink flowers, and i pinned at my belt the sweetest cluster of old-fashioned blush rosebuds from the garden.
then i borrowed a hymn book from mrs. blake and ran down to undergo aunt martha's scrutiny.
""dear me, child," she said discontentedly, "you have gotten yourself up very frivolously, it seems to me."
""why, aunty," i protested, "i'm all in grey -- every bit."
aunt martha sniffed.
you do n't know how much aunt can express in a sniff.
but i tripped to church like a bird.
the first person i saw there was mr. shelmardine.
he was sitting right across from me and a smile glimmered in his eyes.
i did not look at him again.
through the service i was subdued enough to have satisfied even aunt martha.
when church came out, he waited for me at the entrance to his pew.
i pretended not to see him until he said "good morning," in a voice vibrating and deep, which sounded as though it might become infinitely tender if its owner chose.
when we went down the steps he took my hymnal, and we walked up the long, bowery country road.
""thank you so much for coming today," he said -- as if i went to oblige him.
""i had a hard time to get aunt martha's consent," i declared frankly.
""i would n't have succeeded if mrs. saxby had n't taken my part."
""heaven bless mrs. saxby," he remarked fervently.
""but is there any known way of overcoming your aunt's scruples?
if so, i am ready to risk it."
""there is none.
aunt martha is very good and kind to me, but she will never stop trying to bring me up.
the process will be going on when i am fifty.
and she hates men!
i do n't know what she would do if she saw me now."
mr. shelmardine frowned and switched the unoffending daisies viciously with his cane.
""then there is no hope of my seeing you openly and above-board?"
""not at present," i said faintly.
after a brief silence we began to talk of other things.
he told me how he happened to see me first.
""i was curious to know who the people were who were always in the same place at the same time, so one day i took my telescope.
i could see you plainly.
you were reading and had your hat off.
when i went back to the hotel i asked mrs. allardyce if she knew who the boarders at fir cottage were and she told me.
i had heard connie speak of you, and i determined to make your acquaintance."
when we reached the lane i held out my hand for the hymnal.
""you must n't come any further, mr. shelmardine," i said hurriedly.
""aunt -- aunt might see you."
he took my hand and held it, looking at me seriously.
""suppose i were to walk up to the cottage tomorrow and ask for you?"
i gasped.
he looked so capable of doing anything he took it into his head to do.
""oh, you would n't," i said piteously.
""aunt martha would -- you are not in earnest."
""i suppose not," he said regretfully.
""of course i would not do anything that would cause you unpleasantness.
but this must not -- shall not be our last meeting."
""aunt will not let me come to church again," i said.
""does she ever take a nap in the afternoon?"
he queried.
i wriggled my parasol about in the dust uneasily.
""sometimes."
""i shall be at the old boat tomorrow afternoon at two-thirty," he said.
i pulled my hand away.
""i could n't -- you know i could n't," i cried -- and then i blushed to my ears.
""are you sure you could n't?"
bending a little nearer.
""quite sure," i murmured.
he surrendered my hymnal at last.
""will you give me a rose?"
i unpinned the whole cluster and handed it to him.
he lifted it until it touched his lips.
as for me, i scuttled up the lane in the most undignified fashion.
at the turn i looked back.
he was still standing there with his hat off.
july twenty-fourth.
on monday afternoon i slipped away to the shore while aunt martha and mrs. saxby were taking their regular nap and i was supposed to be reading sermons in my room.
mr. shelmardine was leaning against the old boat, but he came swiftly across the sand to meet me.
""this is very kind of you," he said.
""i ought not to have come," i said repentantly.
""but it is so lonely there -- and one ca n't be interested in sermons and memoirs all the time."
mr. shelmardine laughed.
""mr. and mrs. allardyce are on the other side of the boat.
will you come and meet them?"
how nice of him to bring them!
i knew i should like mrs. allardyce, just because aunt martha did n't.
we had a delightful stroll.
i never thought of the time until mr. shelmardine said it was four o'clock.
""oh, is it so late as that?"
i cried.
""i must go at once."
""i'm sorry we have kept you so long," remarked mr. shelmardine in a tone of concern.
""if she should be awake, what will the consequences be?"
""too terrible to think of," i answered seriously.
""i'm sorry, mr. shelmardine, but you must n't come any further.""
we will be here tomorrow afternoon," he said.
""mr. shelmardine!"
i protested.
""i wish you would n't put such ideas into my head.
they wo n't come out -- no, not if i read a whole volume of sermons right through."
we looked at each other for a second.
then he began to smile, and we both went off into a peal of laughter.
""at least let me know if miss fiske rampages," he called after me as i fled.
but aunt martha was not awake -- and i have been to the shore three afternoons since then.
i was there today, and i'm going tomorrow for a boat sail with mr. shelmardine and the allardyces.
but i am afraid the former will do something rash soon.
this afternoon he said: "i do n't think i can stand this much longer."
""stand what?"
i asked.
""you know very well," he answered recklessly.
""meeting you in this clandestine manner, and thereby causing that poor little conscience of yours such misery.
if your aunt were not so -- unreasonable, i should never have stooped to it."
""it is all my fault," i said contritely.
""well, i hardly meant that," he said grimly.
""but had n't i better go frankly to your aunt and lay the whole case before her?"
""you would never see me again if you did that," i said hastily -- and then wished i had n't.
""that is the worst threat you could make," he said.
july twenty-fifth.
it is all over, and i am the most miserable girl in the world.
of course this means that aunt martha has discovered everything and the deserved punishment of my sins has overtaken me.
i slipped away again this afternoon and went for that boat sail.
we had a lovely time but were rather late getting in, and i hurried home with many misgivings.
aunt martha met me at the door.
my dress was draggled, my hat had slipped back, and the kinks and curls of my obstreperous hair were something awful.
i know i looked very disreputable and also, no doubt, very guilty and conscience-stricken.
aunt gave me an unutterable look and then followed me up to my room in grim silence.
""marguer_ite, what does this mean?"
i have lots of faults, but untruthfulness is n't one of them.
i confessed everything -- at least, almost everything.
i did n't tell about the telescopes and deaf-mute alphabet, and aunt was too horror-stricken to think of asking how i first made mr. shelmardine's acquaintance.
she listened in stony silence.
i had expected a terrible scolding, but i suppose my crimes simply seemed to her too enormous for words.
when i had sobbed out my last word she rose, swept me one glance of withering contempt, and left the room.
presently mrs. saxby came up, looking concerned.
""my dear child, what have you been doing?
your aunt says that we are to go home on the afternoon train tomorrow.
she is terribly upset."
i just curled up on the bed and cried, while mrs. saxby packed my trunk.
i will have no chance to explain matters to mr. shelmardine.
and i will never see him again, for aunt is quite capable of whisking me off to africa.
he will just think me a feather-brained flirt.
oh, i am so unhappy!
july twenty-sixth.
i am the happiest girl in the world!
that is quite a different strain from yesterday.
we leave fir cottage in an hour, but that does n't matter now.
i did not sleep a wink last night and crawled miserably down to breakfast.
aunt took not the slightest notice of me, but to my surprise she told mrs. saxby that she intended taking a farewell walk to the shore.
i knew i would be taken, too, to be kept out of mischief, and my heart gave a great bound of hope.
perhaps i would have a chance to send word to francis, since aunt did not know of the part my spyglass had played in my bad behaviour.
i meekly followed my grim guardians to the shore and sat dejectedly on my rug while they paced the sand.
francis was on the rocks.
as soon as aunt martha and mrs. saxby were at a safe distance, i began my message: "all discovered.
aunt is very angry.
we go home today."
then i snatched my glass.
his face expressed the direst consternation and dismay.
he signalled: "i must see you before you go."
""impossible.
aunt will never forgive me.
good-bye."
i saw a look of desperate determination cross his face.
if forty aunt marthas had swooped down upon me, i could not have torn my eyes from that glass.
""i love you.
you know it.
do you care for me?
i must have my answer now."
what a situation!
no time or chance for any maidenly hesitation or softening aureole of words.
aunt and mrs. saxby had almost reached the point where they invariably turned.
i had barely time to spell out a plain, blunt "yes" and read his answer.
""i shall go home at once, get mother and connie, follow you, and demand possession of my property.
i shall win the day.
have no fear.
till then, good-bye, my darling."
""marguerite," said mrs. saxby at my elbow, "it is time to go."
i got up obediently.
aunt martha was as grim and uncompromising as ever, and mrs. saxby looked like a chief mourner, but do you suppose i cared?
i dropped behind them just once before we left the shore.
i knew he was watching me and i waved my hand.
i suppose i am really engaged to francis shelmardine.
but was there ever such a funny wooing?
and what will aunt martha say?
after many days the square, bare front room of the baxter station hotel -- so called because there was no other house in the place to dispute the title -- was filled with men.
some of them were putting up at the hotel while they worked at the new branch line, and some of them had dropped in to exchange news and banter while waiting for the mail train.
gabe foley, the proprietor, was playing at checkers with one of the railroad men, but was not too deeply absorbed in the game to take in all that was said around him.
the air was dim with tobacco smoke, and the brilliant, scarlet geraniums which mrs. foley kept in the bay window looked oddly out of place.
gabe knew all those present except one man -- a stranger who had landed at baxter station from the afternoon freight.
foley's hotel did not boast of a register, and the stranger did not volunteer any information regarding his name or business.
he had put in the afternoon and early evening strolling about the village and talking to the men on the branch line.
now he had come in and ensconced himself in the corner behind the stove, where he preserved a complete silence.
he had a rather rough face and was flashily dressed.
altogether, gabe hardly liked his looks, put as long as a man paid his bill and did not stir up a row gabe foley did not interfere with him.
three or four farmers from "out greenvale way" were drawn up by the stove, discussing the cheese factory sales and various greenvale happenings.
the stranger appeared to be listening to them intently, although he took no part in their conversation.
presently he brought his tilted chair down with a sharp thud.
gabe foley had paused in his manipulation of a king to hurl a question at the greenvale men.
""is it true that old man strong is to be turned out next week?"
""true enough," answered william jeffers.
""joe moore is going to foreclose.
stephen strong has got three years behind with the interest and moore is out of patience.
it seems hard on old stephen, but moore ai n't the man to hesitate for that.
he'll have his own out of it."
""what will the strongs do?"
asked gabe.
""that's the question everyone in greenvale is asking.
lizzie strong has always been a delicate little girl, but maybe she'll manage to scare up a living.
old stephen is to be the most pitied.
i do n't see anything for him but the poorhouse."
""how did stephen strong come to get into such a tight place?"
the stranger asked suddenly.
""when i was in these parts a good many years ago he was considered a well-to-do man."
""well, so he was," replied william jeffers.
""but he began to get in debt when his wife took sick.
he spent no end of money on doctors and medicines for her.
and then he seemed to have a streak of bad luck besides -- crops failed and cows died and all that sort of thing.
he's been going behind ever since.
he kind of lost heart when his wife died.
and now moore is going to foreclose.
it's my opinion poor old stephen wo n't live any time if he's turned out of his home."
""do you know what the mortgage comes to?"
""near three thousand, counting overdue interest."
""well, i'm sorry for old stephen," said gabe, returning to his game.
""if anybody deserves a peaceful old age he does.
he's helped more people than you could count, and he was the best christian in greenvale, or out of it."
""he was too good," said a greenvale man crustily.
""he just let himself be imposed upon all his life.
there's dozens of people owes him and he's never asked for a cent from them.
and he's always had some shiftless critter or other hanging round and devouring his substance."
""d'ye mind that ben butler who used to be in greenvale twenty years ago?"
asked a third man.
""if ever there was an imp of satan't was him -- old ezra butler's son from the valley.
old stephen kept him for three or four years and was as good to him as if he'd been his own son."
""most people out our way do mind ben butler," returned william jeffers grimly, "even if he ai n't been heard tell of for twenty years.
he was n't the kind you could forget in a hurry.
where'd he go?
out to the kootenay, was n't it?"
""somewhere there.
he was a reg "lar young villain -- up to every kind of mischief.
old stephen caught him stealing his oats one time and "stead of giving him a taste of jail for it, as he ought to have done, he just took him right into his family and kept him there for three years.
i used to tell him he'd be sorry for it, but he always persisted that ben was n't bad at heart and would come out all right some day.
no matter what the young varmint did old stephen would make excuses for him -- "his ma was dead," or he "had n't had no bringing-up."
i was thankful when he did finally clear out without doing some penitentiary work."
""if poor old stephen had n't been so open-handed to every unfortunate critter he came across," said gabe, "he'd have had more for himself today."
the whistle of the mail train cut short the discussion of stephen strong's case.
in a minute the room was vacant, except for the stranger.
when left to himself he also rose and walked out.
turning away from the station, he struck briskly into the greenvale road.
about three miles from the station he halted before a house built close to the road.
it was old-fashioned, but large and comfortable-looking, with big barns in the rear and an orchard on the left slope.
the house itself was in the shadow of the firs, but the yard lay out in the moonlight and the strange visitor did not elect to cross it.
instead, he turned aside into the shadow of the trees around the garden and, leaning against the old rail fence, gave himself up to contemplation of some kind.
there was a light in the kitchen.
the window-blind was not down and he had a fairly good view of the room.
the only visible occupant was a grey-haired old man sitting by the table, reading from a large open volume before him.
the stranger whistled softly.
""that's old stephen -- reading the bible same as ever, by all that's holy!
he has n't changed much except that he's got mighty grey.
he must be close on to seventy.
it's a shame to turn an old man like him out of house and home.
but joe moore always was a genuine skinflint."
he drew himself softly up and sat on the fence.
he saw old stephen strong close his book, place his spectacles on it, and kneel down by his chair.
the old man remained on his knees for some time and then, taking up his candle, left the kitchen.
the man on the fence still sat there.
truth to tell, he was chuckling to himself as he recalled all the mischief he had done in the old days -- the doubtful jokes, tricks, and escapades he had gone through with.
he could not help remembering at the same time how patient old stephen strong had always been with him.
he recalled the time he had been caught stealing the oats.
how frightened and sullen he had been!
and how gently the old man had talked to him and pointed out the sin of which he had been guilty!
he had never stolen again, but in other respects he had not mended his ways much.
behind old stephen's back he laughed at him and his "preaching."
but stephen strong had never lost faith in him.
he had always asserted mildly that "ben would come out all right by and by."
ben butler remembered this too, as he sat on the fence.
he had "always liked old stephen," he told himself.
he was sorry he had fallen on such evil times.
""preaching and praying do n't seem to have brought him out clear after all," he said with a chuckle that quickly died away.
somehow, even in his worst days, ben butler had never felt easy when he mocked old stephen.
""three thousand dollars!
i could do it but i reckon i'd be a blamed fool.
i ai n't a-going to do it.
three thousand ai n't picked up every day, even in the kootenay -- "specially by chaps like me."
he patted his pocket knowingly.
fifteen years previously he had gone to the kootenay district with visions of making a fortune that were quickly dispelled by reality.
he had squandered his wages as soon as paid, and it was only of late years that he had "pulled up a bit," as he expressed it, and saved his three thousand dollars.
he had brought the money home with him, having some vague notion of buying a farm and "settling down to do the respectable."
but he had already given up the idea.
this country was too blamed quiet for him, he said.
he would go back to the kootenay, and he knew what he would do with his money.
jake perkins and wade brown, two "pals" of his, were running a flourishing grocery and saloon combined.
they would be glad of another partner with some cash.
it would suit him to a t. "i'll clear out tomorrow," he mused as he walked back.
""as long as i stay here old stephen will haunt me, sure as fate.
wonder what he was praying for tonight.
he always used to say the lord would provide, but he do n't appear to have done it.
well, i ai n't his deputy."
the next afternoon ben butler went over to greenvale and called at stephen strong's.
he found only the old man at home.
old stephen did not recognize him at first, but made him heartily welcome when he did.
""ben, i do declare!
ben butler!
how are you?
how are you?
sit down, ben -- here, take this chair.
where on earth did you come from?"
""baxter just now -- kootenay on the large scale," answered ben.
""thought i'd come over and see you again.
did n't expect you'd remember me at all."
""remember you!
why, of course i do.
i have n't ever forgot you, ben.
many's the time i've wondered where you was and how you was getting on.
and you tell me you've been in the kootenay!
well, well, you have seen a good bit more of the world than i ever have.
you've changed a lot, ben.
you ai n't a boy no longer.
d'ye mind all the pranks you used to play?"
ben laughed sheepishly.
""i reckon i do.
but it ai n't myself i come here to talk about -- not much to say if i did.
it's just been up and down with me.
how are you yourself, sir?
they were telling me over at baxter that you were kind of in trouble."
the old man's face clouded over; all the sparkle went out of his kind blue eyes.
""yes, ben, yes," he said, with a heavy sigh.
""i've kind of gone downhill, that's a fact.
the old farm has to go, ben -- i'm sorry for that -- i'd have liked to have ended my days here, but it's not to be.
i do n't want to complain.
the lord does all things well.
i have n't a doubt but that it all fits into his wise purposes -- not a doubt, ben, although it may be kind of hard to see it."
ben was always skittish of "pious talk."
he veered around adroitly.
""i dunno as the lord has had much to do with this, sir.
seems to me as if't was the other one as was running it, with joe moore for deputy.
the main thing, as i look at it, is to get a cinch on him.
how much does the mortgage amount to, sir?"
""about three thousand dollars, interest and all."
old stephen's voice trembled.
the future looked very dark to him in his old age.
ben put his hand inside his coat and brought out a brand-new, plump pocketbook.
he opened it, laid it on his knee, and counted out a number of crisp notes.
""here, sir," he said, pushing them along the table.
""i reckon that'll keep you out of joe moore's clutches.
there's three thousand there if i ai n't made a mistake.
that'll set you clear, wo n't it?"
""ben!"
old stephen's voice trembled with amazement.
""ben, i ca n't take it.
it would n't be fair -- or right.
i could never pay you back."
ben slipped the rubber band around his wallet and replaced it airily.
""i do n't want it paid back, sir.
it's a little gift, so to speak, just to let you know i ai n't ungrateful for all you did for me.
if it had n't been for you i might have been in the penitentiary by now.
as for the money, it may seem a pile to you, but we do n't think anything more of a thousand or so in the kootenay than you greenvale folks do of a fiver -- not a bit more.
we do things on a big scale out there."
""but, ben, are you sure you can afford it -- that you wo n't miss it?"
""pop sure.
do n't you worry, i'm all right."
""bless you -- bless you!"
the tears were running down old stephen's face as he gathered up the money with a shaking hand.
""i always knew you would do well, ben -- always said it.
i knew you'd a good heart.
i just ca n't realize this yet -- it seems too good to be true.
the old place saved -- i can die in peace.
of course, i'll pay you back some of it anyhow if i'm spared a while longer.
bless you, ben."
ben would not stay long after that.
he said he had to leave on the 4:30 train.
he was relieved when he got away from the old man's thanks and questions.
ben did not find it easy to answer some of the latter.
when he was out of sight of the house he sat on a fence and counted up his remaining funds.
""just enough to take me back to the kootenay -- and then begin over again, i s "pose.
but't was worth the money to see the old fellow's face.
he'd thank the lord and me, he said.
how jake and wade'd roar to hear them two names in partnership!
but i'm going to pull up a bit after this, see if i do n't, just to justify the old man's faith in me.
"twould be too bad to disappoint him if he's believed for so long that i was going to turn out all right yet."
when the 4:30 train went out ben butler stood on the rear platform.
gabe foley watched him abstractedly as he receded.
""blamed if i know who that fellow was," he remarked to a crony.
""he never told his name, but seems to me i've seen him before.
he has a kind of hang-dog look, i think.
but he paid up square and it is none of my business."
an unconventional confidence the girl in black-and-yellow ran frantically down the grey road under the pines.
there was nobody to see her, but she would have run if all halifax had been looking on.
for had she not on the loveliest new hat -- a "creation" in yellow chiffon with big black choux -- and a dress to match?
and was there not a shower coming straight from the hills across the harbour?
down at the end of the long resinous avenue the girl saw the shore road, with the pavilion shutting out the view of the harbour's mouth.
below the pavilion, clean-shaven george's island guarded the town like a sturdy bulldog, and beyond it were the wooded hills, already lost in a mist of rain.
""oh, i shall be too late," moaned the girl.
but she held her hat steady with one hand and ran on.
if she could only reach the pavilion in time!
it was a neck-and-neck race between the rain and the girl, but the girl won.
just as she flew out upon the shore road, a tall young man came pelting down the latter, and they both dashed up the steps of the pavilion together as the rain swooped down upon them and blotted george's island and the smoky town and the purple banks of the eastern passage from view.
the pavilion was small at the best of times, and just now the rain was beating into it on two sides, leaving only one dry corner.
into this the girl moved.
she was flushed and triumphant.
the young man thought that in all his life he had never seen anyone so pretty.
""i'm so glad i did n't get my hat wet," said the girl breathlessly, as she straightened it with a careful hand and wondered if she looked very blown and blowsy.
""it would have been a pity," admitted the young man.
""it is a very pretty hat."
""pretty!"
the girl looked the scorn her voice expressed.
""anyone can have a pretty hat.
our cook has one.
this is a creation."
""of course," said the young man humbly.
""i ought to have known.
but i am very stupid."
""well, i suppose a mere man could n't be expected to understand exactly," said the girl graciously.
she smiled at him in a friendly fashion, and he smiled back.
the girl thought that she had never seen such lovely brown eyes before.
he could not be a haligonian.
she was sure she knew all the nice young men with brown eyes in halifax.
""please sit down," she said plaintively.
""i'm tired."
the young man smiled again at the idea of his sitting down because the girl was tired.
but he sat down, and so did she, on the only dry seat to be found.
""goodness knows how long this rain will last," said the girl, making herself comfortable and picturesque, "but i shall stay here until it clears up, if it rains for a week.
i will not have my hat spoiled.
i suppose i should n't have put it on.
beatrix said it was going to rain.
beatrix is such a horribly good prophet.
i detest people who are good prophets, do n't you?"
""i think that they are responsible for all the evils that they predict," said the young man solemnly.
""that is just what i told beatrix.
and i was determined to put on this hat and come out to the park today.
i simply had to be alone, and i knew i'd be alone out here.
everybody else would be at the football game.
by the way, why are n't you there?"
""i was n't even aware that there was a football game on hand," said the young man, as if he knew he ought to be ashamed of his ignorance, and was.
""dear me," said the girl pityingly.
""where can you have been not to have heard of it?
it's between the dalhousie team and the wanderers.
almost everybody here is on the wanderers" side, because they are haligonians, but i am not.
i like the college boys best.
beatrix says that it is just because of my innate contrariness.
last year i simply screamed myself hoarse with enthusiasm.
the dalhousie team won the trophy."
""if you are so interested in the game, it is a wonder you did n't go to see it yourself," said the young man boldly.
""well, i just could n't," said the girl with a sigh.
""if anybody had ever told me that there would be a football game in halifax, and that i would elect to prowl about by myself in the park instead of going to it, i'd have laughed them to scorn.
even beatrix would never have dared to prophesy that.
but you see it has happened.
i was too crumpled up in my mind to care about football today.
i had to come here and have it out with myself.
that is why i put on my hat.
i thought, perhaps, i might get through with my mental gymnastics in time to go to the game afterwards.
but i did n't.
it is just maddening, too.
i got this hat and dress on purpose to wear to it.
they're black and yellow, you see -- the dalhousie colours.
it was my own idea.
i was sure it would make a sensation.
but i could n't go to the game and take any interest in it, feeling as i do, could i, now?"
the young man said, of course, she could n't.
it was utterly out of the question.
the girl smiled.
without a smile, she was charming.
with a smile, she was adorable.
""i like to have my opinions bolstered up.
do you know, i want to tell you something?
may i?"
""you may.
i'll never tell anyone as long as i live," said the young man solemnly.
""i do n't know you and you do n't know me.
that is why i want to tell you about it.
i must tell somebody, and if i told anybody i knew, they'd tell it all over halifax.
it is dreadful to be talking to you like this.
beatrix would have three fits, one after the other, if she saw me.
but beatrix is a slave to conventionality.
i glory in discarding it at times.
you do n't mind, do you?"
""not at all," said the young man sincerely.
the girl sighed.
""i have reached that point where i must have a confidant, or go crazy.
once i could tell things to beatrix.
that was before she got engaged.
now she tells everything to him.
there is no earthly way of preventing her.
i've tried them all.
so, nowadays, when i get into trouble, i tell it out loud to myself in the glass.
it's a relief, you know.
but that is no good now.
i want to tell it to somebody who can say things back.
will you promise to say things back?"
the young man assured her that he would when the proper time came.
""very well.
but please do n't look at me while i'm telling you.
i'll be sure to blush in places.
when beatrix wants to be particularly aggravating she says i have lost the art of blushing.
but that is only her way of putting it, you know.
sometimes i blush dreadfully."
the young man dragged his eyes from the face under the black-and-yellow hat, and fastened them on a crooked pine tree that hung out over the bank.
""well," began the girl, "the root of the whole trouble is simply this.
there is a young man in england.
i always think of him as the creature.
he is the son of a man who was father's especial crony in boyhood, before father emigrated to canada.
worse than that, he comes of a family which has contracted a vile habit of marrying into our family.
it has come down through the ages so long that it has become chronic.
father left most of his musty traditions in england, but he brought this pet one with him.
he and this friend agreed that the latter's son should marry one of father's daughters.
it ought to have been beatrix -- she is the oldest.
but beatrix had a pug nose.
so father settled on me.
from my earliest recollection i have been given to understand that just as soon as i grew up there would be a ready-made husband imported from england for me.
i was doomed to it from my cradle.
now," said the girl, with a tragic gesture, "i ask you, could anything be more hopelessly, appallingly stupid and devoid of romance than that?"
the young man shook his head, but did not look at her.
""it's pretty bad," he admitted.
""you see," said the girl pathetically, "the shadow of it has been over my whole life.
of course, when i was a very little girl i did n't mind it so much.
it was such a long way off and lots of things might happen.
the creature might run away with some other girl -- or i might have the smallpox -- or beatrix's nose might be straight when she grew up.
and if beatrix's nose were straight she'd be a great deal prettier than i am.
but nothing did happen -- and her nose is puggier than ever.
then when i grew up things were horrid.
i never could have a single little bit of fun.
and beatrix had such a good time!
she had scores of lovers in spite of her nose.
to be sure, she's engaged now -- and he's a horrid, faddy little creature.
but he is her own choice.
she was n't told that there was a man in england whom she must marry by and by, when he got sufficiently reconciled to the idea to come and ask her.
oh, it makes me furious!"
""is -- is there -- anyone else?"
asked the young man hesitatingly.
""oh, dear, no.
how could there be?
why, you know, i could n't have the tiniest flirtation with another man when i was as good as engaged to the creature.
that is one of my grievances.
just think how much fun i've missed!
i used to rage to beatrix about it, but she would tell me that i ought to be thankful to have the chance of making such a good match -- the creature is rich, you know, and clever.
as if i cared how clever or rich he is!
beatrix made me so cross that i gave up saying anything and sulked by myself.
so they think i'm quite reconciled to it, but i'm not."
""he might be very nice after all," suggested the young man."
nice!
that is n't the point.
oh, do n't you see?
but no, you're a man -- you ca n't understand.
you must just take my word for it.
the whole thing makes me furious.
but i have n't told you the worst.
the creature is on his way out to canada now.
he may arrive here at any minute.
and they are all so aggravatingly delighted over it."
""what do you suppose he feels like?"
asked the young man reflectively.
""well," said the girl frankly, "i've been too much taken up with my own feelings to worry about his.
but i daresay they are pretty much like mine.
he must loathe and detest the very thought of me."
""oh, i do n't think he does," said the young man gravely.
""do n't you?
well, what do you suppose he does think of it all?
you ought to understand the man's part of it better than i can."
""there's as much difference in men as in women," said the young man in an impersonal tone.
""i may be right or wrong, you see, but i imagine he would feel something like this: from boyhood he has understood that away out in canada there is a little girl growing up who is some day to be his wife.
she becomes his boyish ideal of all that is good and true.
he pictures her as beautiful and winsome and sweet.
she is his heart's lady, and the thought of her abides with him as a safeguard and an inspiration.
for her sake he resolves to make the most of himself, and live a clean, loyal life.
when she comes to him she must find his heart fit to receive her.
there is never a time in all his life when the dream of her does not gleam before him as of a star to which he may aspire with all reverence and love."
the young man stopped abruptly, and looked at the girl.
she bent forward with shining eyes, and touched his hand.
""you are splendid," she said softly.
""if he thought so -- but no -- i am sure he does n't.
he's just coming out here like a martyr going to the stake.
he knows he will be expected to propose to me when he gets here.
and he knows that i know it too.
and he knows and i know that i will be expected to say my very prettiest "yes.""
""but are you going to say it?"
asked the young man anxiously.
the girl leaned forward.
""no.
that is my secret.
i am going to say a most emphatic "no.""
""but wo n't your family make an awful row?"
""of course.
but i rather enjoy a row now and then.
it stirs up one's grey matter so nicely.
i came out here this afternoon and thought the whole affair over from beginning to end.
and i have determined to say "no.""
""oh, i would n't make it so irreconcilable as that," said the young man lightly.
""i'd leave a loophole of escape.
you see, if you were to like him a little better than you expect, it would be awkward to have committed yourself by a rash vow to saying "no," would n't it?"
""i suppose it would," said the girl thoughtfully, "but then, you know, i wo n't change my mind."
""it's just as well to be on the safe side," said the young man.
the girl got up.
the rain was over and the sun was coming out through the mists.
""perhaps you are right," she said.
""so i'll just resolve that i will say "no" if i do n't want to say "yes."
that really amounts to the same thing, you know.
thank you so much for letting me tell you all about it.
it must have bored you terribly, but it has done me so much good.
i feel quite calm and rational now, and can go home and behave myself.
goodbye."
""goodbye," said the young man gravely.
he stood on the pavilion and watched the girl out of sight beyond the pines.
when the girl got home she was told that the dalhousie team had won the game, eight to four.
the girl dragged her hat off and waved it joyously.
""what a shame i was n't there!
they'd have gone mad over my dress."
but the next item of information crushed her.
the creature had arrived.
he had called that afternoon, and was coming to dinner that night.
""how fortunate," said the girl, as she went to her room, "that i relieved my mind to that young man out in the park today.
if i had come back with all that pent-up feeling seething within me and heard this news right on top of it all, i might have flown into a thousand pieces.
what lovely brown eyes he had!
i do dote on brown eyes.
the creature will be sure to have fishy blue ones."
* * * * * when the girl went down to meet the creature she found herself confronted by the young man.
for the first, last, and only time in her life, the girl had not a word to say.
but her family thought her confusion very natural and pretty.
they really had not expected her to behave so well.
as for the young man, his manner was flawless.
toward the end of the dinner, when the girl was beginning to recover herself, he turned to her.
""you know i promised never to tell," he said.
""be sure you do n't, then," said the girl meekly.
""but are n't you glad you left the loophole?"
he persisted.
the girl smiled down into her lap.
""perhaps," she said.
aunt cyrilla's christmas basket when lucy rose met aunt cyrilla coming downstairs, somewhat flushed and breathless from her ascent to the garret, with a big, flat-covered basket hanging over her plump arm, she gave a little sigh of despair.
lucy rose had done her brave best for some years -- in fact, ever since she had put up her hair and lengthened her skirts -- to break aunt cyrilla of the habit of carrying that basket with her every time she went to pembroke; but aunt cyrilla still insisted on taking it, and only laughed at what she called lucy rose's "finicky notions."
lucy rose had a horrible, haunting idea that it was extremely provincial for her aunt always to take the big basket, packed full of country good things, whenever she went to visit edward and geraldine.
geraldine was so stylish, and might think it queer; and then aunt cyrilla always would carry it on her arm and give cookies and apples and molasses taffy out of it to every child she encountered and, just as often as not, to older folks too.
lucy rose, when she went to town with aunt cyrilla, felt chagrined over this -- all of which goes to prove that lucy was as yet very young and had a great deal to learn in this world.
that troublesome worry over what geraldine would think nerved her to make a protest in this instance.
""now, aunt c'rilla," she pleaded, "you're surely not going to take that funny old basket to pembroke this time -- christmas day and all.""
"deed and "deed i am," returned aunt cyrilla briskly, as she put it on the table and proceeded to dust it out.
""i never went to see edward and geraldine since they were married that i did n't take a basket of good things along with me for them, and i'm not going to stop now.
as for it's being christmas, all the more reason.
edward is always real glad to get some of the old farmhouse goodies.
he says they beat city cooking all hollow, and so they do."
""but it's so countrified," moaned lucy rose.
""well, i am countrified," said aunt cyrilla firmly, "and so are you.
and what's more, i do n't see that it's anything to be ashamed of.
you've got some real silly pride about you, lucy rose.
you'll grow out of it in time, but just now it is giving you a lot of trouble."
""the basket is a lot of trouble," said lucy rose crossly.
""you're always mislaying it or afraid you will.
and it does look so funny to be walking through the streets with that big, bulgy basket hanging on your arm."
""i'm not a mite worried about its looks," returned aunt cyrilla calmly.
""as for its being a trouble, why, maybe it is, but i have that, and other people have the pleasure of it.
edward and geraldine do n't need it -- i know that -- but there may be those that will.
and if it hurts your feelings to walk "longside of a countrified old lady with a countrified basket, why, you can just fall behind, as it were."
aunt cyrilla nodded and smiled good-humouredly, and lucy rose, though she privately held to her own opinion, had to smile too.
""now, let me see," said aunt cyrilla reflectively, tapping the snowy kitchen table with the point of her plump, dimpled forefinger, "what shall i take?
that big fruit cake for one thing -- edward does like my fruit cake; and that cold boiled tongue for another.
those three mince pies too, they'd spoil before we got back or your uncle'd make himself sick eating them -- mince pie is his besetting sin.
and that little stone bottle full of cream -- geraldine may carry any amount of style, but i've yet to see her look down on real good country cream, lucy rose; and another bottle of my raspberry vinegar.
that plate of jelly cookies and doughnuts will please the children and fill up the chinks, and you can bring me that box of ice-cream candy out of the pantry, and that bag of striped candy sticks your uncle brought home from the corner last night.
and apples, of course -- three or four dozen of those good eaters -- and a little pot of my greengage preserves -- edward'll like that.
and some sandwiches and pound cake for a snack for ourselves.
now, i guess that will do for eatables.
the presents for the children can go in on top.
there's a doll for daisy and the little boat your uncle made for ray and a tatted lace handkerchief apiece for the twins, and the crochet hood for the baby.
now, is that all?"
""there's a cold roast chicken in the pantry," said lucy rose wickedly, "and the pig uncle leo killed is hanging up in the porch.
could n't you put them in too?"
aunt cyrilla smiled broadly.
""well, i guess we'll leave the pig alone; but since you have reminded me of it, the chicken may as well go in.
i can make room."
lucy rose, in spite of her prejudices, helped with the packing and, not having been trained under aunt cyrilla's eye for nothing, did it very well too, with much clever economy of space.
but when aunt cyrilla had put in as a finishing touch a big bouquet of pink and white everlastings, and tied the bulging covers down with a firm hand, lucy rose stood over the basket and whispered vindictively: "some day i'm going to burn this basket -- when i get courage enough.
then there'll be an end of lugging it everywhere we go like a -- like an old market-woman."
uncle leopold came in just then, shaking his head dubiously.
he was not going to spend christmas with edward and geraldine, and perhaps the prospect of having to cook and eat his christmas dinner all alone made him pessimistic.
""i mistrust you folks wo n't get to pembroke tomorrow," he said sagely.
""it's going to storm."
aunt cyrilla did not worry over this.
she believed matters of this kind were fore-ordained, and she slept calmly.
but lucy rose got up three times in the night to see if it were storming, and when she did sleep had horrible nightmares of struggling through blinding snowstorms dragging aunt cyrilla's christmas basket along with her.
it was not snowing in the early morning, and uncle leopold drove aunt cyrilla and lucy rose and the basket to the station, four miles off.
when they reached there the air was thick with flying flakes.
the stationmaster sold them their tickets with a grim face.
""if there's any more snow comes, the trains might as well keep christmas too," he said.
""there's been so much snow already that traffic is blocked half the time, and now there ai n't no place to shovel the snow off onto."
aunt cyrilla said that if the train were to get to pembroke in time for christmas, it would get there; and she opened her basket and gave the stationmaster and three small boys an apple apiece.
""that's the beginning," groaned lucy rose to herself.
when their train came along aunt cyrilla established herself in one seat and her basket in another, and looked beamingly around her at her fellow travellers.
these were few in number -- a delicate little woman at the end of the car, with a baby and four other children, a young girl across the aisle with a pale, pretty face, a sunburned lad three seats ahead in a khaki uniform, a very handsome, imposing old lady in a sealskin coat ahead of him, and a thin young man with spectacles opposite.
""a minister," reflected aunt cyrilla, beginning to classify, "who takes better care of other folks" souls than of his own body; and that woman in the sealskin is discontented and cross at something -- got up too early to catch the train, maybe; and that young chap must be one of the boys not long out of the hospital.
that woman's children look as if they had n't enjoyed a square meal since they were born; and if that girl across from me has a mother, i'd like to know what the woman means, letting her daughter go from home in this weather in clothes like that."
lucy rose merely wondered uncomfortably what the others thought of aunt cyrilla's basket.
they expected to reach pembroke that night, but as the day wore on the storm grew worse.
twice the train had to stop while the train hands dug it out.
the third time it could not go on.
it was dusk when the conductor came through the train, replying brusquely to the questions of the anxious passengers.
""a nice lookout for christmas -- no, impossible to go on or back -- track blocked for miles -- what's that, madam?
-- no, no station near -- woods for miles.
we're here for the night.
these storms of late have played the mischief with everything."
""oh, dear," groaned lucy rose.
aunt cyrilla looked at her basket complacently.
""at any rate, we wo n't starve," she said.
the pale, pretty girl seemed indifferent.
the sealskin lady looked crosser than ever.
the khaki boy said, "just my luck," and two of the children began to cry.
aunt cyrilla took some apples and striped candy sticks from her basket and carried them to them.
she lifted the oldest into her ample lap and soon had them all around her, laughing and contented.
the rest of the travellers straggled over to the corner and drifted into conversation.
the khaki boy said it was hard lines not to get home for christmas, after all.
""i was invalided from south africa three months ago, and i've been in the hospital at netley ever since.
reached halifax three days ago and telegraphed the old folks i'd eat my christmas dinner with them, and to have an extra-big turkey because i did n't have any last year.
they'll be badly disappointed."
he looked disappointed too.
one khaki sleeve hung empty by his side.
aunt cyrilla passed him an apple.
""we were all going down to grandpa's for christmas," said the little mother's oldest boy dolefully.
""we've never been there before, and it's just too bad."
he looked as if he wanted to cry but thought better of it and bit off a mouthful of candy.
""will there be any santa claus on the train?"
demanded his small sister tearfully.
""jack says there wo n't."
""i guess he'll find you out," said aunt cyrilla reassuringly.
the pale, pretty girl came up and took the baby from the tired mother.
""what a dear little fellow," she said softly.
""are you going home for christmas too?"
asked aunt cyrilla.
the girl shook her head.
""i have n't any home.
i'm just a shop girl out of work at present, and i'm going to pembroke to look for some."
aunt cyrilla went to her basket and took out her box of cream candy.
""i guess we might as well enjoy ourselves.
let's eat it all up and have a good time.
maybe we'll get down to pembroke in the morning."
the little group grew cheerful as they nibbled, and even the pale girl brightened up.
the little mother told aunt cyrilla her story aside.
she had been long estranged from her family, who had disapproved of her marriage.
her husband had died the previous summer, leaving her in poor circumstances.
""father wrote to me last week and asked me to let bygones be bygones and come home for christmas.
i was so glad.
and the children's hearts were set on it.
it seems too bad that we are not to get there.
i have to be back at work the morning after christmas."
the khaki boy came up again and shared the candy.
he told amusing stories of campaigning in south africa.
the minister came too, and listened, and even the sealskin lady turned her head over her shoulder.
by and by the children fell asleep, one on aunt cyrilla's lap and one on lucy rose's, and two on the seat.
aunt cyrilla and the pale girl helped the mother make up beds for them.
the minister gave his overcoat and the sealskin lady came forward with a shawl.
""this will do for the baby," she said.
""we must get up some santa claus for these youngsters," said the khaki boy.
""let's hang their stockings on the wall and fill'em up as best we can.
i've nothing about me but some hard cash and a jack-knife.
i'll give each of'em a quarter and the boy can have the knife."
""i've nothing but money either," said the sealskin lady regretfully.
aunt cyrilla glanced at the little mother.
she had fallen asleep with her head against the seat-back.
""i've got a basket over there," said aunt cyrilla firmly, "and i've some presents in it that i was taking to my nephew's children.
i'm going to give'em to these.
as for the money, i think the mother is the one for it to go to.
she's been telling me her story, and a pitiful one it is.
let's make up a little purse among us for a christmas present."
the idea met with favour.
the khaki boy passed his cap and everybody contributed.
the sealskin lady put in a crumpled note.
when aunt cyrilla straightened it out she saw that it was for twenty dollars.
meanwhile, lucy rose had brought the basket.
she smiled at aunt cyrilla as she lugged it down the aisle and aunt cyrilla smiled back.
lucy rose had never touched that basket of her own accord before.
ray's boat went to jacky, and daisy's doll to his oldest sister, the twins" lace handkerchiefs to the two smaller girls and the hood to the baby.
then the stockings were filled up with doughnuts and jelly cookies and the money was put in an envelope and pinned to the little mother's jacket.
""that baby is such a dear little fellow," said the sealskin lady gently.
""he looks something like my little son.
he died eighteen christmases ago."
aunt cyrilla put her hand over the lady's kid glove.
""so did mine," she said.
then the two women smiled tenderly at each other.
afterwards they rested from their labours and all had what aunt cyrilla called a "snack" of sandwiches and pound cake.
the khaki boy said he had n't tasted anything half so good since he left home.
""they did n't give us pound cake in south africa," he said.
when morning came the storm was still raging.
the children wakened and went wild with delight over their stockings.
the little mother found her envelope and tried to utter thanks and broke down; and nobody knew what to say or do, when the conductor fortunately came in and made a diversion by telling them they might as well resign themselves to spending christmas on the train.
""this is serious," said the khaki boy, "when you consider that we've no provisions.
do n't mind for myself, used to half rations or no rations at all.
but these kiddies will have tremendous appetites."
then aunt cyrilla rose to the occasion.
""i've got some emergency rations here," she announced.
""there's plenty for all and we'll have our christmas dinner, although a cold one.
breakfast first thing.
there's a sandwich apiece left and we must fill up on what is left of the cookies and doughnuts and save the rest for a real good spread at dinner time.
the only thing is, i have n't any bread."
""i've a box of soda crackers," said the little mother eagerly.
nobody in that car will ever forget that christmas.
to begin with, after breakfast they had a concert.
the khaki boy gave two recitations, sang three songs, and gave a whistling solo.
lucy rose gave three recitations and the minister a comic reading.
the pale shop girl sang two songs.
it was agreed that the khaki boy's whistling solo was the best number, and aunt cyrilla gave him the bouquet of everlastings as a reward of merit.
then the conductor came in with the cheerful news that the storm was almost over and he thought the track would be cleared in a few hours.
""if we can get to the next station we'll be all right," he said.
""the branch joins the main line there and the tracks will be clear."
at noon they had dinner.
the train hands were invited in to share it.
the minister carved the chicken with the brakeman's jack-knife and the khaki boy cut up the tongue and the mince pies, while the sealskin lady mixed the raspberry vinegar with its due proportion of water.
bits of paper served as plates.
the train furnished a couple of glasses, a tin pint cup was discovered and given to the children, aunt cyrilla and lucy rose and the sealskin lady drank, turn about, from the latter's graduated medicine glass, the shop girl and the little mother shared one of the empty bottles, and the khaki boy, the minister, and the train men drank out of the other bottle.
everybody declared they had never enjoyed a meal more in their lives.
certainly it was a merry one, and aunt cyrilla's cooking was never more appreciated; indeed, the bones of the chicken and the pot of preserves were all that was left.
they could not eat the preserves because they had no spoons, so aunt cyrilla gave them to the little mother.
when all was over, a hearty vote of thanks was passed to aunt cyrilla and her basket.
the sealskin lady wanted to know how she made her pound cake, and the khaki boy asked for her receipt for jelly cookies.
and when two hours later the conductor came in and said the snowploughs had got along and they'd soon be starting, they all wondered if it could really be less than twenty-four hours since they met.
""i feel as if i'd been campaigning with you all my life," said the khaki boy.
at the next station they all parted.
the little mother and the children had to take the next train back home.
the minister stayed there, and the khaki boy and the sealskin lady changed trains.
the sealskin lady shook aunt cyrilla's hand.
she no longer looked discontented or cross.
""this has been the pleasantest christmas i have ever spent," she said heartily.
""i shall never forget that wonderful basket of yours.
the little shop girl is going home with me.
i've promised her a place in my husband's store."
when aunt cyrilla and lucy rose reached pembroke there was nobody to meet them because everyone had given up expecting them.
it was not far from the station to edward's house and aunt cyrilla elected to walk.
""i'll carry the basket," said lucy rose.
aunt cyrilla relinquished it with a smile.
lucy rose smiled too.
""it's a blessed old basket," said the latter, "and i love it.
please forget all the silly things i ever said about it, aunt c'rilla."
davenport's story it was a rainy afternoon, and we had been passing the time by telling ghost stories.
that is a very good sort of thing for a rainy afternoon, and it is a much better time than after night.
if you tell ghost stories after dark they are apt to make you nervous, whether you own up to it or not, and you sneak home and dodge upstairs in mortal terror, and undress with your back to the wall, so that you ca n't fancy there is anything behind you.
we had each told a story, and had had the usual assortment of mysterious noises and death warnings and sheeted spectres and so on, down through the whole catalogue of horrors -- enough to satisfy any reasonable ghost-taster.
but jack, as usual, was dissatisfied.
he said our stories were all second-hand stuff.
there was n't a man in the crowd who had ever seen or heard a ghost; all our so-called authentic stories had been told us by persons who had the story from other persons who saw the ghosts.
""one does n't get any information from that," said jack.
""i never expect to get so far along as to see a real ghost myself, but i would like to see and talk to one who had."
some persons appear to have the knack of getting their wishes granted.
jack is one of that ilk.
just as he made the remark, davenport sauntered in and, finding out what was going on, volunteered to tell a ghost story himself -- something that had happened to his grandmother, or maybe it was his great-aunt; i forget which.
it was a very good ghost story as ghost stories go, and davenport told it well.
even jack admitted that, but he said: "it's only second-hand too.
did you ever have a ghostly experience yourself, old man?"
davenport put his finger tips critically together.
""would you believe me if i said i had?"
he asked.
""no," said jack unblushingly.
""then there would be no use in my saying it."
""but you do n't mean that you ever really had, of course?"
""i do n't know.
something queer happened once.
i've never been able to explain it -- from a practical point of view, that is.
want to hear about it?"
of course we did.
this was exciting.
nobody would ever have suspected davenport of seeing ghosts.
""it's conventional enough," he began.
""ghosts do n't seem to have much originality.
but it's firsthand, jack, if that's what you want.
i do n't suppose any of you have ever heard me speak of my brother, charles.
he was my senior by two years, and was a quiet, reserved sort of fellow -- not at all demonstrative, but with very strong and deep affections.
""when he left college he became engaged to dorothy chester.
she was very beautiful, and my brother idolized her.
she died a short time before the date set for their marriage, and charles never recovered from the blow.
""i married dorothy's sister, virginia.
virginia did not in the least resemble her sister, but our eldest daughter was strikingly like her dead aunt.
we called her dorothy, and charles was devoted to her.
dolly, as we called her, was always "uncle charley's girl."
""when dolly was twelve years old charles went to new orleans on business, and while there took yellow fever and died.
he was buried there, and dolly half broke her childish heart over his death.
""one day, five years later, when dolly was seventeen, i was writing letters in my library.
that very morning my wife and dolly had gone to new york en route for europe.
dolly was going to school in paris for a year.
business prevented my accompanying them even as far as new york, but gilbert chester, my wife's brother, was going with them.
they were to sail on the aragon the next morning.
""i had written steadily for about an hour.
at last, growing tired, i threw down my pen and, leaning back in my chair, was on the point of lighting a cigar when an unaccountable impulse made me turn round.
i dropped my cigar and sprang to my feet in amazement.
there was only one door in the room and i had all along been facing it.
i could have sworn nobody had entered, yet there, standing between me and the bookcase, was a man -- and that man was my brother charles!
""there was no mistaking him; i saw him as plainly as i see you.
he was a tall, rather stout man, with curly hair and a fair, close-clipped beard.
he wore the same light-grey suit which he had worn when bidding us good-bye on the morning of his departure for new orleans.
he had no hat on, but wore spectacles, and was standing in his old favourite attitude, with his hands behind him.
""i want you to understand that at this precise moment, although i was surprised beyond measure, i was not in the least frightened, because i did not for a moment suppose that what i saw was -- well, a ghost or apparition of any sort.
the thought that flashed across my bewildered brain was simply that there had been some absurd mistake somewhere, and that my brother had never died at all, but was here, alive and well.
i took a hasty step towards him."
"good heavens, old fellow!"
i exclaimed.
"where on earth have you come from?
why, we all thought you were dead!"
""i was quite close to him when i stopped abruptly.
somehow i could n't move another step.
he made no motion, but his eyes looked straight into mine."
"do not let dolly sail on the aragon tomorrow," he said in slow, clear tones that i heard distinctly.
""and then he was gone -- yes, jack, i know it is a very conventional way of ending up a ghost story, | but i have to tell you just what occurred, or at least what i thought occurred.
one moment he was there and the next moment he was n't.
he did not pass me or go out of the door.
""for a few moments i felt dazed.
i was wide awake and in my right and proper senses so far as i could judge, and yet the whole thing seemed incredible.
scared?
no, i was n't conscious of being scared.
i was simply bewildered.
""in my mental confusion one thought stood out sharply -- dolly was in danger of some kind, and if the warning was really from a supernatural source, it must not be disregarded.
i rushed to the station and, having first wired to my wife not to sail on the aragon, i found that i could connect with the five-fifteen train for new york.
i took it with the comfortable consciousness that my friends would certainly think i had gone out of my mind.
""i arrived in new york at eight o'clock the next morning and at once drove to the hotel where my wife, daughter and brother-in-law were staying.
i found them greatly mystified by my telegram.
i suppose my explanation was a very lame one.
i know i felt decidedly like a fool.
gilbert laughed at me and said i had dreamed the whole thing.
virginia was perplexed, but dolly accepted the warning unhesitatingly."
"of course it was uncle charley," she said confidently.
"we will not sail on the aragon now."
""gilbert had to give in to this decision with a very bad grace, and the aragon sailed that day minus three of her intended passengers.
""well, you've all heard of the historic collision between the aragon and the astarte in a fog, and the fearful loss of life it involved.
gilbert did n't laugh when the news came, i assure you.
virginia and dolly sailed a month later on the marseilles, and reached the other side in safety.
that's all the story, boys -- the only experience of the kind i ever had," concluded davenport.
we had many questions to ask and several theories to advance.
jack said davenport had dreamed it and that the collision of the aragon and the astarte was simply a striking coincidence.
but davenport merely smiled at all our suggestions and, as it cleared up just about three, we told no more ghost stories.
emily's husband emily fair got out of hiram jameson's waggon at the gate.
she took her satchel and parasol and, in her clear, musical tones, thanked him for bringing her home.
emily had a very distinctive voice.
it was very sweet always and very cold generally; sometimes it softened to tenderness with those she loved, but in it there was always an undertone of inflexibility and reserve.
nobody had ever heard emily fair's voice tremble.
""you are more than welcome, mrs. fair," said hiram jameson, with a glance of bold admiration.
emily met it with an unflinching indifference.
she disliked hiram jameson.
she had been furious under all her external composure because he had been at the station when she left the train.
jameson perceived her scorn, but chose to disregard it.
""proud as lucifer," he thought as he drove away.
""well, she's none the worse of that.
i do n't like your weak women -- they're always sly.
if stephen fair do n't get better she'll be free and then --" he did not round out the thought, but he gloated over the memory of emily, standing by the gate in the harsh, crude light of the autumn sunset, with her tawny, brown hair curling about her pale, oval face and the scornful glint in her large, dark-grey eyes.
emily stood at the gate for some time after jameson's waggon had disappeared.
when the brief burst of sunset splendour had faded out she turned and went into the garden where late asters and chrysanthemums still bloomed.
she gathered some of the more perfect ones here and there.
she loved flowers, but to-night the asters seemed to hurt her, for she presently dropped those she had gathered and deliberately set her foot on them.
a sudden gust of wind came over the brown, sodden fields and the ragged maples around the garden writhed and wailed.
the air was raw and chill.
the rain that had threatened all day was very near.
emily shivered and went into the house.
amelia phillips was bending over the fire.
she came forward and took emily's parcels and wraps with a certain gentleness that sat oddly on her grim personality.
""are you tired?
i'm glad you're back.
did you walk from the station?"
""no.
hiram jameson was there and offered to drive me home.
i'd rather have walked.
it's going to be a storm, i think.
where is john?"
""he went to the village after supper," answered amelia, lighting a lamp.
""we needed some things from the store."
the light flared up as she spoke and brought out her strong, almost harsh features and deep-set black eyes.
amelia phillips looked like an overdone sketch in charcoal.
""has anything happened in woodford while i've been away?"
asked emily indifferently.
plainly she did not expect an affirmative answer.
woodford life was not eventful.
amelia glanced at her sharply.
so she had not heard!
amelia had expected that hiram jameson would have told her.
she wished that he had, for she never felt sure of emily.
the older sister knew that beneath that surface reserve was a passionate nature, brooking no restraint when once it overleaped the bounds of her puritan self-control.
amelia phillips, with all her naturally keen insight and her acquired knowledge of emily's character, had never been able to fathom the latter's attitude of mind towards her husband.
from the time that emily had come back to her girlhood's home, five years before, stephen fair's name had never crossed her lips.
""i suppose you have n't heard that stephen is very ill," said amelia slowly.
not a feature of emily's face changed.
only in her voice when she spoke was a curious jarring, as if a false note had been struck in a silver melody.
""what is the matter with him?"
""typhoid," answered amelia briefly.
she felt relieved that emily had taken it so calmly.
amelia hated stephen fair with all the intensity of her nature because she believed that he had treated emily ill, but she had always been distrustful that emily in her heart of hearts loved her husband still.
that, in amelia phillips" opinion, would have betrayed a weakness not to be tolerated.
emily looked at the lamp unwinkingly.
""that wick needs trimming," she said.
then, with a sudden recurrence of the untuneful note: "is he dangerously ill?"
""we have n't heard for three days.
the doctors were not anxious about him monday, though they said it was a pretty severe case."
a faint, wraith-like change of expression drifted over emily's beautiful face and was gone in a moment.
what was it -- relief?
regret?
it would have been impossible to say.
when she next spoke her vibrant voice was as perfectly melodious as usual.
""i think i will go to bed, amelia.
john will not be back until late i suppose, and i am very tired.
there comes the rain.
i suppose it will spoil all the flowers.
they will be beaten to pieces."
in the dark hall emily paused for a moment and opened the front door to be cut in the face with a whip-like dash of rain.
she peered out into the thickly gathering gloom.
beyond, in the garden, she saw the asters tossed about, phantom-like.
the wind around the many-cornered old farmhouse was full of wails and sobs.
the clock in the sitting-room struck eight.
emily shivered and shut the door.
she remembered that she had been married at eight o'clock that very morning seven years ago.
she thought she could see herself coming down the stairs in her white dress with her bouquet of asters.
for a moment she was glad that those mocking flowers in the garden would be all beaten to death before morning by the lash of wind and rain.
then she recovered her mental poise and put the hateful memories away from her as she went steadily up the narrow stairs and along the hall with its curious slant as the house had settled, to her own room under the north-western eaves.
when she had put out her light and gone to bed she found that she could not sleep.
she pretended to believe that it was the noise of the storm that kept her awake.
not even to herself would emily confess that she was waiting and listening nervously for john's return home.
that would have been to admit a weakness, and emily fair, like amelia, despised weakness.
every few minutes a gust of wind smote the house, with a roar as of a wild beast, and bombarded emily's window with a volley of rattling drops.
in the silences that came between the gusts she heard the soft, steady pouring of the rain on the garden paths below, mingled with a faint murmur that came up from the creek beyond the barns where the pine boughs were thrashing in the storm.
emily suddenly thought of a weird story she had once read years before and long forgotten -- a story of a soul that went out in a night of storm and blackness and lost its way between earth and heaven.
she shuddered and drew the counterpane over her face.
""of all things i hate a fall storm most," she muttered.
""it frightens me."
somewhat to her surprise -- for even her thoughts were generally well under the control of her unbending will -- she could not help thinking of stephen -- thinking of him not tenderly or remorsefully, but impersonally, as of a man who counted for nothing in her life.
it was so strange to think of stephen being ill.
she had never known him to have a day's sickness in his life before.
she looked back over her life much as if she were glancing with a chill interest at a series of pictures which in no way concerned her.
scene after scene, face after face, flashed out on the background of the darkness.
emily's mother had died at her birth, but amelia phillips, twenty years older than the baby sister, had filled the vacant place so well and with such intuitive tenderness that emily had never been conscious of missing a mother.
john phillips, too, the grave, silent, elder brother, loved and petted the child.
woodford people were fond of saying that john and amelia spoiled emily shamefully.
emily phillips had never been like the other woodford girls and had no friends of her own age among them.
her uncommon beauty won her many lovers, but she had never cared for any of them until stephen fair, fifteen years her senior, had come a-wooing to the old, gray, willow-girdled phillips homestead.
amelia and john phillips never liked him.
there was an ancient feud between the families that had died out among the younger generation, but was still potent with the older.
from the first emily had loved stephen.
indeed, deep down in her strange, wayward heart, she had cared for him long before the memorable day when he had first looked at her with seeing eyes and realized that the quiet, unthought-of child who had been growing up at the old phillips place had blossomed out into a woman of strange, seraph-like beauty and deep grey eyes whose expression was nevermore to go out of stephen fair's remembrance from then till the day of his death.
john and amelia phillips put their own unjustifiable dislike of stephen aside when they found that emily's heart was set on him.
the two were married after a brief courtship and emily went out from her girlhood's home to the fair homestead, two miles away.
stephen's mother lived with them.
janet fair had never liked emily.
she had not been willing for stephen to marry her.
but, apart from this, the woman had a natural, ineradicable love of making mischief and took a keen pleasure in it.
she loved her son and she had loved her husband, but nevertheless, when thomas fair had been alive she had fomented continual strife and discontent between him and stephen.
now it became her pleasure to make what trouble she could between stephen and his wife.
she had the advantage of emily in that she was always sweet-spoken and, on the surface, sweet-tempered.
emily, hurt and galled in a score of petty ways, so subtle that they were beyond a man's courser comprehension, astonished her husband by her fierce outbursts of anger that seemed to him for the most part without reason or excuse.
he tried his best to preserve the peace between his wife and mother; and when he failed, not understanding all that emily really endured at the elder woman's merciless hands, he grew to think her capricious and easily irritated -- a spoiled child whose whims must not be taken too seriously.
to a certain extent he was right.
emily had been spoiled.
the unbroken indulgence which her brother and sister had always accorded her had fitted her but poorly to cope with the trials of her new life.
true, mrs. fair was an unpleasant woman to live with, but if emily had chosen to be more patient under petty insults, and less resentful of her husband's well-meant though clumsy efforts for harmony, the older woman could have effected real little mischief.
but this emily refused to be, and the breach between husband and wife widened insidiously.
the final rupture came two years after their marriage.
emily, in rebellious anger, told her husband that she would no longer live in the same house with his mother.
""you must choose between us," she said, her splendid voice vibrating with all the unleashed emotion of her being, yet with no faltering in it.
""if she stays i go."
stephen fair, harassed and bewildered, was angry with the relentless anger of a patient man roused at last.
""go, then," he said sternly, "i'll never turn my mother from my door for any woman's whim."
the stormy red went out of emily's face, leaving it like a marble wash.
""you mean that!"
she said calmly.
""think well.
if i go i'll never return."
""i do mean it," said stephen.
""leave my house if you will -- if you hold your marriage vow so lightly.
when your senses return you are welcome to come back to me.
i will never ask you to."
without another word emily turned away.
that night she went back to john and amelia.
they, on their part, welcomed her back gladly, believing her to be a wronged and ill-used woman.
they hated stephen fair with a new and personal rancour.
the one thing they could hardly have forgiven emily would have been the fact of her relenting towards him.
but she did not relent.
in her soul she knew that, with all her just grievances, she had been in the wrong, and for that she could not forgive him!
two years after she had left stephen mrs. fair died, and his widowed sister-in-law went to keep house for him.
if he thought of emily he made no sign.
stephen fair never broke a word once passed.
since their separation no greeting or look had ever passed between husband and wife.
when they met, as they occasionally did, neither impassive face changed.
emily fair had buried her love deeply.
in her pride and anger she would not let herself remember even where she had dug its grave.
and now stephen was ill.
the strange woman felt a certain pride in her own inflexibility because the fact did not affect her.
she told herself that she could not have felt more unconcerned had he been the merest stranger.
nevertheless she waited and watched for john phillips" homecoming.
at ten o'clock she heard his voice in the kitchen.
she leaned out of the bed and pulled open her door.
she heard voices below, but could not distinguish the words, so she rose and went noiselessly out into the hall, knelt down by the stair railing and listened.
the door of the kitchen was open below her and a narrow shaft of light struck on her white, intent face.
she looked like a woman waiting for the decree of doom.
at first john and amelia talked of trivial matters.
then the latter said abruptly: "did you hear how stephen fair was?"
""he's dying," was the brief response.
emily heard amelia's startled exclamation.
she gripped the square rails with her hands until the sharp edges dinted deep into her fingers.
john's voice came up to her again, harsh and expressionless: "he took a bad turn the day before yesterday and has been getting worse ever since.
the doctors do n't expect him to live till morning."
amelia began to talk rapidly in low tones.
emily heard nothing further.
she got up and went blindly back into her room with such agony tearing at her heartstrings that she dully wondered why she could not shriek aloud.
stephen -- her husband -- dying!
in the burning anguish of that moment her own soul was as an open book before her.
the love she had buried rose from the deeps of her being in an awful, accusing resurrection.
out of her stupor and pain a purpose formed itself clearly.
she must go to stephen -- she must beg and win his forgiveness before it was too late.
she dared not go down to john and ask him to take her to her husband.
he might refuse.
the phillipses had been known to do even harder things than that.
at the best there would be a storm of protest and objection on her brother's and sister's part, and emily felt that she could not encounter that in her present mood.
it would drive her mad.
she lit a lamp and dressed herself noiselessly, but with feverish haste.
then she listened.
the house was very still.
amelia and john had gone to bed.
she wrapped herself in a heavy woollen shawl hanging in the hall and crept downstairs.
with numbed fingers she fumbled at the key of the hall door, turned it and slipped out into the night.
the storm seemed to reach out and clutch her and swallow her up.
she went through the garden, where the flowers already were crushed to earth; she crossed the long field beyond, where the rain cut her face like a whip and the wind almost twisted her in its grasp like a broken reed.
somehow or other, more by blind instinct than anything else, she found the path that led through commons and woods and waste valleys to her lost home.
in after years that frenzied walk through the storm and blackness seemed as an unbroken nightmare to emily fair's recollection.
often she fell.
once as she did so a jagged, dead limb of fir struck her forehead and cut in it a gash that marked her for life.
as she struggled to her feet and found her way again the blood trickled down over her face.
""oh god, do n't let him die before i get to him -- do n't -- do n't -- do n't!"
she prayed desperately with more of defiance than entreaty in her voice.
then, realizing this, she cried out in horror.
surely some fearsome punishment would come upon her for her wickedness -- she would find her husband lying dead.
when emily opened the kitchen door of the fair homestead almira sentner cried out in her alarm, who or what was this creature with the white face and wild eyes, with her torn and dripping garments and dishevelled, wind-writhen hair and the big drops of blood slowly trickling from her brow?
the next moment she recognized emily and her face hardened.
this woman, stephen's sister-in-law, had always hated emily fair.
""what do you want here?"
she said harshly.
""where is my husband?"
asked emily.
""you ca n't see him," said mrs. sentner defiantly.
""the doctors wo n't allow anyone in the room but those he's used to.
strangers excite him."
the insolence and cruelty of her speech fell on unheeding ears.
emily, understanding only that her husband yet lived, turned to the hall door.
""stand back!"
she said in a voice that was little more than a thrilling whisper, but which yet had in it something that cowed almira sentner's malice.
sullenly she stood aside and emily went unhindered up the stairs to the room where the sick man lay.
the two doctors in attendance were there, together with the trained nurse from the city.
emily pushed them aside and fell on her knees by the bed.
one of the doctors made a hasty motion as if to draw her back, but the other checked him.
""it does n't matter now," he said significantly.
stephen fair turned his languid, unshorn head on the pillow.
his dull, fevered eyes met emily's.
he had not recognized anyone all day, but he knew his wife.
""emily!"
he whispered.
emily drew his head close to her face and kissed his lips passionately.
""stephen, i've come back to you.
forgive me -- forgive me -- say that you forgive me."
""it's all right, my girl," he said feebly.
she buried her face in the pillow beside his with a sob.
in the wan, grey light of the autumn dawn the old doctor came to the bedside and lifted emily to her feet.
she had not stirred the whole night.
now she raised her white face with dumb pleading in her eyes.
the doctor glanced at the sleeping form on the bed.
""your husband will live, mrs. fair," he said gently.
""i think your coming saved him.
his joy turned the ebbing tide in favour of life."
""thank god!"
said emily.
and for the first time in her life her beautiful voice trembled.
min the morning sun hung, a red, lustreless ball, in the dull grey sky.
a light snow had fallen in the night and the landscape, crossed by spider-like trails of fences, was as white and lifeless as if wrapped in a shroud.
a young man was driving down the road to rykman's corner; the youthful face visible above the greatcoat was thoughtful and refined, the eyes deep blue and peculiarly beautiful, the mouth firm yet sensitive.
it was not a handsome face, but there was a strangely subtle charm about it.
the chill breathlessness of the air seemed prophetic of more snow.
the reverend allan telford looked across the bare wastes and cold white hills and shivered, as if the icy lifelessness about him were slowly and relentlessly creeping into his own heart and life.
he felt utterly discouraged.
in his soul he was asking bitterly what good had come of all his prayerful labours among the people of this pinched, narrow world, as rugged and unbeautiful in form and life as the barren hills that shut them in.
he had been two years among them and he counted it two years of failure.
he had been too outspoken for them; they resented sullenly his direct and incisive tirades against their pet sins.
they viewed his small innovations on their traditional ways of worship with disfavour and distrust and shut him out of their lives with an ever-increasing coldness.
he had meant well and worked hard and he felt his failure keenly.
his thoughts reverted to a letter received the preceding day from a former classmate, stating that the pastorate of a certain desirable town church had become vacant and hinting that a call was to be moderated for him unless he signified his unwillingness to accept.
two years before, allan telford, fresh from college and full of vigorous enthusiasm and high ideas, would have said: "no, that is not for me.
my work must lie among the poor and lowly of earth as did my master's.
shall i shrink from it because, to worldly eyes, the way looks dreary and uninviting?"
now, looking back on his two years" ministry, he said wearily: "i can remain here no longer.
if i do, i fear i shall sink down into something almost as pitiful as one of these canting, gossiping people myself.
i can do them no good -- they do not like or trust me.
i will accept this call and go back to my own world."
perhaps the keynote of his failure was sounded in his last words, "my own world."
he had never felt, or tried to feel, that this narrow sphere was his own world.
it was some lower level to which he had come with good tidings and honest intentions but, unconsciously, he had held himself above it, and his people felt and resented this.
they expressed it by saying he was "stuck-up."
rykman's corner came into view as he drove over the brow of a long hill.
he hated the place, knowing it well for what it was -- a festering hotbed of gossip and malice, the habitat of all the slanderous rumours and innuendoes that permeated the social tissue of the community.
the newest scandal, the worst-flavoured joke, the latest details of the most recent quarrel, were always to be had at rykman's store.
as the minister drove down the hill, a man came out of a small house at the foot and waited on the road.
had it been possible telford would have pretended not to see him, but it was not possible, for isaac galletly meant to be seen and hailed the minister cheerfully.
""good mornin", mr. telford.
ye wo n't mind giving me a lift down to the corner, i dessay?"
telford checked his horse reluctantly and galletly crawled into the cutter.
he was that most despicable of created beings, a male gossip, and he spent most of his time travelling from house to house in the village, smoking his pipe in neighbourly kitchens and fanning into an active blaze all the smouldering feuds of the place.
he had been nicknamed "the morning chronicle" by a sarcastic schoolteacher who had sojourned a winter at the corner.
the name was an apt one and clung.
telford had heard it.
i suppose he is starting out on his rounds now, he thought.
galletly plunged undauntedly into the conversational gap.
""quite a fall of snow last night.
reckon we'll have more "fore long.
that was a grand sermon ye gave us last sunday, mr. telford.
reckon it went home to some folks, judgin" from all i've heard.
it was needed and that's a fact.
"live peaceably with all men" -- that's what i lay out to do.
there ai n't a house in the district but what i can drop into and welcome.
"tai n't everybody in rykman's corner can say the same."
galletly squinted out of the corner of his eye to see if the minister would open on the trail of this hint.
telford's passive face was discouraging but galletly was not to be baffled.
""i s "pose ye have n't heard about the row down at palmers" last night?"
""no."
the monosyllable was curt.
telford was vainly seeking to nip galletly's gossip in the bud.
the name of palmer conveyed no especial meaning to his ear.
he knew where the palmer homestead was, and that the plaintive-faced, fair-haired woman, whose name was mrs. fuller and who came to church occasionally, lived there.
his knowledge went no further.
he had called three times and found nobody at home -- at least, to all appearances.
now he was fated to have the whole budget of some vulgar quarrel forced on him by galletly.
""no?
everyone's talkin" of it.
the long and short of it is that min palmer has had a regular up-and-down row with rose fuller and turned her and her little gal out of doors.
i believe the two women had an awful time.
min's a tartar when her temper's up -- and that's pretty often.
nobody knows how rose managed to put up with her so long.
but she has had to go at last.
goodness knows what the poor critter'll do.
she has n't a cent nor a relation -- she was just an orphan girl that palmer brought up.
she is at rawlingses now.
maybe when min cools off, she'll let her go back but it's doubtful.
min hates her like p "isen."
to telford this was all very unintelligible.
but he understood that mrs. fuller was in trouble of some kind and that it was his duty to help her if possible, although he had an odd and unaccountable aversion to the woman, for which he had often reproached himself.
""who is this woman you call min palmer?"
he said coldly.
""what are the family circumstances?
i ought to know, perhaps, if i am to be of any service -- but i have no wish to hear idle gossip."
his concluding sentence was quite unheeded by galletly.
""min palmer's the worst woman in rykman's corner -- or out of it.
she always was an odd one.
i mind her when she was a girl -- a saucy, black-eyed baggage she was!
handsome, some folks called her.
i never c'd see it.
her people were a queer crowd and min was never brung up right -- jest let run wild all her life.
well, rod palmer took to dancin" attendance on her.
rod was a worthless scamp.
old palmer was well off and rod was his only child, but this rose lived there and kept house for them after mis" palmer died.
she was a quiet, well-behaved little creetur.
folks said the old man wanted rod to marry her -- dunno if't was so or not.
in the end, howsomever, he had to marry min.
her brother got after him with a horse-whip, ye understand.
old palmer was furious but he had to give in and rod brought her home.
she was a bit sobered down by her trouble and lived quiet and sullen-like at first.
her and rod fought like cat and dog.
rose married osh fuller, a worthless, drunken fellow.
he died in a year or so and left rose and her baby without a roof over their heads.
then old palmer went and brought her home.
he set great store by rose and he c "d n't bear min.
min had to be civil to rose as long as old palmer lived.
fin "lly rod up and died and't was n't long before his father went too.
then the queer part came in.
everyone expected that he'd purvide well for rose and min'd come in second best.
but no will was to be found.
i do n't say but what it was all right, mind you.
i may have my own secret opinion, of course.
old palmer had a regular mania, as ye might say, for makin" wills.
he'd have a lawyer out from town every year and have a new will made and the old one burnt.
lawyer bell was there and made one "bout eight months "fore he died.
it was s "posed he'd destroyed it and then died "fore he'd time to make another.
he went off awful sudden.
anyway, everything went to min's child -- to min as ye might say.
she's been boss.
rose still stayed on there and min let her, which was more than folks expected of her.
but she's turned her out at last.
min's in one of her tantrums now and "tai n't safe to cross her path."
""what is mrs. fuller to do?"
asked telford anxiously.
""that's the question.
she's sickly -- ca n't work much -- and then she has her leetle gal.
min was always jealous of that child.
it's a real purty, smart leetle creetur and old palmer made a lot of it.
min's own is an awful-looking thing -- a cripple from the time't was born.
there's no doubt't was a jedgement on her.
as for rose, no doubt the god of the widow and fatherless will purvide for her."
in spite of his disgust, telford could not repress a smile at the tone, half-whine, half-snuffle, with which galletly ended up.
""i think i had better call and see this mrs. palmer," he said slowly."
"twould be no airthly use, mr. telford.
min'd slam the door in your face if she did nothing worse.
she hates ministers and everything that's good.
she has n't darkened a church door for years.
she never had any religious tendency to begin with, and when there was such a scandal about her, old mr. dinwoodie, our pastor then -- a godly man, mr. telford -- he did n't hold no truck with evildoers -- he went right to her to reprove and rebuke her for her sins.
min, she flew at him.
she vowed then she'd never go to church again, and she never has.
people hereabouts has talked to her and tried to do her good, but it ai n't no use.
why, i've heard that woman say there was no god.
it's a fact, mr. telford -- i have.
some of our ministers has tried to visit her.
they did n't try it more than once.
the last one -- he was about your heft -- he got a scare, i tell you.
min just caught him by the shoulder and shook him like a rat!
did n't see it myself but mrs. rawlings did.
ye ought to hear her describin" of it."
galletly chuckled over the recollection, his wicked little eyes glistening with delight.
telford was thankful when they reached the store.
he felt that he could not endure this man's society any longer.
nevertheless, he felt strangely interested.
this min palmer must at least be different from the rest of the cornerites, if only in the greater force of her wickedness.
he almost felt as if her sins on the grand scale were less blameworthy than the petty vices of her censorious neighbours.
galletly eagerly joined the group of loungers on the dirty wet platform, and telford passed into the store.
a couple of slatternly women were talking to mrs. rykman about "the palmer row."
telford made his small purchases hastily.
as he turned from the counter, he came face to face with a woman who had paused in the doorway to survey the scene with an air of sullen scorn.
by some subtle intuition telford knew that this was min palmer.
the young man's first feeling was one of admiration for the woman before him, who, in spite of her grotesque attire and defiant, unwomanly air, was strikingly beautiful.
she was tall, and not even the man's ragged overcoat which she wore could conceal the grace of her figure.
her abundant black hair was twisted into a sagging knot at her neck, and from beneath the old fur cap looked out a pair of large and brilliant black eyes, heavily lashed, and full of a smouldering fire.
her skin was tanned and coarsened, but the warm crimson blood glowed in her cheeks with a dusky richness, and her face was a perfect oval, with features chiselled in almost classic regularity of outline.
telford had a curious experience at that moment.
he seemed to see, looking out from behind this external mask of degraded beauty, the semblance of what this woman might have been under more favouring circumstance of birth and environment, wherein her rich, passionate nature, potent for either good or evil, might have been trained and swayed aright until it had developed grandly out into the glorious womanhood the creator must have planned for her.
he knew, as if by revelation, that this woman had nothing in common with the narrow, self-righteous souls of rykman's corner.
warped and perverted though her nature might be, she was yet far nobler than those who sat in judgement upon her.
min made some scanty purchases and left the store quickly, brushing unheedingly past the minister as she did so.
he saw her step on a rough wood-sleigh and drive down the river road.
the platform loungers had been silent during her call, but now the talk bubbled forth anew.
telford was sick at heart as he drove swiftly away.
he felt for min palmer a pity he could not understand or analyze.
the attempt to measure the gulf between what she was and what she might have been hurt him like the stab of a knife.
he made several calls at various houses along the river during the forenoon.
after dinner he suddenly turned his horse towards the palmer place.
isaac galletly, comfortably curled up in a neighbour's chimney corner, saw him drive past.
""ef the minister ai n't goin" to palmers" after all!"
he chuckled.
""he's a set one when he does take a notion.
well, i warned him what to expect.
if min claws his eyes out, he'll only have himself to blame."
telford was not without his own misgivings as he drove into the palmer yard.
he tied his horse to the fence and looked doubtfully about him.
untrodden snowdrifts were heaped about the front door, so he turned towards the kitchen and walked slowly past the bare lilac trees along the fence.
there was no sign of life about the place.
it was beginning to snow again, softly and thickly, and the hills and river were hidden behind a misty white veil.
he lifted his hand to knock, but before he could do so, the door was flung open and min herself confronted him on the threshold.
she did not now have on the man's overcoat which she had worn at the store, and her neat, close-fitting home-spun dress revealed to perfection the full, magnificent curves of her figure.
her splendid hair was braided about her head in a glossy coronet, and her dark eyes were ablaze with ill-suppressed anger.
again telford was overcome by a sense of her wonderful loveliness.
not all the years of bondage to ill-temper and misguided will had been able to blot out the beauty of that proud, dark face.
she lifted one large but shapely brown hand and pointed to the gate.
""go!"
she said threateningly.
""mrs. palmer," began telford, but she silenced him with an imperious gesture.
""i do n't want any of your kind here.
i hate all you ministers.
did you come here to lecture me?
i suppose some of the corner saints set you on me.
you'll never cross my threshold."
telford returned her defiant gaze unflinchingly.
his dark-blue eyes, magnetic in their power and sweetness, looked gravely, questioningly, into min's stormy orbs.
slowly the fire and anger faded out of her face and her head drooped.
""i ai n't fit for you to talk to anyway," she said with a sort of sullen humility.
""maybe you mean well but you ca n't do me any good.
i'm past that now.
the corner saints say i'm possessed of the devil.
perhaps i am -- if there is one."
""i do mean well," said telford slowly.
""i did not come here to reprove you.
i came to help you if i could -- if you needed help, mrs. palmer --" "do n't call me that," she interrupted passionately.
she flung out her hands as if pushing some loathly, invisible thing from her.
""i hate the name -- as i hated all who ever bore it.
i never had anything but wrong and dog-usage from them all.
call me min -- that's the only name that belongs to me now.
go -- why do n't you go?
do n't stand there looking at me like that.
i'm not going to change my mind.
i do n't want any praying and whining round me.
i've been well sickened of that.
go!"
telford threw back his head and looked once more into her eyes.
a long look passed between them.
then he silently lifted his cap and, with no word of farewell, he turned and went down to the gate.
a bitter sense of defeat and disappointment filled his heart as he drove away.
min stood in the doorway and watched the sleigh out of sight down the river road.
then she gave a long, shivering sigh that was almost a moan.
""if i had met that man long ago," she said slowly, as if groping vaguely in some hitherto unsounded depth of consciousness, "i would never have become what i am.
i felt that as i looked at him -- it all came over me with an awful sickening feeling -- just as if we were standing alone somewhere out of the world where there was no need of words to say things.
he does n't despise me -- he would n't sneer at me, bad as i am, like those creatures up there.
he could have helped me if we had met in time, but it's too late now."
she locked her hands over her eyes and groaned, swaying her body to and fro as one in mortal agony.
presently she looked out again with hard, dry eyes.
""what a fool i am!"
she said bitterly.
""how the corner saints would stare if they saw me!
i suppose some of them do --" with a glance at the windows of a neighbouring house.
""yes, there's mrs. rawlings staring out and rose peeking over her shoulder."
her face hardened.
the old sway of evil passion reasserted itself.
""she shall never come back here -- never.
oh, she was a sweet-spoken cat of a thing -- but she had claws.
i've been blamed for all the trouble.
but if ever i had a chance, i'd tell that minister how she used to twit and taunt me in that sugary way of hers -- how she schemed and plotted against me as long as she could.
more fool i to care what he thinks either!
i wish i were dead.
if't was n't for the child, i'd go and drown myself at that black spring-hole down there -- i'd be well out of the way."
* * * * * it was a dull grey afternoon a week afterwards when allan telford again walked up the river road to the palmer place.
the wind was bitter and he walked with bent head to avoid its fury.
his face was pale and worn and he looked years older.
he paused at the rough gate and leaned over it while he scanned the house and its surroundings eagerly.
as he looked, the kitchen door opened and min, clad in the old overcoat, came out and walked swiftly across the yard.
telford's eyes followed her with pitiful absorption.
he saw her lead a horse from the stable and harness it into a wood-sleigh loaded with bags of grain.
once she paused to fling her arms about the animal's neck, laying her face against it with a caressing motion.
the pale minister groaned aloud.
he longed to snatch her forever from that hard, unwomanly toil and fold her safely away from jeers and scorn in the shelter of his love.
he knew it was madness -- he had told himself so every hour in which min's dark, rebellious face had haunted him -- yet none the less was he under its control.
min led the horse across the yard and left it standing before the kitchen door; she had not seen the bowed figure at the gate.
when she reappeared, he saw her dark eyes and the rose-red lustre of her face gleam out from under the old crimson shawl wrapped about her head.
as she caught the horse by the bridle, the kitchen door swung heavily to with a sharp, sudden bang.
the horse, a great, powerful, nervous brute, started wildly and then reared in terror.
the ice underfoot was glib and treacherous.
min lost her foothold and fell directly under the horse's hoofs as they came heavily down.
the animal, freed from her detaining hand, sprang forward, dragging the laden sleigh over the prostrate woman.
it had all passed in a moment.
the moveless figure lay where it had fallen, one outstretched hand still grasping the whip.
telford sprang over the gate and rushed up the slope like a madman.
he flung himself on his knees beside her.
""min!
min!"
he called wildly.
there was no answer.
he lifted her in his arms and staggered into the house with his burden, his heart stilling with a horrible fear as he laid her gently down on the old lounge in one corner of the kitchen.
the room was a large one and everything was neat and clean.
the fire burned brightly, and a few green plants were in blossom by the south window.
beside them sat a child of about seven years who turned a startled face at telford's reckless entrance.
the boy had min's dark eyes and perfectly chiselled features, refined by suffering into cameo-like delicacy, and the silken hair fell in soft, waving masses about the spiritual little face.
by his side nestled a tiny dog, with satin ears and paws fringed as with ravelled silk.
telford paid heed to nothing, not even the frightened child.
he was as one distraught.
""min," he wailed again, striving tremblingly to feel her pulse while cold drops came out on his forehead.
min's face was as pallid as marble, save for one heavy bruise across the cheek and a cruel cut at the edge of the dark hair, from which the blood trickled down on the pillow.
she opened her eyes wonderingly at his call, looking up with a dazed, appealing expression of pain and dread.
a low moan broke from her white lips.
telford sprang to his feet in a tumult of quivering joy.
""min, dear," he said gently, "you have been hurt -- not seriously, i hope.
i must leave you for a minute while i run for help -- i will not be long."
""come back," said min in a low but distinct tone.
he paused impatiently.
""it is of no use to get help," min went on calmly.
""i'm dying -- i know it.
oh, my god!"
she pressed her hand to her side and writhed.
telford turned desperately to the door.
min raised her arm.
""come here," she said resolutely.
he obeyed mutely.
she looked up at him with bright, unquailing eyes.
""do n't you go one step -- do n't leave me here to die alone.
i'm past help -- and i've something to say to you.
i must say it and i have n't much time."
telford hardly heeded her in his misery.
""min, let me go for help -- let me do something," he implored.
""you must not die -- you must not!"
min had fallen back, gasping, on the blood-stained pillow.
he knelt beside her and put his arm about the poor, crushed body.
""i must hurry," she said faintly.
""i ca n't die with it on my mind.
rose -- it's all hers -- all.
there was a will -- he made it -- old gra n'ther palmer.
he always hated me.
i found it before he died -- and read it.
he left everything to her -- not a cent to me nor his son's child -- we were to starve -- beg.
i was like a madwoman.
when he died -- i hid the will.
i meant -- to burn it -- but i never could.
it's tortured me -- night and day -- i've had no peace.
you'll find it in a box -- in my room.
tell her -- tell rose -- how wicked i've been.
and my boy -- what will become of him?
rose hates him -- she'll turn him out -- or ill-treat him --" telford lifted his white, drawn face.
""i will take your child, min.
he shall be to me as my own son."
an expression of unspeakable relief came into the dying woman's face.
""it is good -- of you.
i can die -- in peace -- now.
i'm glad to die -- to get clear of it all.
i'm tired -- of living so.
perhaps -- i'll have a chance -- somewhere else.
i've never -- had any -- here."
the dark eyes drooped -- closed.
telford moaned shudderingly.
once again min opened her eyes and looked straight into his.
""if i had met you -- long ago -- you would have -- loved me -- and i would have been -- a good woman.
it is well for us -- for you -- that i am -- dying.
your path will be clear -- you will be good and successful -- but you will always -- remember me."
telford bent and pressed his lips to min's pain-blanched mouth.
""do you think -- we will -- ever meet again?"
she said faintly.
""out there -- it's so dark -- god can never -- forgive me -- i've been so -- wicked."
""min, the all-loving father is more merciful than man.
he will forgive you, if you ask him, and you will wait for me till i come.
i will stay here and do my duty -- i will try hard --" his voice broke.
min's great black eyes beamed out on him with passionate tenderness.
the strong, deep, erring nature yielded at last.
an exceeding bitter cry rose to her lips.
""oh, god -- forgive me -- forgive me!"
and with the cry, the soul of poor suffering, sinning, sinned-against min palmer fled -- who shall say whither?
who shall say that her remorseful cry was not heard, even at that late hour, by a judge more merciful than her fellow creatures?
telford still knelt on the bare floor, holding in his arms the dead form of the woman he loved -- his, all his, in death, as she could never have been in life.
death had bridged the gulf between them.
the room was very silent.
to min's face had returned something of its girlhood's innocence.
the hard, unlovely lines were all smoothed out.
the little cripple crept timidly up to telford, with the silky head of the dog pressed against his cheek.
telford gathered the distorted little body to his side and looked earnestly into the small face -- min's face, purified and spiritualized.
he would have it near him always.
he bent and reverently kissed the cold face, the closed eyelids and the blood-stained brow of the dead woman.
then he stood up.
""come with me, dear," he said gently to the child.
* * * * * the day after the funeral, allan telford sat in the study of his little manse among the encircling wintry hills.
close to the window sat min's child, his small, beautiful face pressed against the panes, and the bright-eyed dog beside him.
telford was writing in his journal.
""i shall stay here -- close to her grave.
i shall see it every time i look from my study window -- every time i stand in my pulpit -- every time i go in and out among my people.
i begin to see wherein i have failed.
i shall begin again patiently and humbly.
i wrote today to decline the c -- church call.
my heart and my work are here."
he closed the book and bowed his head on it.
outside the snow fell softly; he knew that it was wrapping that new-made grave on the cold, fir-sentinelled hillside with a stainless shroud of infinite purity and peace.
miss cordelia's accommodation "poor little creatures!"
said miss cordelia compassionately.
she meant the factory children.
in her car ride from the school where she taught to the bridge that spanned the river between pottstown, the sooty little manufacturing village on one side, and point pleasant, which was merely a hamlet, on the other, she had seen dozens of them, playing and quarrelling on the streets or peering wistfully out of dingy tenement windows.
""tomorrow is saturday," she reflected, "and they've no better place to play in than the back streets and yards.
it's a shame.
there's work for our philanthropists here, but they do n't seem to see it.
well, i'm so sorry for them it hurts me to look at them, but i ca n't do anything."
miss cordelia sighed and then brightened up, because she realized that she was turning her back upon pottstown for two blissful days and going to point pleasant, which had just one straggling, elm-shaded street hedging on old-fashioned gardens and cosy little houses and trailing off into the real country in a half-hour's walk.
miss cordelia lived alone in a tiny house at point pleasant.
it was so tiny that you would have wondered how anyone could live in it.
""but it's plenty big for a little old maid like me," miss cordelia would have told you.
""and it's my own -- i'm queen there.
there's solid comfort in having one spot for your own self.
to be sure, if i had less land and more house it would be better."
miss cordelia always laughed here.
it was one of her jokes.
there was a four-acre field behind the house.
both had been left to her by an uncle.
the field was of no use to miss cordelia; she did n't keep a cow and she had n't time to make a garden.
but she liked her field; when people asked her why she did n't sell it she said: "i'm fond of it.
i like to walk around in it when the grass grows long.
and it may come in handy some time.
mother used to say if you kept anything seven years it would come to use.
i've had my field a good bit longer than that, but maybe the time will come yet.
meanwhile i rejoice in the fact that i am a landed proprietor to the extent of four acres."
miss cordelia had thought of converting her field into a playground for the factory children and asking detachments of them over on saturday afternoon.
but she knew that her point pleasant neighbours would object to this, so that project was dropped.
when miss cordelia pushed open her little gate, hung crookedly in a very compact and prim spruce hedge, she stopped in amazement and said, "well, for pity's sake!"
cynthia ann flemming, who lived on the other side of the spruce hedge, now came hurrying over.
""good evening, cordelia.
i have a letter that was left with me for you."
""but -- that -- horse," said miss cordelia, with a long breath between every word.
""where did he come from?
tied at my front door -- and he's eaten the tops off every one of my geraniums!
where's his owner or rider or something?"
the horse in question was a mild-eyed, rather good-looking quadruped, tied by a halter to the elm at miss cordelia's door and contentedly munching a mouthful of geranium stalks.
cynthia ann came through the hedge with the letter.
""maybe this will explain," she said.
""same boy brought it as brought the horse -- a little freckly chap mostly all grin and shirtsleeves.
said he was told to take the letter and horse to miss cordelia herry, elm street, point pleasant, and he could n't wait.
so he tied the creature in there and left the letter with me.
he came half an hour ago.
well, he has played havoc with your geraniums and no mistake."
miss cordelia opened and read her letter.
when she finished it she looked at the curious cynthia ann solemnly.
""well, if that is n't john drew all over!
i suspected he was at the bottom of it as soon as i laid my eyes on that animal.
john drew is a cousin of mine.
he's been living out at poplar valley and he writes me that he has gone out west, and wants me to take "old nap."
i suppose that is the horse.
he says that nap is getting old and not much use for work and he could n't bear the thought of shooting him or selling him to someone who might ill-treat him, so he wants me to take him and be kind to him for old times" sake.
john and i were just like brother and sister when we were children.
if this is n't like him nothing ever was.
he was always doing odd things and thinking they were all right.
and now he's off west and here is the horse.
if it were a cat or a dog -- but a horse!"
""your four-acre field will come in handy now," said cynthia ann jestingly.
""so it will."
miss cordelia spoke absently.
""the very thing!
yes, i'll put him in there."
""but you do n't really mean that you're going to keep the horse, are you?"
protested cynthia ann.
""why, he is no good to you -- and think of the expense of feeding him!"
""i'll keep him for a while," said miss cordelia briskly.
""as you say, there is the four-acre field.
it will keep him in eating for a while.
i always knew that field had a mission.
poor john drew!
i'd like to oblige him for old times" sake, as he says, although this is as crazy as anything he ever did.
but i have a plan.
meanwhile, i ca n't feed nap on geraniums."
miss cordelia always adapted herself quickly and calmly to new circumstances.
""it is never any use to get in a stew about things," she was wont to say.
so now she untied nap gingerly, with many rueful glances at her geraniums, and led him away to the field behind the house, where she tied him safely to a post with such an abundance of knots that there was small fear of his getting away.
when the mystified cynthia ann had returned home miss cordelia set about getting her tea and thinking over the plan that had come to her concerning her white elephant.
""i can keep him for the summer," she said.
""i'll have to dispose of him in the fall for i've no place to keep him in, and anyway i could n't afford to feed him.
i'll see if i can borrow mr. griggs's express wagon for saturday afternoons, and if i can those poor factory children in my grade shall have a weekly treat or my name is not cordelia herry.
i'm not so sure but that john drew has done a good thing after all.
poor john!
he always did take things so for granted."
* * * * * all the point pleasant people soon knew about miss cordelia's questionable windfall, and she was overwhelmed with advice and suggestions.
she listened to all tranquilly and then placidly followed her own way.
mr. griggs was very obliging in regard to his old express wagon, and the next saturday point pleasant was treated to a mild sensation -- nothing less than miss cordelia rattling through the village, enthroned on the high seat of mr. griggs's yellow express wagon, drawn by old nap who, after a week of browsing idleness in the four-acre field, was quite frisky and went at a decided amble down elm street and across the bridge.
the long wagon had been filled up with board seats, and when miss cordelia came back over the bridge the boards were crowded with factory children -- pale-faced little creatures whose eyes were aglow with pleasure at this unexpected outing.
miss cordelia drove straight out to the big pine-clad hills of deepdale, six miles from pottstown.
then she tied nap in a convenient lane and turned the children loose to revel in the woods and fields.
how they did enjoy themselves!
and how miss cordelia enjoyed seeing them enjoy themselves!
when dinner time came she gathered them all around her and went to the wagon.
in it she had a basket of bread and butter.
""i ca n't afford anything more," she told cynthia ann, "but they must have something to stay their little stomachs.
and i can get some water at a farmhouse."
miss cordelia had had her eye on a certain farmhouse all the morning.
she did not know anything about the people who lived there, but she liked the looks of the place.
it was a big, white, green-shuttered house, throned in wide-spreading orchards, with a green sweep of velvety lawn in front.
to this miss cordelia took her way, surrounded by her small passengers, and they all trooped into the great farmhouse yard just as a big man stepped out of a nearby barn.
as he approached, miss cordelia thought she had never seen anybody so much like an incarnate smile before.
smiles of all kinds seemed literally to riot over his ruddy face and in and out of his eyes and around the corners of his mouth.
""well, well, well!"
he said, when he came near enough to be heard.
""is this a runaway school, ma'am?"
""i'm the runaway schoolma'am," responded miss cordelia with a twinkle.
""and these are a lot of factory children i've brought out for a saturday treat.
i thought i might get some water from your well, and maybe you will lend us a tin dipper or two?"
""water?
tut, tut!"
said the big man, with three distinct smiles on his face.
""milk's the thing, ma'am -- milk.
i'll tell my housekeeper to bring some out.
and all of you come over to the lawn and make yourselves at home.
bless you, ma'am, i'm fond of children.
my name is smiles, ma'am -- abraham smiles."
""it suits you," said miss cordelia emphatically, before she thought, and then blushed rosy-red over her bluntness.
mr. smiles laughed.
""yes, i guess i always have an everlasting grin on.
had to live up to my name, you see, in spite of my naturally cantankerous disposition; but come this way, ma'am, i can see the hunger sticking out of those youngsters" eyes.
we'll have a sort of impromptu picnic here and now, i'll tell my housekeeper to send out some jam too."
while the children devoured their lunch miss cordelia found herself telling mr. smiles all about old nap and her little project.
""i'm going to bring out a load every fine saturday all summer," she said.
""it's all i can do.
they enjoy it so, the little creatures.
it's terrible to think how cramped their lives are.
they just exist in soot.
some of them here never saw green fields before today."
mr. smiles listened and beamed and twinkled until miss cordelia felt almost as dazzled as if she were looking at the sun.
""look here, ma'am, i like this plan of yours and i want to have a hand in helping it along.
bring your loads of children out here every saturday, right here to beechwood farm, and turn them loose in my beech woods and upland pastures.
i'll put up some swings for them and have some games, and i'll provide the refreshments also.
trouble, ma'am?
no, trouble and i ai n't on speaking terms.
it'll be a pleasure, ma'am.
i'm fond of children even if i am a grumpy cross-grained old bachelor.
if you can give up your own holiday to give them a good time, surely i can do something too."
when miss cordelia and her brood of tired, happy little lads and lasses ambled back to town in the golden dusk she felt that the expedition had been an emphatic success.
even old nap seemed to jog along eye-deep in satisfaction.
probably he was ruminating on the glorious afternoon he had spent in mr. smiles's clover pasture.
every fine saturday that summer miss cordelia took some of the factory children to the country.
the point pleasant people nicknamed her equipage "miss cordelia's accommodation," and it became a mild standing joke.
as for mr. smiles, he proved a valuable assistant.
like miss cordelia, he gave his saturdays over to the children, and high weekly revel was held at beechwood farm.
but when the big bronze and golden leaves began to fall in the beech woods, miss cordelia sorrowfully realized that the summer was over and that the weekly outings which she had enjoyed as much as the children must soon be discontinued.
""i feel so sorry," she told mr. smiles, "but it ca n't be helped.
it will soon be too cold for our jaunts and of course i ca n't keep nap through the winter.
i hate to part with him, i've grown so fond of him, but i must."
she looked regretfully at nap, who was nibbling mr. smiles's clover aftermath.
he was sleek and glossy.
it had been the golden summer of nap's life.
mr. smiles coughed in an embarrassed fashion.
miss cordelia looked at him and was amazed to see that not a smile was on or about his face.
he looked absurdly serious.
""i want to buy nap," he said in a sepulchral tone, "but that is not the only thing i want.
i want you too, ma'am.
i'm tired of being a cross old bachelor.
i think i'd like to be a cross old husband, for a change.
do you think you could put up with me in that capacity, miss cordelia, my dear?"
miss cordelia gave a half gasp and then she had to laugh.
""oh, mr. smiles, i'll agree to anything if you'll only smile again.
it seems unnatural to see you look so solemn."
the smiles at once broke loose and revelled over her wooer's face.
""then you will come?"
he said eagerly.
half an hour later they had their plans made.
at new year's miss cordelia was to leave her school and sooty pottstown and come to be mistress of beechwood farm.
""and look here," said mr. smiles.
""every fine saturday you shall have a big, roomy sleigh and nap, and drive into town for some children and bring them out here for their weekly treat as usual.
the house is large enough to hold them, goodness knows, and if it is n't there are the barns for the overflow.
this is going to be our particular pet charity all our lives, ma'am -- i mean cordelia, my dear."
""blessings on old nap," said miss cordelia with a happy light in her eyes.
""he shall live in clover for the rest of his days," added mr. smiles smilingly.
ned's stroke of business "jump in, ned; i can give you a lift if you're going my way."
mr. rogers reined up his prancing grey horse, and ned allen sprang lightly into the comfortable cutter.
the next minute they were flying down the long, glistening road, rosy-white in the sunset splendour.
the first snow of the season had come, and the sleighing was, as ned said, "dandy."
""going over to windsor, i suppose," said mr. rogers, with a glance at the skates that were hanging over ned's shoulder.
""yes, sir; all the carleton boys are going over tonight.
the moon is out, and the ice is good.
we have to go in a body, or the windsor fellows wo n't leave us alone.
there's safety in numbers."
""pretty hard lines when boys have to go six miles for a skate," commented mr. rogers.
""well, it's that or nothing," laughed ned.
""there is n't a saucerful of ice any nearer, except that small pond in old dutcher's field, behind his barn.
and you know old dutcher wo n't allow a boy to set foot there.
he says they would knock down his fences climbing over them, and like as not set fire to his barn."
""old dutcher was always a crank," said mr. rogers, "and doubtless will be to the end.
by the way, i heard a rumour to the effect that you are soon going to take a course at the business college in trenton.
i hope it's true."
ned's frank face clouded over.
""i'm afraid not, sir.
the truth is, i guess mother ca n't afford it.
of course, aunt ella has very kindly offered to board me free for the term, but fees, books, and so on would require at least fifty dollars.
i do n't expect to go."
""that's a pity.
ca n't you earn the necessary money yourself?"
ned shook his head.
""not much chance for that in carleton, mr. rogers.
i've cudgelled my brains for the past month trying to think of some way, but in vain.
well, here is the crossroad, so i must get off.
thank you for the drive, sir."
""keep on thinking, ned," advised mr. rogers, as the lad jumped out.
""perhaps you'll hit on some plan yet to earn that money, and if you do -- well, it will prove that you have good stuff in you."
""i think it would," laughed ned to himself, as he trudged away.
""a quiet little farming village in winter is n't exactly a promising field for financial operations."
at winterby corners ned found a crowd of boys waiting for him, and soon paired off with his chum, jim slocum.
jim, as usual, was grumbling because they had to go all the way to windsor to skate.
""like as not we'll get into a free fight with the windsorites when we get there, and be chevied off the ice," he complained.
the rivalry which existed between the carleton and the windsor boys was bitter and of long standing.
""we ought to be able to hold our own tonight," said ned.
""there'll be thirty of us there."
""if we could only get old dutcher to let us skate on his pond!"
said jim.
""it would n't hurt his old pond!
and the ice is always splendid on it.
i'd give a lot if we could only go there."
ned was silent.
a sudden idea had come to him.
he wondered if it were feasible.
""anyhow, i'll try it," he said to himself.
""i'll interview old dutcher tomorrow."
the skating that night was not particularly successful.
the small pond at windsor was crowded, the windsor boys being out in force and, although no positive disturbance arose, they contrived to make matters unpleasant for the carletonites, who tramped moodily homeward in no very good humour, most of them declaring that, skating or no skating, they would not go to windsor again.
the next day ned allen went down to see mr. dutcher, or old dutcher, as he was universally called in carleton.
ned did not exactly look forward to the interview with pleasure.
old dutcher was a crank -- there was no getting around that fact.
he had "good days" occasionally when, for him, he was fairly affable, but they were few and far between, and ned had no reason to hope that this would be one.
old dutcher was unmarried, and his widowed sister kept house for him.
this poor lady had a decidedly lonely life of it, for old dutcher studiously discouraged visitors.
his passion for solitude was surpassed only by his eagerness to make and save money.
although he was well-to-do, he would wrangle over a cent, and was the terror of all who had ever had dealings with him.
fortunately for ned and his project, this did turn out to be one of old dutcher's good days.
he had just concluded an advantageous bargain with a windsor cattle-dealer, and hence he received ned with what, for old dutcher, might be called absolute cordiality.
besides, although old dutcher disliked all boys on principle, he disliked ned less than the rest because the boy had always treated him respectfully and had never played any tricks on him on hallowe'en or april fool's day.
""i've come down to see you on a little matter of business, mr. dutcher," said ned, boldly and promptly.
it never did to beat about the bush with old dutcher; you had to come straight to the point.
""i want to know if you will rent your pond behind the barn to me for a skating-rink."
old dutcher's aspect was certainly not encouraging.
""no, i wo n't.
you ought to know that.
i never allow anyone to skate there.
i ai n't going to have a parcel of whooping, yelling youngsters tearing over my fences, disturbing my sleep at nights, and like as not setting fire to my barns.
no, sir!
i ai n't going to rent that pond for no skating-rink."
ned smothered a smile.
""just wait a moment, mr. dutcher," he said respectfully.
""i want you to hear my proposition before you refuse definitely.
first, i'll give you ten dollars for the rent of the pond; then i'll see that there will be no running over your fields and climbing your fences, no lighting of fire or matches about it, and no "whooping and yelling" at nights.
my rink will be open only from two to six in the afternoon and from seven to ten in the evening.
during that time i shall always be at the pond to keep everything in order.
the skaters will come and go by the lane leading from the barn to the road.
i think that if you agree to my proposition, mr. dutcher, you will not regret it."
""what's to prevent my running such a rink myself?"
asked old dutcher gruffly.
""it would n't pay you, mr. dutcher," answered ned promptly.
""the carleton boys would n't patronize a rink run by you."
old dutcher's eyes twinkled.
it did not displease him to know that the carleton boys hated him.
in fact, it seemed as if he rather liked it.
""besides," went on ned, "you could n't afford the time.
you could n't be on the pond for eight hours a day and until ten o'clock at night.
i can, as i've nothing else to do just now.
if i had, i would n't have to be trying to make money by a skating-rink."
old dutcher scowled.
ten dollars was ten dollars and, as ned had said, he knew very well that he could not run a rink by himself.
""well," he said, half reluctantly, "i suppose i'll let you go ahead.
only remember i'll hold you responsible if anything happens."
ned went home in high spirits.
by the next day he had placards out in conspicuous places -- on the schoolhouse, at the forge, at mr. rogers's store, and at winterby corners -- announcing that he had rented mr. dutcher's pond for a skating-rink, and that tickets for the same at twenty-five cents a week for each skater could be had upon application to him.
ned was not long left in doubt as to the success of his enterprise.
it was popular from the start.
there were about fifty boys in carleton and winterby, and they all patronized the rink freely.
at first ned had some trouble with two or three rowdies, who tried to evade his rules.
he was backed up, however, by old dutcher's reputation and by the public opinion of the other boys, as well as by his own undoubted muscle, and soon had everything going smoothly.
the rink flourished amain, and everybody, even old dutcher, was highly pleased.
at the end of the season ned paid old dutcher his ten dollars, and had plenty left to pay for books and tuition at the business college in trenton.
on the eve of his departure mr. rogers, who had kept a keen eye on ned's enterprise, again picked him up on the road.
""so you found a way after all, ned," he said genially.
""i had an idea you would.
my bookkeeper will be leaving me about the time you will be through at the college.
i will be wanting in his place a young man with a good nose for business, and i rather think that you will be that young man.
what do you say?"
""thank you, sir," stammered ned, scarcely believing his ears.
a position in mr. rogers's store meant good salary and promotion.
he had never dared to hope for such good fortune.
""if you -- think i can give satisfaction --" "you manipulated old dutcher, and you've earned enough in a very slow-going place to put you through your business-college term, so i am sure you are the man i'm looking for.
i believe in helping those who have "gumption" enough to help themselves, so we'll call it a bargain, ned."
our runaway kite of course there was nobody for us to play with on the big half moon, but then, as claude says, you ca n't have everything.
we just had to make the most of each other, and we did.
the big half moon is miles from anywhere, except the little half moon.
but nobody lives there, so that does n't count.
we live on the big half moon.
""we" are father and claude and i and aunt esther and mimi and dick.
it used to be only father and claude and i.
it is all on account of the kite that there are more of us.
this is what i want to tell you about.
father is the keeper of the big half moon lighthouse.
he has always been the keeper ever since i can remember, although that is n't very long.
i am only eleven years old.
claude is twelve.
in winter, when the harbour is frozen over, there is n't any need of a light on the big half moon, and we all move over to the mainland, and claude and mimi and dick and i go to school.
but as soon as spring comes, back we sail to our own dear island, so glad that we do n't know what to do with ourselves.
the funny part used to be that people always pitied us when the time came for us to return.
they said we must be so lonesome over there, with no other children near us, and not even a woman to look after us.
why, claude and i were never lonesome.
there was always so much to do, and claude is splendid at making believe.
he makes the very best pirate chief i ever saw.
dick is pretty good, but he can never roar out his orders in the bloodcurdling tones that claude can.
of course claude and i would have liked to have someone to play with us, because it is hard to run pirate caves and things like that with only two.
but we used to quarrel a good deal with the mainland children in winter, so perhaps it was just as well that there were none of them on the big half moon.
claude and i never quarrelled.
we used to argue sometimes and get excited, but that was as far as it ever went.
when i saw claude getting too excited i gave in to him.
he is a boy, you know, and they have to be humoured; they are not like girls.
as for having a woman to look after us, i thought that just too silly, and so did claude.
what did we need with a woman when we had father?
he could cook all we wanted to eat and make molasses taffy that was just like a dream.
he kept our clothes all mended, and everything about the lighthouse was neat as wax.
of course i helped him lots.
i like pottering round.
he used to hear our lessons and tell us splendid stories and saw that we always said our prayers.
claude and i would n't have done anything to make him feel bad for the world.
father is just lovely.
to be sure, he did n't seem to have any relations except us.
this used to puzzle claude and me.
everybody on the mainland had relations; why had n't we?
was it because we lived on an island?
we thought it would be so jolly to have an uncle and aunt and some cousins.
once we asked father about it, but he looked so sorrowful all of a sudden that we wished we had n't.
he said it was all his fault.
i did n't see how that could be, but i never said anything more about it to father.
still, i did wish we had some relations.
it is always lovely out here on the big half moon in summer.
when it is fine the harbour is blue and calm, with little winds and ripples purring over it, and the mainland shores look like long blue lands where fairies dwell.
away out over the bar, where the big ships go, it is always hazy and pearl-tinted, like the inside of the mussel shells.
claude says he is going to sail out there when he grows up.
i would like to too, but claude says i ca n't because i'm a girl.
it is dreadfully inconvenient to be a girl at times.
when it storms it is grand to see the great waves come crashing up against the big half moon as if they meant to swallow it right down.
you ca n't see the little half moon at all then; it is hidden by the mist and spume.
we had our pirate cave away up among the rocks, where we kept an old pistol with the lock broken, a rusty cutlass, a pair of knee boots, and claude's jute beard and wig.
down on the shore, around one of the horns of the half moon, was the mermaid's pool, where we sailed our toy boats and watched for sea kelpies.
we never saw any.
dick says there is no such thing as a kelpy.
but then dick has no imagination.
it is no argument against a thing that you've never seen it.
i have never seen the pyramids, either, but i know that there are pyramids.
every summer we had some hobby.
the last summer before dick and mimi came we were crazy about kites.
a winter boy on the mainland showed claude how to make them, and when we went back to the big half moon we made kites galore.
even pirating was n't such good fun.
claude would go around to the other side of the big half moon and we would play shipwrecked mariners signalling to each other with kites.
oh, it was very exciting.
we had one kite that was a dandy.
it was as big as we could make it and covered with lovely red paper; we had pasted gold tinsel stars all over it and written our names out in full on it -- claude martin leete and philippa brewster leete, big half moon lighthouse.
that kite had the most magnificent tail, too.
it used to scare the gulls nearly to death when we sent up our kites.
they did n't know what to make of them.
and the big half moon is such a place for gulls -- there are hundreds of them here.
one day there was a grand wind for kite-flying, and claude and i were having a splendid time.
we used our smaller kites for signalling, and when we got tired of that claude sent me to the house for the big one.
i'm sure i do n't know how it happened, but when i was coming back over the rocks i tripped and fell, and my elbow went clear through that lovely kite.
you would never have believed that one small elbow could make such a big hole.
claude said it was just like a girl to fall and stick her elbow through a kite, but i do n't see why it should be any more like a girl than a boy.
do you?
we had to hurry to fix the kite if we wanted to send it up before the wind fell, so we rushed into the lighthouse to get some paper.
we knew there was no more red paper, and the looks of the kite were spoiled, anyhow, so we just took the first thing that came handy -- an old letter that was lying on the bookcase in the sitting-room.
i suppose we should n't have taken it, although, as matters turned out, it was the best thing we could have done; but father was away to the mainland to buy things, and we never thought it could make any difference about an old yellow letter.
it was one father had taken from a drawer in the bookcase which he had cleaned out the night before.
we patched the kite up with the letter, a sheet on each side, and dried it by the fire.
then we started out, and up went the kite like a bird.
the wind was glorious, and it soared and strained like something alive.
all at once -- snap!
and there was claude, standing with a bit of cord in his hand, looking as foolish as a flatfish, and our kite sailing along at a fearful rate of speed over to the mainland.
i might have said to claude, so like a boy!
but i did n't.
instead, i sympathized with him, and pointed out that it really did n't matter because i had spoiled it by jabbing my elbow through it.
by this time the kite was out of sight, and we never expected to see or hear of it again.
* * * * * a month later a letter came to the big half moon for father.
jake wiggins brought it over in his sloop.
father went off by himself to read it, and such a queer-looking face as he had when he came back!
his eyes looked as if he had been crying, but that could n't be, i suppose, because claude says men never cry.
anyhow, his face was all glad and soft and smiley.
""do you two young pirates and freebooters want to know what has become of your kite?"
he said.
then he sat down beside us on the rocks at the mermaid's pool and told us the whole story, and read his letter to us.
it was the most amazing thing.
it seems father had had relations after all -- a brother and a sister in particular.
but when he was a young man he quarrelled with his brother, who did n't treat him very well -- but he's been dead for years, so i wo n't say a word against him -- and had gone away from home.
he never went back, and he never even let them know he was living.
father says that this was very wrong of him, and i suppose it was, since he says so; but i do n't see how father could do anything wrong.
anyway, he had a sister esther whom he loved very much; but he felt bitter against her too, because he thought she took his brother's part too much.
so, though a letter of hers, asking him to go back, did reach him, he never answered it, and he never heard anything more.
years afterward he felt sorry and went back, but his brother was dead and his sister had gone away, and he could n't find out a single thing about her.
so much for that; and now about the kite.
the letter father had just received was from his sister, our aunt esther and the mother of dick and mimi.
she was living at a place hundreds of miles inland.
her husband was dead and, as we found out later, although she did not say a word about it in the letter, she was very poor.
one day when dick and mimi were out in the woods looking for botany specimens they saw something funny in the top of a tree.
dick climbed up and got it.
it was a big red kite with a patch on each side and names written on it.
they carried it home to their mother.
dick has since told us that she turned as pale as the dead when she saw our names on it.
you see, philippa was her mother's name and claude was her father's.
and when she read the letter that was pasted over the hole in the kite she knew who we must be, for it was the very letter she had written to her brother so long ago.
so she sat right down and wrote again, and this was the letter jake wiggins brought to the big half moon.
it was a beautiful letter.
i loved aunt esther before i ever saw her, just from that letter.
next day father got jake to take his place for a few days, and he left claude and me over on the mainland while he went to see aunt esther.
when he came back he brought aunt esther and dick and mimi with him, and they have been here ever since.
you do n't know how splendid it is!
aunt esther is such a dear, and dick and mimi are too jolly for words.
they love the big half moon as well as claude and i do, and dick makes a perfectly elegant shipwrecked mariner.
but the best of it all is that we have relations now!
the bride roses miss corona awoke that june morning with a sigh, the cause of which she was at first too sleepy to understand.
then it all came over her with a little sickening rush; she had fallen asleep with tear-wet lashes the night before on account of it.
this was juliet gordon's wedding day, and she, miss corona, could not go to the wedding and was not even invited, all because of the quarrel, a generation old, and so chronic and bitter and terrible that it always presented itself to miss corona's mental vision as spelled with a capital.
well might miss corona hate it.
it had shut her up into a lonely life for long years.
juliet gordon and juliet's father, meredith gordon, were the only relations miss corona had in the world, and the old family feud divided them by a gulf which now seemed impassable.
miss corona turned over on her pillows, lifted one corner of the white window-blind and peeped out.
below her a river of early sunshine was flowing through the garden, and the far-away slopes were translucent green in their splendour of young day, with gauzy, uncertain mists lingering, spiritlike, in their intervales.
a bird, his sleek plumage iridescent in the sunlight, was perched on the big chestnut bough that ran squarely across the window, singing as if his heart would burst with melody and the joy of his tiny life.
no bride could have wished anything fairer for her day of days, and miss corona dropped back on her pillows with another gentle sigh.
""i'm so glad that the dear child has a fine day to be married," she said.
juliet gordon was always "dear child" to miss corona, although the two had never spoken to each other in their lives.
miss corona was a brisk and early riser as a rule, with a genuine horror of lazy people who lay late abed or took over-long to get their eyes well opened, but this morning she made no hurry about rising, even though scurrying footsteps, banging doors, and over-loud tinkling of dishes in the room below betokened that charlotta was already up and about.
and charlotta, as poor miss corona knew only too well, was fatally sure to do something unfortunate if she were not under some careful, overseeing eye.
to be sure, charlotta's intentions were always good.
but miss corona was not thinking about charlotta this morning, and she felt so strong a distaste for her lonely, purposeless life that she was in no haste to go forth to meet another day of it.
miss corona felt just the least little bit tired of living, although she feared it was very wicked of her to feel so.
she lay there listlessly for half an hour longer, looking through a mist of tears at the portrait of her stern old father hanging on the wall at the foot of the bed, and thinking over the quarrel.
it had happened thirty years ago, when miss corona had been a girl of twenty, living alone with her father at the old gordon homestead on the hill, with the big black spruce grove behind it on the north and far-reaching slopes of green fields before it on the south.
down in the little northern valley below the spruce grove lived her uncle, alexis gordon.
his son, meredith, had seemed to corona as her own brother.
the mothers of both were dead; neither had any other brother or sister.
the two children had grown up together, playmates and devoted friends.
there had never been any sentiment or lovemaking between them to mar a perfect comradeship.
they were only the best of friends, whatever plans the fathers might have cherished for the union of their estates and children, putting the property consideration first, as the gordons were always prone to do.
but, if roderick and alexis gordon had any such plans, all went by the board when they quarreled.
corona shivered yet over the bitterness of that time.
the gordons never did anything half-heartedly.
the strife between the two brothers was determined and irreconcilable.
corona's father forbade her to speak to her uncle and cousin or to hold any communication with them.
corona wept and obeyed him.
she had always obeyed her father; it had never entered into her mind to do anything else.
meredith had resented her attitude hotly, and from that day they had never spoken or met, while the years came and went, each making a little wider and more hopeless the gulf of coldness and anger and distrust.
ten years later roderick gordon died, and in five months alexis gordon followed him to the grave.
the two brothers who had hated each other so unyieldingly in life slept very peaceably side by side in the old gordon plot of the country graveyard, but their rancour still served to embitter the lives of their descendants.
corona, with a half-guilty sense of disloyalty to her father, hoped that she and meredith might now be friends again.
he was married, and had one little daughter.
in her new and intolerable loneliness corona's heart yearned after her own people.
but she was too timid to make any advances, and meredith never made any.
corona believed that he hated her, and let slip her last fluttering hope that the old breach would ever be healed.
""oh, dear!
oh, dear!"
she sobbed softly into her pillows.
it seemed a terrible thing to her that one of her race and kin was to be married and she could not be present at the ceremony, she who had never seen a gordon bride.
when miss corona went downstairs at last, she found charlotta sobbing in the kitchen porch.
the small handmaiden was doubled up on the floor, with her face muffled in her gingham apron and her long braids of red hair hanging with limp straightness down her back.
when charlotta was in good spirits, they always hung perkily over each shoulder, tied up with enormous bows of sky-blue ribbon.
""what have you done this time?"
asked miss corona, without the slightest intention of being humorous or sarcastic.
""i've -- i've bruk your green and yaller bowl," sniffed charlotta.
""did n't mean to, miss c'rona.
it jest slipped out so fashion "fore i c'd grab holt on it.
and it's bruk into forty millyun pieces.
ai n't i the onluckiest girl?"
""you certainly are," sighed miss corona.
at any other time she would have been filled with dismay over the untoward fate of her green and yellow bowl, which had belonged to her great-grandmother and had stood on the hall table to hold flowers as long as she could remember.
but just now her heart was so sore over the quarrel that there was no room for other regrets.
""well, well, crying wo n't mend it.
i suppose it is a judgment on me for staying abed so late.
go and sweep up the pieces, and do try and be a little more careful, charlotte."
""yes'm," said charlotta meekly.
she dared not resent being called charlotte just then.
""and i'll tell you what i'll do, ma'am, to make up, i'll go and weed the garden.
yes'm, i'll do it beautiful."
""and pull up more flowers than weeds," miss corona reflected mournfully.
but it did not matter; nothing mattered.
she saw charlotta sally forth into the garden with a determined, do-or-die expression surmounting her freckles, without feeling interest enough to go and make sure that she did not root out all the late asters in her tardy and wilfully postponed warfare on weeds.
this mood lasted until the afternoon.
then miss corona, whose heart and thoughts were still down in the festive house in the valley, roused herself enough to go out and see what charlotta was doing.
after finding out, she wandered idly about the rambling, old-fashioned place, which was full of nooks and surprises.
at every turn you might stumble on some clump or tangle of sweetness, showering elusive fragrance on the air, that you would never have suspected.
nothing in the garden was planted quite where it should be, yet withal it was the most delightful spot imaginable.
miss corona pushed her way into the cherry-tree copse, and followed a tiny, overgrown path to a sunshiny corner beyond.
she had not been there since last summer; the little path was getting almost impassable.
when she emerged from the cherry trees, somewhat rumpled and pulled about in hair and attire, but attended, as if by a benediction, by the aromatic breath of the mint she had trodden on, she gave a little cry and stood quite still, gazing at the rosebush that grew in the corner.
it was so large and woody that it seemed more like a tree than a bush, and it was snowed over with a splendour of large, pure white roses.
""dear life," whispered miss corona tremulously, as she tiptoed towards it.
""the bride roses have bloomed again!
how very strange!
why, there has not been a rose on that tree for twenty years."
the rosebush had been planted there by corona's great-grandmother, the lady of the green and yellow bowl.
it was a new variety, brought out from scotland by mary gordon, and it bore large white roses which three generations of gordon brides had worn on their wedding day.
it had come to be a family tradition among the gordons that no luck would attend the bride who did not carry a white rose from mary gordon's rose-tree.
long years ago the tree had given up blooming, nor could all the pruning and care given it coax a single blossom from it.
miss corona, tinctured with the superstition apt to wait on a lonely womanhood, believed in her heart that the rosebush had a secret sympathy with the fortunes of the gordon women.
she, the last of them on the old homestead, would never need the bride roses.
wherefore, then, should the old tree bloom?
and now, after all these years, it had flung all its long-hoarded sweetness into blossom again.
miss corona thrilled at the thought.
the rosebush had bloomed again for a gordon bride, but miss corona was sure there was another meaning in it too; she believed it foretokened some change in her own life, some rejuvenescence of love and beauty like to that of the ancient rose-tree.
she bent over its foam of loveliness almost reverently.
""they have bloomed for juliet's wedding," she murmured.
""a gordon bride must wear the bride roses, indeed she must.
and this -- why, it is almost a miracle."
she ran, light-footedly as a girl, to the house for scissors and a basket.
she would send juliet gordon the bride roses.
her cheeks were pink from excitement as she snipped them off.
how lovely they were!
how very large and fragrant!
it was as if all the grace and perfume and beauty and glory of those twenty lost summers were found here at once in them.
when miss corona had them ready, she went to the door and called, "charlotte!
charlotte!"
now charlotta, having atoned to her conscience for the destruction of the green and yellow bowl by faithfully weeding the garden, a task which she hated above all else, was singing a hymn among the sweet peas, and her red braids were over her shoulders.
this ought to have warned miss corona, but miss corona was thinking of other things, and kept on calling patiently, while charlotta weeded away for dear life, and seemed smitten with treble deafness.
after a time miss corona remembered and sighed.
she did hate to call the child that foolish name with its foreign sound.
just as if plain "charlotte" were not good enough for her, and much more suitable to "smith" too!
ordinarily miss corona would not have given in.
but the case was urgent; she could not stand upon her dignity just now.
""charlotta!"
she called entreatingly.
instantly charlotta flew to the garden gate and raced up to the door.
""yes'm," she said meekly.
""you want me, miss c'rona?"
""take this box down to miss juliet gordon, and ask that it be given to her at once," said miss corona, "do n't loiter, charlotta.
do n't stop to pick gum in the grove, or eat sours in the dike, or poke sticks through the bridge, or --" but charlotta had gone.
* * * * * down in the valley, the other gordon house was in a hum of excitement.
upstairs juliet had gone to her invalid mother's room to show herself in her wedding dress to the pale little lady lying on the sofa.
she was a tall, stately young girl with the dark grey gordon eyes and the pure creaminess of colouring, flawless as a lily petal.
her face was a very sweet one, and the simple white dress she wore became her dainty, flowerlike beauty as nothing elaborate could have done.
""i'm not going to put on my veil until the last moment," she said laughingly.
""i would feel married right away if i did.
and oh, mother dear, is n't it too bad?
my roses have n't come.
father is back from the station, and they were not there.
i am so disappointed.
romney ordered pure white roses because i said a gordon bride must carry nothing else.
come in" -- as a knock sounded at the door.
laura burton, juliet's cousin and bridesmaid, entered with a box.
""juliet dear, the funniest little red-headed girl with the most enormous freckles has just brought this for you.
i have n't an idea where she came from; she looked like a messenger from pixy-land."
juliet opened the box and gave a cry.
""oh, mother, look -- look!
what perfect roses!
who could have sent them?
oh, here's a note from -- from -- why, mother, it's from cousin corona."
""my dear child," ran the letter in miss corona's fine, old-fashioned script.
""i am sending you the gordon bride roses.
the rose-tree has bloomed for the first time in twenty years, my dear, and it must surely be in honour of your wedding day.
i hope you will wear them for, although i have never known you, i love you very much.
i was once a dear friend of your father's.
tell him to let you wear the roses i send for old times" sake.
i wish you every happiness, my dear.
""your affectionate cousin, "corona gordon."
""oh, how sweet and lovely of her!"
said juliet gently, as she laid the letter down.
""and to think she was not even invited!
i wanted to send her an invitation, but father said it would be better not to -- she was so hard and bitter against us that she would probably regard it as an insult."
""he must have been mistaken about her attitude," said mrs. gordon.
""it certainly is a great pity she was not invited, but it is too late now.
an invitation sent two hours before the ceremony would be an insult indeed."
""not if the bride herself took it!"
exclaimed juliet impulsively.
""i'll go myself to cousin corona, and ask her to come to my wedding."
""go yourself!
child, you ca n't do such a thing!
in that dress..." "go i must, momsie.
why, it's only a three minutes" walk.
i'll go up the hill by the old field-path, and no one will see me.
oh, do n't say a word -- there, i'm gone!"
""that child!"
sighed the mother protestingly, as she heard juliet's flying feet on the stairs.
""what a thing for a bride to do!"
juliet, with her white silken skirts caught up above grasses and dust, ran light-footedly through the green lowland fields and up the hill, treading for the first time the faint old field-path between the two homes, so long disused that it was now barely visible in its fringing grasses and star-dust of buttercups.
where it ran into the spruce grove was a tiny gate which miss corona had always kept in good repair, albeit it was never used.
juliet pushed up the rusty hasp and ran through.
miss corona was sitting alone in her shadowy parlour, hanging over a few of the bride roses with falling tears, when something tall and beautiful and white, came in like a blessing and knelt by her chair.
""cousin corona," said a somewhat breathless bride, "i have come to thank you for your roses and ask you to forgive us all for the old quarrel."
""dear child," said miss corona out of her amazement, "there is nothing to forgive.
i've loved you all and longed for you.
dear child, you have brought me great happiness."
""and you must come to my wedding," cried juliet.
""oh, you must -- or i shall think you have not really forgiven us.
you would never refuse the request of a bride, cousin corona.
we are queens on our wedding day, you know."
""oh, it's not that, dear child -- but i'm not dressed -- i --" "i'll help you dress.
and i wo n't go back without you.
the guests and the minister must wait if necessary -- yes, even romney must wait.
oh, i want you to meet romney.
come, dear."
and miss corona went.
charlotta and the bride got her into her grey silk and did her hair, and in a very short time she and juliet were hurrying down the old field-path.
in the hollow meredith gordon met them.
""cousin meredith," said miss corona tremulously.
""dear corona."
he took both her hands in his, and kissed her heartily.
""forgive me for misunderstanding you so long.
i thought you hated us all."
turning to juliet, he said with a fatherly smile, "what a terrible girl it is for having its own way!
who ever heard of a gordon bride doing such an unconventional thing?
there, scamper off to the house before your guests come.
laura has made your roses up into what she calls" a dream of a bouquet," i'll take cousin corona up more leisurely."
""oh, i knew that something beautiful was going to happen when the old rose-tree bloomed," murmured miss corona happily.
the josephs" christmas the month before christmas was always the most exciting and mysterious time in the joseph household.
such scheming and planning, such putting of curly heads together in corners, such counting of small hoards, such hiding and smuggling of things out of sight, as went on among the little josephs!
there were a good many of them, and very few of the pennies; hence the reason for so much contriving and consulting.
from fourteen-year-old mollie down to four-year-old lennie there were eight small josephs in all in the little log house on the prairie; so that when each little joseph wanted to give a christmas box to each of the other little josephs, and something to father and mother joseph besides, it is no wonder that they had to cudgel their small brains for ways and means thereof.
father and mother were always discreetly blind and silent through december.
no questions were asked no matter what queer things were done.
many secret trips to the little store at the railway station two miles away were ignored, and no little joseph was called to account because he or she looked terribly guilty when somebody suddenly came into the room.
the air was simply charged with secrets.
sister mollie was the grand repository of these; all the little josephs came to her for advice and assistance.
it was mollie who for troubled small brothers and sisters did such sums in division as this: how can i get a ten-cent present for emmy and a fifteen-cent one for jimmy out of eighteen cents?
or, how can seven sticks of candy be divided among eight people so that each shall have one?
it was mollie who advised regarding the purchase of ribbon and crepe paper.
it was mollie who put the finishing touches to most of the little gifts.
in short, all through december mollie was weighed down under an avalanche of responsibility.
it speaks volumes for her sagacity and skill that she never got things mixed up or made any such terrible mistake as letting one little joseph find out what another was going to give him.
""dead" secrecy was the keystone of all plans and confidences.
during this particular december the planning and contriving had been more difficult and the results less satisfactory than usual.
the josephs were poor at any time, but this winter they were poorer than ever.
the crops had failed in the summer, and as a consequence the family were, as jimmy said, "on short commons."
but they made the brave best of their small resources, and on christmas eve every little joseph went to bed with a clear conscience, for was there not on the corner table in the kitchen a small mountain of tiny -- sometimes very tiny -- gifts labelled with the names of recipients and givers, and worth their weight in gold if love and good wishes count for anything?
it was beginning to snow when the small small josephs went to bed, and when the big small josephs climbed the stairs it was snowing thickly.
mr. and mrs. joseph sat before the fire and listened to the wind howling about the house.
""i'm glad i'm not driving over the prairie tonight," said mr. joseph.
""it's quite a storm.
i hope it will be fine tomorrow, for the children's sake.
they've set their hearts on having a sleigh ride, and it will be too bad if they ca n't have it when it's about all the christmas they'll have this year.
mary, this is the first christmas since we came west that we could n't afford some little extras for them, even if't was only a box of nuts and candy."
mrs. joseph sighed over jimmy's worn jacket which she was mending.
then she smiled.
""never mind, john.
things will be better next christmas, we'll hope.
the children will not mind, bless their hearts.
look at all the little knick-knacks they've made for each other.
last week when i was over at taunton, mr. fisher had his store all gayified up," as jim says, with christmas presents.
i did feel that i'd ask nothing better than to go in and buy all the lovely things i wanted, just for once, and give them to the children tomorrow morning.
they've never had anything really nice for christmas.
but there!
we've all got each other and good health and spirits, and a christmas would n't be much without those if we had all the presents in the world."
mr. joseph nodded.
""that's so.
i do n't want to grumble; but i tell you i did want to get maggie a "real live doll," as she calls it.
she never has had anything but homemade dolls, and that small heart of hers is set on a real one.
there was one at fisher's store today -- a big beauty with real hair, and eyes that opened and shut.
just fancy maggie's face if she saw such a christmas box as that tomorrow morning."
""do n't let's fancy it," laughed mrs. joseph, "it is only aggravating.
talking of candy reminds me that i made a big plateful of taffy for the children today.
it's all the "christmassy" i could give them.
i'll get it out and put it on the table along with the children's presents.
that ca n't be someone at the door!"
""it is, though," said mr. joseph as he strode to the door and flung it open.
two snowed-up figures were standing on the porch.
as they stepped in, the josephs recognized one of them as mr. ralston, a wealthy merchant in a small town fifteen miles away.
""late hour for callers, is n't it?"
said mr. ralston.
""the fact is, our horse has about given out, and the storm is so bad that we ca n't proceed.
this is my wife, and we are on our way to spend christmas with my brother's family at lindsay.
can you take us in for the night, mr. joseph?"
""certainly, and welcome!"
exclaimed mr. joseph heartily, "if you do n't mind a shakedown by the kitchen fire for the night.
my, mrs. ralston," as his wife helped her off with her things, "but you are snowed up!
i'll see to putting your horse away, mr. ralston.
this way, if you please."
when the two men came stamping into the house again mrs. ralston and mrs. joseph were sitting at the fire, the former with a steaming hot cup of tea in her hand.
mr. ralston put the big basket he was carrying down on a bench in the corner.
""thought i'd better bring our christmas flummery in," he said.
""you see, mrs. joseph, my brother has a big family, so we are taking them a lot of santa claus stuff.
mrs. ralston packed this basket, and goodness knows what she put in it, but she half cleaned out my store.
the eyes of the lindsay youngsters will dance tomorrow -- that is, if we ever get there."
mrs. joseph gave a little sigh in spite of herself, and looked wistfully at the heap of gifts on the corner table.
how meagre and small they did look, to be sure, beside that bulgy basket with its cover suggestively tied down.
mrs. ralston looked too.
""santa claus seems to have visited you already," she said with a smile.
the josephs laughed.
""our santa claus is somewhat out of pocket this year," said mr. joseph frankly.
""those are the little things the small folks here have made for each other.
they've been a month at it, and i'm always kind of relieved when christmas is over and there are no more mysterious doings.
we're in such cramped quarters here that you ca n't move without stepping on somebody's secret."
a shakedown was spread in the kitchen for the unexpected guests, and presently the ralstons found themselves alone.
mrs. ralston went over to the christmas table and looked at the little gifts half tenderly and half pityingly.
""they're not much like the contents of our basket, are they?"
she said, as she touched the calendar jimmie had made for mollie out of cardboard and autumn leaves and grasses.
""just what i was thinking," returned her husband, "and i was thinking of something else, too.
i've a notion that i'd like to see some of the things in our basket right here on this table."
""i'd like to see them all," said mrs. ralston promptly.
""let's just leave them here, edward.
roger's family will have plenty of presents without them, and for that matter we can send them ours when we go back home."
""just as you say," agreed mr. ralston.
""i like the idea of giving the small folk of this household a rousing good christmas for once.
they're poor i know, and i dare say pretty well pinched this year like most of the farmers hereabout after the crop failure."
mrs. ralston untied the cover of the big basket.
then the two of them, moving as stealthily as if engaged in a burglary, transferred the contents to the table.
mr. ralston got out a small pencil and a note book, and by dint of comparing the names attached to the gifts on the table they managed to divide theirs up pretty evenly among the little josephs.
when all was done mrs. ralston said, "now, i'm going to spread that tablecloth carelessly over the table.
we will be going before daylight, probably, and in the hurry of getting off i hope that mr. and mrs. joseph will not notice the difference till we're gone."
it fell out as mrs. ralston had planned.
the dawn broke fine and clear over a vast white world.
mr. and mrs. joseph were early astir; breakfast for the storm-stayed travellers was cooked and eaten by lamplight; then the horse and sleigh were brought to the door and mr. ralston carried out his empty basket.
""i expect the trail will be heavy," he said, "but i guess we'd get to lindsay in time for dinner, anyway.
much obliged for your kindness, mr. joseph.
when you and mrs. joseph come to town we shall hope to have a chance to return it.
good-bye and a merry christmas to you all."
when mrs. joseph went back to the kitchen her eyes fell on the heaped-up table in the corner.
""why-y!"
she said, and snatched off the cover.
one look she gave, and then this funny little mother began to cry; but they were happy tears.
mr. joseph came too, and looked and whistled.
there really seemed to be everything on that table that the hearts of children could desire -- three pairs of skates, a fur cap and collar, a dainty workbasket, half a dozen gleaming new books, a writing desk, a roll of stuff that looked like a new dress, a pair of fur-topped kid gloves just mollie's size, and a china cup and saucer.
all these were to be seen at the first glance; and in one corner of the table was a big box filled with candies and nuts and raisins, and in the other a doll with curling golden hair and brown eyes, dressed in "real" clothes and with all her wardrobe in a trunk beside her.
pinned to her dress was a leaf from mr. ralston's notebook with maggie's name written on it.
""well, this is christmas with a vengeance," said mr. joseph.
""the children will go wild with delight," said his wife happily.
they pretty nearly did when they all came scrambling down the stairs a little later.
such a christmas had never been known in the joseph household before.
maggie clasped her doll with shining eyes, mollie looked at the workbasket that her housewifely little heart had always longed for, studious jimmy beamed over the books, and ted and hal whooped with delight over the skates.
and as for the big box of good things, why, everybody appreciated that.
that christmas was one to date from in that family.
i'm glad to be able to say, too, that even in the heyday of their delight and surprise over their wonderful presents, the little josephs did not forget to appreciate the gifts they had prepared for each other.
mollie thought her calendar just too pretty for anything, and jimmy was sure the new red mittens which maggie had knitted for him with her own chubby wee fingers, were the very nicest, gayest mittens a boy had ever worn.
mrs. joseph's taffy was eaten too.
not a scrap of it was left.
as ted said loyally, "it was just as good as the candy in the box and had more "chew" to it besides."
the magical bond of the sea a late september wind from the northwest was sweeping over the waters of racicot harbour.
it blew in, strong with the tang of the salt seas, past the grim lighthouse rock on the one hand and the sandbars on the other, up the long, narrow funnel of darkly blue water, until it whistled among the masts of the boats at anchor and among the stovepipe chimneys of the fishing village.
it was a wind that sang and piped and keened of many things -- but what it sang to each listener was only what was in that listener's heart.
and nora shelley, standing at the door of her father's bleached cottage on the grey sands, heard a new strain in it.
the wind had sung often to her of the outer world she longed for, but there had never been the note of fulfilment in it before.
there's a new life beyond, nora, whistled the wind.
a good life -- and it's yours for the taking.
you have but to put out your hand and all you've wished for will be in your grasp.
nora leaned out from the door to meet the wind.
she loved that northwest gale; it was a staunch old friend of hers.
very slim and straight was nora, with a skin as white as the foam flakes crisping over the sands, and eyes of the tremulous, haunting blue that deepens on the water after a fair sunset.
but her hair was as black as midnight, and her lips blossomed out with a ripe redness against the uncoloured purity of her face.
she was far and away the most beautiful of the harbour girls, but hardly the most popular.
men and women alike thought her proud.
even her friends felt themselves called upon to make excuses for her unlikeness to themselves.
nora had dosed the door behind her to shut in the voices.
she wanted to be alone with the wind while she made her decision.
before her the sandy shingle, made firm by a straggling growth of some pale sea-ivy, sloped down to the sapphire cup of the harbour.
around her were the small, uncouth houses of the village -- no smaller or more uncouth than the one which was her home -- with children playing noisily on the paths between them.
the mackerel boats curtsied and nodded outside; beyond them the sharp tip of sandy point was curdled white with seagulls.
down at the curve of the cove a group of men were laughing and talking loudly in front of french joe's fish-house.
this was the life that she had always known.
across the harbour, on a fir-fringed headland, stood dalveigh.
john cameron, childless millionaire, had built a summer cottage on that point two years ago, and given it the name of the old ancestral estate in scotland.
to the racicot fishing folk the house and grounds were as a dream of enchantment made real.
few of them had ever seen anything like it.
nora shelley knew dalveigh well.
she had been the camerons" guest many times that summer, finding in the luxury and beauty of their surroundings something that entered with a strange aptness into her own nature.
it was as if it were hers by right of fitness.
and this was the life that might be hers, did she so choose.
in reality, her choice was already made, and she knew it.
but it pleased her to pretend for a little time that it was not, and to dally tenderly with-the old loves and emotions that tugged at her heart and clamoured to be remembered.
within, in the low-ceilinged living room, with its worn, uneven floor and its blackened walls hung with fish nets and oilskins, four people were sitting.
john cameron and his wife were given the seats of honour in the middle of the room.
mrs. cameron was a handsome, well-dressed woman, with an expression that was discontented and, at times, petulant.
yet her face had a good deal of plain common sense in it, and not even the most critical of the racicot folks could say that she "put on airs."
her husband was a small, white-haired man, with a fresh, young-looking face.
he was popular in racicot, for he mingled freely with the sailors and fishermen.
moreover, dalveigh was an excellent market for fresh mackerel.
nathan shelley, in his favourite corner behind the stove, sat lurching forward with his hands on his knees.
he had laid aside his pipe out of deference to mrs. cameron, and it was hard for him to think without it.
he wished his wife would go to work; it seemed uncanny to see her idle.
she had sat idle only once that he remembered -- the day they had brought ned shelley in, dank and dripping, after the august storm ten years before.
mrs. shelley sat by the crooked, small-paned window and looked out down the harbour.
the coat she had been patching for her husband when the camerons came still lay in her lap, and she had folded her hands upon it.
she was a big woman, slow of speech and manner, with a placid, handsome face -- a face that had not visibly stirred even when she had heard the camerons" proposition.
they wanted nora -- these rich people who had so much in life wanted the blossom of girlhood that had never bloomed for them.
john cameron pleaded his cause well.
""we will look on her as our own," he said at last.
""we have grown to love her this summer.
she is beautiful and clever -- she has a right to more than racicot can give her.
you have other children -- we are childless.
and we do not take her from you utterly.
you will see her every summer when we come to dalveigh."
""it wo n't be the same thing quite," said nathan shelley drily.
""she'll belong to your life then -- not ours.
and no matter how many young ones folks has, they do n't want to lose none of'em.
but i dunno as we ought to let our feelings stand in nora's light.
she's clever, and she's been hankering for more'n we can ever give her.
i was the same way once.
lord, how i raged at racicot!
i broke away finally -- went to a city and got work.
but it was n't no use.
i'd left it too long.
the sea had got into my blood.
i toughed it out for two years, and then i had to come back.
i did n't want to, mark you, but i had to come.
been here ever since.
but maybe "twill be different with the girl.
she's younger than i was; if the hankering for the sea and the life of the shore has n't got into her too deep, maybe she'll be able to cut loose for good.
but you do n't know how the sea calls to one of its own."
cameron smiled.
he thought that this dry old salt was a bit of a poet in his own way.
very likely nora got her ability and originality from him.
there did not seem to be a great deal in the phlegmatic, good-looking mother.
""what say, wife?"
asked shelley at last.
his wife had said in her slow way, "leave it to nora," and to nora it was left.
when she came in at last, her face stung to radiant beauty by the northwest wind, she found it hard to tell them after all.
she looked at her mother appealingly.
""is it go or stay, girl," demanded her father brusquely.
""i think i'll go," said nora slowly.
then, catching sight of her mother's face, she ran to her and flung her arms about her.
""but i'll never forget you, mother," she cried.
""i'll love you always -- you and father."
her mother loosened the clinging arms and pushed her gently towards the camerons.
""go to them," she said calmly.
""you belong to them now."
the news spread quickly over racicot.
before night everyone on the harbour shore knew that the camerons were going to adopt nora shelley and take her away with them.
there was much surprise and more envy.
the shore women tossed their heads.
""reckon nora is in great feather," they said.
""she always did think herself better than anyone else.
nate shelley and his wife spoiled her ridiculous.
wonder what rob fletcher thinks of it?"
nora asked her brother to tell the news to rob fletcher himself, but merran andrews was before him.
she was at rob before he had fairly landed, when the fishing boats came in at sunset.
""have you heard the news, rob?
nora's going away to be a fine lady.
the camerons have been daft about her all summer, and now they are going to adopt her."
merran wanted rob herself.
he was a big, handsome fellow, and well-off -- the pick of the harbour men in every way.
he had slighted her for nora, and it pleased her to stab him now, though she meant to be nice to him later on.
he turned white under his tan, but he did not choose to make a book of his heart for merran's bold black eyes to read.
""it's a great thing for her," he answered calmly.
""she was meant for better things than can be found at racicot."
""she was always too good for common folks, if that is what you mean," said merran spitefully.
nora and rob did not meet until the next evening, when she rowed herself home from dalveigh.
he was at the shore to tie up her boat and help her out.
they walked up the sands together in the heart of the autumn sunset, with the northwest wind whistling in their ears and the great star of the lighthouse gleaming wanly out against the golden sky.
nora felt uncomfortable, and resented it.
rob fletcher was nothing to her; he never had been anything but the good friend to whom she told her strange thoughts and longings.
why should her heart ache over him?
she wished he would talk, but he strode along in silence, with his fine head drooping a little.
""i suppose you have heard that i am going away, rob?"
she said at last.
he nodded.
""yes, i've heard it from a hundred mouths, more or less," he answered, not looking at her.
""it's a splendid thing for me, is n't it?"
dared nora.
""well, i do n't know," he said slowly.
""looking at it from the outside, it seems so.
but from the inside it may n't look the same.
do you think you'll be able to cut twenty years of a life out of your heart without any pain?"
""oh, i'll be homesick, if that is what you mean," said nora petulantly.
""of course i'll be that at first.
i expect it -- but people get over that.
and it is not as if i were going away for good.
i'll be back next summer -- every summer."
""it'll be different," said rob stubbornly, thinking as old nathan shelley had thought.
""you'll be a fine lady -- oh, all the better for that perhaps -- but you'll not be the same.
no, no, the new life will change you; not all at once, maybe, but in the end.
you'll be one of them, not one of us.
but will you be happy?
that's the question i'm asking."
in anyone else nora would have resented this.
but she never felt angry with rob.
""i think i shall be," she said thoughtfully.
""and, anyway, i must go.
it does n't seem as if i could help myself if i wanted to.
something -- out beyond there -- is calling me, always has been calling me ever since i was a tiny girl and found out there was a big world far away from racicot.
and it always seemed to me that i would find a way to it some day.
that was why i kept going to school long after the other girls stopped.
mother thought i'd better stop home; she said too much book learning would make me discontented and too different from the people i had to live along.
but father let me go; he understood; he said i was like him when he was young.
i learned everything and read everything i could.
it seems to me as if i had been walking along a narrow pathway all my life.
and now it seems as if a gate were opened before me and i can pass through into a wider world.
it is n't the luxury and the pleasure or the fine house and dresses that tempt me, though the people here think so -- even mother thinks so.
but it is not.
it's just that something seems to be in my grasp that i've always longed for, and i must go -- rob, i must go."
""yes, if you feel like that you must go," he answered, looking down at her troubled face gently.
""and it's best for you to go, nora.
i believe that, and i'm not so selfish as not to be able to hope that you'll find all you long for.
but it will change you all the more if it is so.
nora!
nora!
whatever am i going to do without you!"
the sudden passion bursting out in his tone frightened her.
""do n't, rob, do n't!
and you wo n't miss me long.
there's many another."
""no, there is n't.
do n't fling me that dry bone of comfort.
there's no other, and never has been any other -- none but you, nora, and well you know it."
""i'm sorry," she said faintly.
""you need n't be," said rob grimly.
""after all, i'd rather love you than not, hurt as it will.
i never had much hope of getting you to listen to me, so there's no great disappointment there.
you're too good for me -- i've always known that.
a girl that is fit to mate with the camerons is far above rob fletcher, fisherman."
""i never had such a thought," protested nora.
""i know it," he said, casing himself up in his quietness again.
""but it's so -- and now i've got to lose you.
but there'll never be any other for me, nora."
he left her at her father's door.
she watched his stalwart figure out of sight around the point, and raged to find tears in her eyes and a bitter yearning in her heart.
for a moment she repented -- she would stay -- she could not go.
then over the harbour flashed out the lights of dalveigh.
the life behind them glittered, allured, beckoned.
nay, she must go on -- she had made her choice.
there was no turning back now.
* * * * * nora shelley went away with the camerons, and dalveigh was deserted.
winter came down on racicot harbour, and the colony of fisher folk at its head gave themselves over to the idleness of the season -- a time for lounging and gossipping and long hours of lazy contentment smoking in the neighbours" chimney corners, when tales were told of the sea and the fishing.
the harbour laid itself out to be sociable in winter.
there was no time for that in summer.
people had to work eighteen hours out of the twenty-four then.
in the winter there was spare time to laugh and quarrel, woo and wed and -- were a man so minded -- dream, as did rob fletcher in his loneliness.
in a racicot winter much was made of small things.
the arrival of nora shelley's weekly letter to her father and mother was an event in the village.
the post-mistress in the cove store spread the news that it had come, and that night the shelley kitchen would be crowded.
isobel shelley, nora's younger sister, read the letter aloud by virtue of having gone to school long enough to be able to pronounce the words and tell where the places named were situated.
the camerons had spent the autumn in new york and had then gone south for the winter.
nora wrote freely of her new life.
in the beginning she admitted great homesickness, but after the first few letters she made no further mention of that.
she wrote little of herself, but she described fully the places she had visited, the people she had met, the wonderful things she had seen.
she sent affectionate messages to all her old friends and asked after all her old interests.
but the letters came to be more and more like those of a stranger and one apart from the racicot life, and the father and mother felt it.
""she's changing," muttered old nathan.
""it had to be so -- it's well for her that it is so -- but it hurts.
she ai n't ours any more.
we've lost the girl, wife, lost her forever."
rob fletcher always came and listened to the letters in silence while the others buzzed and commented.
rob, so the harbour folk said, was much changed.
he had grown unsociable and preferred to stay home and read books rather than go a-visiting as did others.
the harbour folk shook their heads over this.
there was something wrong with a man who read books when there was a plenty of other amusements.
jacob radnor had read books all one winter and had drowned himself in the spring -- jumped overboard from his dory at the herring nets.
and that was what came of books, mark you.
the camerons came later to dalveigh the next summer, on account of john cameron's health, which was not good.
it was the first of august before a host of servants came to put dalveigh in habitable order, and a week later the family came.
they brought a houseful of guests with them.
at sunset on the day of her arrival nora shelley looked out cross the harbour to the fishing village.
she was tired after her journey, and she had not meant to go over until the morning, but now she knew she must go at once.
her mother was over there; the old life called to her; the northwest wind swept up the channel and whistled alluringly to her at the window of her luxurious room.
it brought to her the tang of the salt wastes and filled her heart with a great, bitter-sweet yearning.
she was more beautiful than ever.
in the year that had passed she had blossomed out to a gracious fulfilment of womanhood.
even the camerons had wondered at her swift adaptation to her new surroundings.
she seemed to have put racicot behind her as one puts by an old garment.
in everything she had held her own royally.
her adopted parents were proud of her beauty and her nameless, untamed charm.
they had lavished every indulgence upon her.
in those few short months she had lived more keenly and fully than in all her life before.
the nora shelley who went away was not, so it would seem, the nora shelley who came back.
but when she looked from her window to the waves and saw the star of the lighthouse and the blaze of the sunset in the window of the fishing-houses and heard the summons of the wind, something broke loose in her soul and overwhelmed her, like a wave of the sea.
she must go at once -- at once -- at once.
not a moment could she wait.
she was dressed for dinner, but with tingling fingers she threw off her costly gown and put on her dark travelling suit again.
she left her hair as it was and knotted a crimson scarf about her head.
she would slip away quietly to the boathouse, get davy to launch the little sailboat for her -- and then for a fleet skim over the harbour before that glorious wind!
she hoped not to be seen, but mrs. cameron met her in the hall.
""nora!"
she said in astonishment.
""oh, i must go, aunty!
i must go!"
the girl cried feverishly.
she was afraid mrs. cameron would try to prevent her going, and all at once she knew that she could not bear that.
""must go?
where?
dinner is almost ready, and --" "oh, i do n't want any dinner.
i'm going home -- i will sail over."
""my dear child, do n't be foolish.
it's too late to go over the harbour tonight.
they wo n't be expecting you.
wait until the morning."
""no -- oh, you do n't understand.
i must go -- i must!
my mother is over there."
something in the girl's last sentence or the tone in which it was uttered brought a look of pain to mrs. cameron's face.
but she made no further attempt to dissuade her.
""well, if you must.
but you can not go alone -- no, nora, i can not allow it.
the wind is too high and it is too late for you to go over by yourself.
clark bryant will take you."
nora would have protested but she knew it would be in vain.
she submitted somewhat sullenly and walked down to the shore in silence.
clark bryant strode beside her, humouring her mood.
he was a tall, stout man, with an ugly, clever, sarcastic face.
he was as clever as he looked, and was one of the younger millionaires whom john cameron drew around him in the development of his huge financial schemes.
bryant was in love with nora.
this was why the camerons had asked him to join their august house party at dalveigh, and why he had accepted.
it had occurred to nora that this was the case, but as yet she had never troubled to think the situation over seriously.
she liked clark bryant well enough, but just at the moment he was in the way.
she did not want to take him over to racicot -- just why she could not have explained.
there was in her no snobbish shame of her humble home.
but he did not belong there; he was an alien, and she wished to go back to it for the first time alone.
at the boathouse davy launched the small sailboat and nora took the tiller.
she knew every inch of the harbour.
as the sail filled before the wind and the boat sprang across the upcurling waves, her brief sullenness fell away from her.
she no longer resented clark bryant's presence -- she forgot it.
he was no more to her than the mast by which he stood.
the spell of the sea and the wind surged into her heart and filled it with wild happiness and measureless content.
over yonder, where the lights gleamed on the darkening shore under the high-sprung arch of pale golden sky, was home.
how the wind whistled to welcome her back!
the lash of it against her face -- the flick of salt spray on her lips -- the swing of the boat as it cut through the racing crests -- how glorious it all was!
clark bryant watched her, understanding all at once that he was nothing to her, that he had no part or lot in her heart.
he was as one forgotten and left behind.
and how lovely, how desirable she was!
he had never seen her look so beautiful.
the shawl had slipped down to her shoulders and her head rose out of it like some magnificent flower out of a crimson calyx.
the masses of her black hair lifted from her face in the rush of the wind and swayed back again like rich shadows.
her lips were stung scarlet with the sea's sharp caresses, and her eyes, large and splendid, looked past him unseeing to the harbour lights of racicot.
when they swung in by the wharf nora sprang from the boat before bryant had time to moor it.
pausing for an instant, she called down to him, carelessly, "do n't wait for me.
i shall not go back tonight."
then she caught her shawl around her head and almost ran up the wharf and along the shore.
no one was abroad, for it was supper hour in racicot.
in the shelley kitchen the family was gathered around the table, when the door was flung open and nora stood on the threshold.
for a moment they gazed at her as at an apparition.
they had not known the precise day of her coming and were not aware of the camerons" arrival at dalveigh.
""it's the girl herself.
it's nora," said old nathan, rising from his bench.
""mother!"
cried nora.
she ran across the room and buried her face in her mother's breast, sobbing.
when the news spread, the racicot people crowded in to see nora until the house was full.
they spent a noisy, merry, whole-hearted evening of the old sort.
the men smoked and most of the women knitted while they talked.
they were pleased to find that nora did not put on any airs.
old jonas myers bluntly told her that he did n't see as her year among rich folks had done her much good, after all.
""you're just the same as when you went away," he said.
""they have n't made a fine lady of you.
folks here thought you'd be something wonderful."
nora laughed.
she was glad that they did not find her changed.
old nathan chuckled in his dry way.
there was a difference in the girl, and he saw it, though the neighbours did not, but it was not the difference he had feared.
his daughter was not utterly taken from him yet.
nora sat by her mother and was happy.
but as the evening wore away she grew very quiet, and watched the door with something piteous in her eyes.
old nathan noticed it and thought she was tired.
he gave the curious neighbours a good-natured hint, and they presently withdrew.
when they had all gone nora went out to the door alone.
the wind had died down and the shore, gemmed with its twinkling lights, was very still, for it was too late an hour for racicot folk to be abroad in the mackerel season.
the moon was rising and the harbour was a tossing expanse of silver waves.
the mellow light fell on a tall figure lurking at the angle of the road that led past the shelley cottage.
nora saw and recognized it.
she flew down the sandy slope with outstretched hands.
""rob -- rob!"
""nora!"
he said huskily, holding out his hand.
but she flung herself on his breast and clung to him, half laughing, half crying.
""oh, rob!
i've been looking for you all the evening.
every time there was a step i said to myself, "that is rob, now."
and when the door opened to let in another, my heart died within me.
i dared not even ask after you for fear of what they might tell me.
why did n't you come?"
""i did n't know that i'd be welcome," he whispered, holding her closer to him.
""i've been hanging about thinking to get a glimpse of you unbeknown.
i thought maybe you would n't want to see me tonight."
""not want to see you!
oh, rob, this evening at dalveigh, when i looked across to racicot, it was you i thought of before all -- even before mother."
she drew back and looked at him with her soul in her eyes.
""what a splendid fellow you are -- how handsome you are, rob!"
she cried.
all the reserve of womanhood fell away from her in the inrush of emotions.
for the moment she was a child again, telling out her thoughts with all a child's frankness.
""i've been in a dream this past year -- a lovely dream -- a fair dream, but only a dream, after all.
and now i've wakened.
and you are part of the wakening -- the best part!
oh, to think i never knew before!"
""knew what, my girl?"
he had her close against his heart now; the breath of her lips mingled with his, but he would not kiss her yet.
""that i loved you," she whispered back.
""oh, rob, you are all the world to me.
i belong to you and the sea.
but i never knew it until i crossed the harbour tonight.
then i knew -- it came to me all at once, like a flood of understanding.
i knew i could never go away again -- that i must stay here forever where i could hear that call of wind and waves.
the new life was good -- good -- but it could not go deep enough.
and when you did not come i knew what was in my heart for you as well."
* * * * * that night nora lay beside her sisters in the tiny room that looked out on the harbour.
the younger girls slept soundly, but nora kept awake to listen to the laughter of the wind outside, and con over what she and rob had said to each other.
there was no blot on her happiness save a sorry wonder what the camerons would say when they knew.
""they will think me ungrateful and fickle," she sighed.
""they do n't know that i ca n't help it even if i would.
they will never understand."
nor did they.
when nora told them that she was going back to racicot, they laughed at her kindly at first, treating it as the passing whim of a homesick girl.
later, when they came to understand that she meant it, they were grieved and angry.
there were scenes of pleading and tears and reproaches.
nora cried bitterly in mrs. cameron's arms, but stood rock-firm.
she could never go back to them -- never.
they appealed to nathan shelley finally, but he refused to say anything.
""it ca n't be altered," he told them.
""the sea has called her and she'll listen to naught else.
i'm sorry enough for the girl's own sake.
it would have been better for her if she could have cut loose from it all and lived your life, i dare say.
but you've made a fair trial and it's of no use.
i know what's in her heart -- it was in mine once -- and i'll say no word of rebuke to her.
she's free to go or stay as she chooses -- just as free as she was last year."
mrs. cameron made one more appeal to nora.
she told the girl bitterly that she was ungrateful.
""i'm not that," said nora with quivering lips.
""i love you, and i'm grateful to you.
but your life is n't for me, after all.
i thought it was -- i longed so for it.
and i loved it, too -- i love it yet.
but there's something stronger in me that holds me here."
""i do n't think you realize what you are doing, nora.
you have been a little homesick and you are glad to be back.
but after we have gone and you must settle into the old racicot life again, you will not be contented.
you will find that your life with us will have unfitted you for this.
there will be no real place for you here -- nothing for you to do.
you will be as a stranger here."
""oh, no.
i am going to marry rob fletcher," said nora proudly.
""marry rob fletcher!
and you might have married clark bryant, nora!"
nora shook her head.
""that could never have been.
i thought it might once -- but i know better now.
you see, i love rob."
there did not seem to be anything more to say after that.
mrs. cameron did not try to say anything.
she went away in sorrow.
nora cried bitterly after she had gone.
but there were no tears in her eyes that night when she walked on the shore with rob fletcher.
the wind whistled around them, and the stars came out in the great ebony dome of the sky over the harbour.
laughter and song of the fishing folk were behind them, and the deep, solemn call of the sea before.
over the harbour gleamed the score of lights at dalveigh.
rob looked from them to nora.
""do you think you'll ever regret yon life, my girl?"
""never, rob.
it seems to me now like a beautiful garment put on for a holiday and worn easily and pleasantly for a time.
but i've put it off now, and put on workaday clothes again.
it is only a week since i left dalveigh, but it seems long ago.
listen to the wind, rob!
it is singing of the good days to be for you and me."
he bent over and kissed her.
""my own dear lass!"
he said softly.
the martyrdom of estella estella was waiting under the poplars at the gate for spencer morgan.
she was engaged to him, and he always came to see her on saturday and wednesday evenings.
it was after sunset, and the air was mellow and warm-hued.
the willow trees along the walk and the tall birches in the background stood out darkly distinct against the lemon-tinted sky.
the breath of mint floated out from the garden, and the dew was falling heavily.
estella leaned against the gate, listening for the sound of wheels and dreamily watching the light shining out from the window of vivienne lemar's room.
the blind was up and she could see miss lemar writing at her table.
her profile was clear and distinct against the lamplight.
estella reflected without the least envy that miss lemar was very beautiful.
she had never seen anyone who was really beautiful before -- beautiful with the loveliness of the heroines in the novels she sometimes read or the pictures she had seen.
estella bowes was not pretty.
she was a nice-looking girl, with clear eyes, rosy cheeks, and a pervading air of the content and happiness her life had always known.
she was an orphan and lived with her uncle and aunt.
in the summer they sometimes took a boarder for a month or two, and this summer miss lemar had come.
she had been with them about a week.
she was an actress from the city and had around her all the glamour of a strange, unknown life.
nothing was known about her.
the boweses liked her well enough as a boarder.
estella admired and held her in awe.
she wondered what spencer would think of this beautiful woman.
he had not yet seen her.
it was quite dark when he came.
estella opened the gate for him, but he got out of his buggy and walked up the lane beside her with his arm about her.
miss lemar's light had removed to the parlour where she was singing, accompanying herself on the cottage organ.
estella felt annoyed.
the parlour was considered her private domain on wednesday and saturday night, but miss lemar did not know that.
""who is singing?"
asked spencer.
""what a voice she has!"
""that's our new boarder, miss lemar," answered estella.
""she's an actress and sings and does everything.
she is awfully pretty, spencer."
""yes?"
said the young man indifferently.
he was not in the least interested in the boweses" new boarder.
indeed, he considered her advent a nuisance.
he pressed estella closer to him, and when they reached the garden gate he kissed her.
estella always remembered that moment afterwards.
she was so supremely happy.
spencer went off to put up his horse, and estella waited for him on the porch steps, wondering if any other girl in the world could be quite so happy as she was, or love anyone as much as she loved spencer.
she did not see how it could be possible, because there was only one spencer.
when spencer came back she took him into the parlour, half shyly, half proudly.
he was a handsome fellow, with a magnificent physique.
miss lemar stopped singing and turned around on the organ stool as they entered.
the little room was flooded with a mellow light from the pink-globed lamp on the table, and in the soft, shadowy radiance she was as beautiful as a dream.
she wore a dress of crepe, cut low in the neck.
estella had never seen anyone dressed so before.
to her it seemed immodest.
she introduced spencer.
he bowed awkwardly and sat stiffly down by the window with his eyes riveted on miss lemar's face.
estella, catching a glimpse of herself in the old-fashioned mirror above the mantel, suddenly felt a cold chill of dissatisfaction.
her figure had never seemed to her so stout and stiff, her brown hair so dull and prim, her complexion so muddy, her features so commonplace.
she wished miss lemar would go out of the room.
vivienne lemar watched the two faces before her; a hard gleam, half mockery, half malice, flashed into her eyes and a smile crept about her lips.
she looked straight in spencer morgan's honest blue eyes and read there the young man's dazzled admiration.
there was contempt in the look she turned on estella.
""you were singing when we came in," said spencer.
""wo n't you go on, please?
i am very fond of music."
miss lemar turned again to the organ.
the gleaming curves of her neck and shoulders rose out of their filmy sheathings of lace.
spencer, sitting where he could see her face with its rose-leaf bloom and the ringlets of golden hair clustering about it, gazed at her, unheeding of aught else.
estella saw his look.
she suddenly began to hate the black-eyed witch at the organ -- and to fear her as well.
why did spencer look at her like that?
she wished she had not brought him in at all.
she felt commonplace and angry, and wanted to cry.
vivienne lemar went on singing, drifting from one sweet love song into another.
once she looked up at spencer morgan.
he rose quickly and went to her side, looking down at her with a strange fire in his eyes.
estella got up abruptly and left the room.
she was angry and jealous, but she thought spencer would follow her.
when he did not, she could not believe it.
she waited on the porch for him, not knowing whether she were more angry or miserable.
she would not go back into the room.
vivienne lemar had stopped singing.
she could hear a low murmur of voices.
when she had waited there an hour, she went in and upstairs to her room with ostentatious footsteps.
she was too angry to cry or to realize what had happened, and still kept hoping all sorts of impossible things as she sat by her window.
it was ten o'clock when spencer went away and vivienne lemar passed up the hall to her room.
estella clenched her hands in an access of helpless rage.
she was very angry, but under her fury was a horrible ache of pain.
it could not be only three hours since she had been so happy!
it must be more than that!
what had happened?
had she made a fool of herself?
ought she to have behaved in any other way?
perhaps spencer had come out to look for her after she had gone upstairs and, not finding her, had gone back to miss lemar to show her he was angry.
this poor hope was a small comfort.
she wished she had not acted as she had.
it looked spiteful and jealous, and spencer did not like people who were spiteful and jealous.
she would show him she was sorry when he came back, and it would be all right.
she lay awake most of the night, thinking out plausible reasons and excuses for spencer's behaviour, and trying to convince herself that she had exaggerated everything absurdly.
towards morning she fell asleep and awoke hardly remembering what had happened.
then it rolled back upon her crushingly.
but she rose and dressed in better spirits.
it had been hardest to lie there and do nothing.
now the day was before her and something pleasant might happen.
spencer might come back in the evening.
she would be doubly nice to him to make up.
mrs. bowes looked sharply at her niece's dull eyes and pale cheeks at the breakfast table.
she had her own thoughts of things.
she was a large, handsome woman with a rather harsh face.
""did you go upstairs last night and leave spencer morgan with miss lemar?"
she asked bluntly.
""yes," muttered estella.
""did you have a quarrel with him?"
""no."
""what made you act so queer?"
""i could n't help it," faltered the girl.
the food she was eating seemed to choke her.
she wished she were a hundred miles away from everyone she ever knew.
mrs. bowes gave a grunt of dissatisfaction.
""well, i think it is a pretty queer piece of business.
but if you are satisfied, it is n't anyone else's concern, i suppose.
he stayed with her till ten o'clock and when he left she did everything but kiss him -- and she asked him to come back too.
i heard."
""aunt!"
protested the girl.
she felt as if her aunt were striking her blow after blow on a sensitive, quivering spot.
it was bad enough to know it all, but to hear it put into such cold, brutal words was more than she could endure.
it seemed to make everything so horribly sure.
""i guess i had a right to listen, had n't i, with such goings on in my own house?
you're a little fool, estella bowes!
i do n't believe that lemar girl is a bit better than she ought to be.
i wish i'd never taken her to board, and if you say so, i'll send her packing right off and not give her a chance to make mischief atween folks."
estella's suffering found vent in a burst of anger.
""you need n't do anything of the sort!"
she cried.
""it's all nonsense about spencer -- it was my fault -- and anyhow, if he is so easily led away as that, i am sure i do n't want him!
i wish to goodness, aunt, you'd leave me alone!"
""oh, very well!"
returned mrs. bowes in an offended tone.
""it was for your own good i spoke.
you know best, i suppose.
if you do n't care, i do n't know that anyone else need."
estella went about her work like one in a dream.
a great hatred had sprung up in her heart against vivienne lemar.
the simple-hearted country girl felt almost murderous.
the whole day seemed like a nightmare to her.
when night came she dressed herself with feverish care, for she could not quell the hope that spencer would surely come again.
but he did not; and when she went up to bed, it did not seem as if she could live through the night.
she lay staring wide-eyed through the darkness until dawn.
she wished that she might cry, but no tears came to her relief.
next day she went to work with furious energy.
when her usual tasks were done, she ransacked the house for other employment.
she was afraid if she stopped work for a moment she would go mad.
mrs. bowes watched her with a grim pity.
at night she walked to prayer meeting in the schoolhouse a mile away.
she always went, and spencer was generally on hand to see her home.
he was not there tonight.
she wished she had not come.
it was dreadful to have to sit still and think.
she did not hear a word the minister said.
she had to walk home with a crowd of girls and nerve herself to answer their merry sallies that no one might suspect.
she was tortured by the fear that everyone knew her shame and humiliation and was pitying her.
she got hysterically gay, but underneath all she was constantly trying to assign a satisfactory reason for spencer's nonappearance.
he was often kept away, and of course he was a little cross at her yet, as was natural.
if he had come before her then, she could have gone down in the very dust at his feet and implored his forgiveness.
when she reached home she went into the garden and sat down.
the calm of the night soothed her.
she felt happier and more hopeful.
she thought over all that had passed between her and spencer and all his loving assurances, and the recollection comforted her.
she was almost happy when she went in.
tomorrow is sunday, she thought when she wakened in the morning.
her step was lighter and her face brighter.
mrs. bowes seemed to be in a bad humour.
presently she said bluntly: "do you know that spencer morgan was here last night?"
estella felt the cold tighten round her heart.
yet underneath it sprang up a wild, sweet hope.
""spencer here!
i suppose he forgot it was prayer meeting night.
what did he say?
why did n't you tell him where i was?"
""i do n't know that he forgot it was prayer meeting night," returned mrs. bowes with measured emphasis."
't is n't likely his memory has failed so all at once.
he did n't ask where you was.
he took good care to go before you got home too.
miss lemar entertained him.
i guess she was quite capable of it."
estella bent over her dishes in silence.
her face was deadly white.
""i'll send her away," said mrs. bowes pityingly.
""when she's gone, spencer will soon come back to you."
""no, you wo n't!"
said estella fiercely.
""if you do, she'll only go over to barstows", and it would be worse than ever.
i do n't care -- i'll show them both i do n't care!
as for spencer coming back to me, do you think i want her leavings?
he's welcome to go."
""he's only just fooled by her pretty face," persisted mrs. bowes in a clumsy effort at consolation.
""she's just turning his head, the hussy, and he is n't really in his proper senses.
you'll see, he'll be ashamed of himself when he comes to them again.
he knows very well in his heart that you're worth ten girls like her."
estella faced around.
""aunt," she said desperately, "you mean well, i know, but you're killing me!
i ca n't stand it.
for pity's sake, do n't say another word to me about this, no matter what happens.
and do n't keep looking at me as if i were a martyr!
she watches us and it would please her to think i cared.
i do n't -- and i mean she shall see i do n't.
i guess i'm well rid of a fellow as fickle as he is, and i've sense enough to know it."
she went upstairs then, tearing off her turquoise engagement ring as she climbed the steps.
all sorts of wild ideas flashed through her head.
she would go down and confront vivienne lemar -- she would rush off and find spencer and throw his ring at him, no matter where he was -- she would go away where no one would ever see her again.
why could n't she die?
was it possible people could suffer like this and yet go on living?
""i do n't care -- i do n't care!"
she moaned, telling the lie aloud to herself, as if she hoped that by this means she would come to believe it.
when twilight came she went out to the front steps and leaned her aching head against the honeysuckle trellis.
the sun had just set and the whole world swam in dusky golden light.
the wonderful beauty frightened her.
she felt like a blot on it.
while she stood there, a buggy came driving up the lane and wheeled about at the steps.
in it was spencer morgan.
estella saw him and, in spite of the maddening throb of hope that seemed suddenly to transfigure the world for her, her pride rose in arms.
had spencer come the night before, he would have found her loving and humble.
even now, had she but been sure that he had come to see her, she would have unbent.
but was it the other?
the torturing doubt stung her to the quick.
she waited, stubbornly resolved that she would not speak first.
it was not in her place.
spencer morgan flicked his horse sharply with his whip.
he dared not look at estella, but he felt her uncompromising attitude.
he was miserably ashamed of himself, and he felt angry at estella for his shame.
""do you care to come for a drive?"
he asked awkwardly, with a covert glance at the parlour windows.
estella caught the glance and her jealous perception instantly divined its true significance.
her heart died within her.
she did not care what she said.
""oh," she cried with a toss of her head, "it's not me you want -- it's miss lemar, is n't it?
she's away at the shore.
you'll find her there, i dare say."
still, in spite of all, she perversely hoped.
if he would only make any sign, the least in the world, that he was sorry -- that he still loved her -- she could forgive him everything.
when he drove away without another word, she could not believe it again.
surely he would not go -- surely he knew she did not mean it -- he would turn back before he got to the gate.
but he did not.
she saw him disappear around the turn of the road.
she could not see if he took the shore lane further on, but she was sure he would.
she was furious at herself for acting as she had done.
it was all her fault again!
oh, if he would only give her another chance!
she was in her room when she heard the buggy drive up again.
she knew it was spencer and that he had brought vivienne lemar home.
acting on a sudden wild impulse, the girl stepped out on the landing and confronted her rival as she came up the stairs.
the latter paused at sight of the white face and anguished eyes.
there was a little mocking smile on her lovely face.
""miss lemar," said estella in a quivering voice, "what do you mean by all this?
you know i'm engaged to spencer morgan!"
miss lemar laughed softly.
""really?
if you are engaged to the young man, my dear miss bowes, i would advise you to look after him more sharply.
he seems very willing to flirt, i should say."
she passed on to her room with a malicious smile.
estella shrank back against the wall, humiliated and baffled.
when she found herself alone, she crawled back to her room and threw herself face downward on the bed, praying that she might die.
but she had to live through the horrible month that followed -- a month so full of agony that she seemed to draw every breath in pain.
spencer never sought her again; he went everywhere with miss lemar.
his infatuation was the talk of the settlement.
estella knew that her story was in everyone's mouth, and her pride smarted; but she carried a brave front outwardly.
no one should say she cared.
she believed that the actress was merely deluding spencer for her own amusement and would never dream of marrying him.
but one day the idea occurred to her that she might.
estella had always told herself that even if spencer wanted to come back to her she would never take him back, but now, by the half-sick horror that came over her, she knew how strong the hope had really been and despised herself more than ever.
one evening she was alone in the parlour.
she had lit the lamp and was listlessly arranging the little room.
she looked old and worn.
her colour was gone and her eyes were dull.
as she worked, the door opened and vivienne lemar walked or, rather, reeled into the room.
estella dropped the book she held and gazed at her as one in a dream.
the actress's face was flushed and her hair was wildly disordered.
her eyes glittered with an unearthly light.
she was talking incoherently.
the air was heavy with the fumes of brandy.
estella laughed hysterically.
vivienne lemar was grossly intoxicated.
this woman whom spencer morgan worshipped, for whom he had forsaken her, was reeling about the room, laughing idiotically, talking wildly in a thick voice.
if he could but see her now!
estella turned white with the passion of the wild idea that had come to her.
spencer morgan should see this woman in her true colours.
she lost no time.
swiftly she left the room and locked the door behind her on the maudlin, babbling creature inside.
then she flung a shawl over her head and ran from the house.
it was not far to the morgan homestead.
she ran all the way, hardly knowing what she was doing.
mrs. morgan answered her knock.
she gazed in bewilderment at estella's wild face.
""i want spencer," said the girl through her white lips.
the elder woman stepped back in dumb amazement.
she knew and rued her son's folly.
what could estella want with him?
the young man appeared in the doorway.
estella caught him by the arm and pulled him outside.
""miss lemar wants you at once," she said hoarsely.
""at once -- you are to come at once!"
""has anything happened to her?"
cried spencer savagely.
""is she ill -- is she -- what is the matter?"
""no, she is not ill.
but she wants you.
come at once."
he started off bareheaded.
estella followed him up the road breathlessly.
surely it was the strangest walk ever a girl had, she told herself with mirthless laughter.
she pushed the key into his hand at the porch.
""she's in the parlour," she said wildly.
""go in and look at her, spencer."
spencer snatched the key and fitted it into the door.
he was full of fear.
had estella gone out of her mind?
had she done anything to vivienne?
had she -- as he entered, the actress reeled to her feet and came to meet him.
he stood and gazed at her stupidly.
this could not be vivienne, this creature reeking with brandy, uttering such foolish words!
what fiend was this in her likeness?
he grew sick at heart and brain; she had her arms about him.
he tried to push her away, but she clung closer, and her senseless laughter echoed through the room.
he flung her from him with an effort and rushed out through the hall and down the road like a madman.
estella, watching him, felt that she was avenged.
she was glad with a joy more pitiful than grief.
vivienne lemar left the cottage the next day.
mrs. bowes, suspecting some mystery, questioned estella sharply, but could find out nothing.
the girl kept her own counsel stubbornly.
the interest and curiosity of the village centred around spencer morgan, and his case was well discussed.
gossip said that the actress had jilted him and that he was breaking his heart about it.
then came the rumour that he was going west.
estella heard it apathetically.
life seemed ended for her.
there was nothing to look forward to.
she could not even look back.
all the past was embittered.
she had never met spencer since the night she went after him.
she sometimes wondered what he must think of her for what she had done.
did he think her unwomanly and revengeful?
she did not care.
it was rather a relief to hear that he was going away.
she would not be tortured by the fear of meeting him then.
she was sure he would never come back to her.
if he did, she would never forgive him.
one evening in early harvest estella was lingering by the lane gate at twilight.
she had worked slavishly all day and was very tired, but she was loath to go into the house, where her trouble always seemed to weigh on her more heavily.
the dusk, sweet night seemed to soothe her as it always did.
she leaned her head against the poplar by the gate.
how long spencer morgan had been standing by her she did not know, but when she looked up he was there.
in the dim light she could see how haggard and hollow-eyed he had grown.
he had changed almost as much as herself.
the girl's first proud impulse was to turn coldly away and leave him.
but some strange tumult in her heart kept her still.
what had he come to say?
there was a moment's fateful silence.
then spencer spoke in a muffled voice.
""i could n't go away without seeing you once more, estella, to say good-bye.
perhaps you wo n't speak to me.
you must hate me.
i deserve it."
he paused, but she said no word.
she could not.
after a space, he went wistfully on.
""i know you can never forgive me -- no girl could.
i've behaved like a fool.
there is n't any excuse to be made for me.
i do n't think i could have been in my right senses, estella.
it all seems like some bad dream now.
when i saw her that night, i came to my right mind, and i've been the most miserable man alive ever since.
not for her -- but because i'd lost you.
i ca n't bear to live here any longer, so i am going away.
will you say good-bye, estella?"
still she did not speak.
there were a hundred things she wanted to say but she could not say them.
did he mean that he loved her still?
if she were sure of that, she could forgive him anything, but her doubt rendered her mute.
the young man turned away despairingly from her rigid attitude.
so be it -- he had brought his fate on himself.
he had gone but a few steps when estella suddenly found her voice with a gasp.
""spencer!"
he came swiftly back.
""oh, spencer -- do -- you -- do you love me still?"
he caught her hands in his.
""love you -- oh, estella, yes, yes!
i always have.
that other was n't love -- it was just madness.
when it passed i hated life because i'd lost you.
i know you ca n't forgive me, but, oh --" he broke down.
estella flung her arms around his neck and put her face up to his.
she felt as if her heart must break with its great happiness.
he understood her mute pardon.
in their kiss the past was put aside.
estella's martyrdom was ended.
the old chest at wyther grange when i was a child i always thought a visit to wyther grange was a great treat.
it was a big, quiet, old-fashioned house where grandmother laurance and mrs. delisle, my aunt winnifred, lived.
i was a favourite with them, yet i could never overcome a certain awe of them both.
grandmother was a tall, dignified old lady with keen black eyes that seemed veritably to bore through one.
she always wore stiffly-rustling gowns of rich silk made in the fashion of her youth.
i suppose she must have changed her dress occasionally, but the impression on my mind was always the same, as she went trailing about the house with a big bunch of keys at her belt -- keys that opened a score of wonderful old chests and boxes and drawers.
it was one of my dearest delights to attend grandmother in her peregrinations and watch the unfolding and examining of all those old treasures and heirlooms of bygone laurances.
of aunt winnifred i was less in awe, possibly because she dressed in a modern way and so looked to my small eyes more human and natural.
as winnifred laurance she had been the beauty of the family and was a handsome woman still, with brilliant dark eyes and cameo-like features.
she always looked very sad, spoke in a low sweet voice, and was my childish ideal of all that was high-bred and graceful.
i had many beloved haunts at the grange, but i liked the garret best.
it was a roomy old place, big enough to have comfortably housed a family in itself, and was filled with cast-off furniture and old trunks and boxes of discarded finery.
i was never tired of playing there, dressing up in the old-fashioned gowns and hats and practising old-time dance steps before the high, cracked mirror that hung at one end.
that old garret was a veritable fairyland to me.
there was one old chest which i could not explore and, like all forbidden things, it possessed a great attraction for me.
it stood away back in a dusty, cobwebbed corner, a strong, high wooden box, painted blue.
from some words which i had heard grandmother let fall i was sure it had a history; it was the one thing she never explored in her periodical overhaulings.
when i grew tired of playing i liked to creep up on it and sit there, picturing out my own fancies concerning it -- of which my favourite one was that some day i should solve the riddle and open the chest to find it full of gold and jewels with which i might restore the fortune of the laurances and all the traditionary splendours of the old grange.
i was sitting there one day when aunt winnifred and grandmother laurance came up the narrow dark staircase, the latter jingling her keys and peering into the dusty corners as she came along the room.
when they came to the old chest, grandmother rapped the top smartly with her keys.
""i wonder what is in this old chest," she said.
""i believe it really should be opened.
the moths may have got into it through that crack in the lid."
""why do n't you open it, mother?"
said mrs. delisle.
""i am sure that key of robert's would fit the lock."
""no," said grandmother in the tone that nobody, not even aunt winnifred, ever dreamed of disputing.
""i will not open that chest without eliza's permission.
she confided it to my care when she went away, and i promised that it should never be opened until she came for it."
""poor eliza," said mrs. delisle thoughtfully.
""i wonder what she is like now.
very much changed, like all the rest of us, i suppose.
it is almost thirty years since she was here.
how pretty she was!"
""i never approved of her," said grandmother brusquely.
""she was a sentimental, fanciful creature.
she might have married well but she preferred to waste her life pining over the memory of a man who was not worthy to untie the shoelace of a laurance."
mrs. delisle sighed softly and made no reply.
people said that she had had her own romance in her youth and that her mother had sternly repressed it.
i had heard that her marriage with mr. delisle was loveless on her part and proved very unhappy.
but he had been dead many years, and aunt winnifred never spoke of him.
""i have made up my mind what to do," said grandmother decidedly.
""i will write to eliza and ask her if i may open the chest to see if the moths have got into it.
if she refuses, well and good.
i have no doubt that she will refuse.
she will cling to her old sentimental ideas as long as the breath is in her body."
i rather avoided the old chest after this.
it took on a new significance in my eyes and seemed to me like the tomb of something -- possibly some dead and buried romance of the past.
later on a letter came to grandmother; she passed it over the table to mrs. delisle.
""that is from eliza," she said.
""i would know her writing anywhere -- none of your modern sprawly, untidy hands, but a fine lady-like script, as regular as copperplate.
read the letter, winnifred; i have n't my glasses and i dare say eliza's rhapsodies would tire me very much.
you need not read them aloud -- i can imagine them all.
let me know what she says about the chest."
aunt winnifred opened and read the letter and laid it down with a brief sigh.
""this is all she says about the chest.
"if it were not for one thing that is in it, i would ask you to open the chest and burn all its contents.
but i can not bear that anyone but myself should see or touch that one thing.
so please leave the chest as it is, dear aunt.
it is no matter if the moths do get in."
that is all," continued mrs. delisle, "and i must confess that i am disappointed.
i have always had an almost childish curiosity about that old chest, but i seem fated not to have it gratified.
that "one thing" must be her wedding dress.
i have always thought that she locked it away there."
""her answer is just what i expected of her," said grandmother impatiently.
""evidently the years have not made her more sensible.
well, i wash my hands of her belongings, moths or no moths."
it was not until ten years afterwards that i heard anything more of the old chest.
grandmother laurance had died, but aunt winnifred still lived at the grange.
she was very lonely, and the winter after grandmother's death she sent me an invitation to make her a long visit.
when i revisited the garret and saw the old blue chest in the same dusty corner, my childish curiosity revived and i begged aunt winnifred to tell me its history.
""i am glad you have reminded me of it," said mrs. delisle.
""i have intended to open the chest ever since mother's death but i kept putting it off.
you know, amy, poor eliza laurance died five years ago, but even then mother would not have the chest opened.
there is no reason why it should not be examined now.
if you like, we will go and open it at once and afterwards i will tell you the story."
we went eagerly up the garret stairs.
aunt knelt down before the old chest and selected a key from the bunch at her belt.
""would it not be too provoking, amy, if this key should not fit after all?
well, i do not believe you would be any more disappointed than i." she turned the key and lifted the heavy lid.
i bent forward eagerly.
a layer of tissue paper revealed itself, with a fine tracing of sifted dust in its crinkles.
""lift it up, child," said my aunt gently.
""there are no ghosts for you, at least, in this old chest."
i lifted the paper up and saw that the chest was divided into two compartments.
lying on the top of one was a small, square, inlaid box.
this mrs. delisle took up and carried to the window.
lifting up the cover she laid it in my lap.
""there, amy, look through it and let us see what old treasures have lain hidden there these forty years."
the first thing i took out was a small square case covered with dark purple velvet.
the tiny clasp was almost rusted away and yielded easily.
i gave a little cry of admiration.
aunt winnifred bent over my shoulder.
""that is eliza's portrait at the age of twenty, and that is willis starr's.
was she not lovely, amy?"
lovely indeed was the face looking out at me from its border of tarnished gilt.
it was the face of a young girl, in shape a perfect oval, with delicate features and large dark-blue eyes.
her hair, caught high on the crown and falling on her neck in the long curls of a bygone fashion, was a warm auburn, and the curves of her bare neck and shoulders were exquisite.
""the other picture is that of the man to whom she was betrothed.
tell me, amy, do you think him handsome?"
i looked at the other portrait critically.
it was that of a young man of about twenty-five; he was undeniably handsome, but there was something i did not like in his face and i said so.
aunt winnifred made no reply -- she was taking out the remaining contents of the box.
there was a white silk fan with delicately carved ivory sticks, a packet of old letters and a folded paper containing some dried and crumpled flowers.
aunt laid the box aside and unpacked the chest in silence.
first came a ball dress of pale-yellow satin brocade, made with the trained skirt, "baby" waist and full puffed sleeves of a former generation.
beneath it was a case containing a necklace of small but perfect pearls and a pair of tiny satin slippers.
the rest of the compartment was filled with household linen, fine and costly but yellowed with age -- damask table linen and webs of the uncut fabric.
in the second compartment lay a dress.
aunt winnifred lifted it out reverently.
it was a gown of rich silk that had once been white, but now, like the linen, it was yellow with age.
it was simply made and trimmed with cobwebby old lace.
wrapped around it was a long white bridal veil, redolent with some strange, old-time perfume that had kept its sweetness all through the years.
""well, amy, this is all," said aunt winnifred with a quiver in her voice.
""and now for the story.
where shall i begin?"
""at the very beginning, aunty.
you see i know nothing at all except her name.
tell me who she was and why she put her wedding dress away here."
""poor eliza!"
said aunt dreamily.
""it is a sorrowful story, amy, and it seems so long ago now.
i must be an old woman.
forty years ago -- and i was only twenty then.
eliza laurance was my cousin, the only daughter of uncle henry laurance.
my father -- your grandfather, amy, you do n't remember him -- had two brothers, each of whom had an only daughter.
both these girls were called eliza after your great-grandmother.
i never saw uncle george's eliza but once.
he was a rich man and his daughter was much sought after, but she was no beauty, i promise you that, and proud and vain to the last degree.
her home was in a distant city and she never came to wyther grange.
""the other eliza laurance was a poor man's daughter.
she and i were of the same age and did not look unlike each other, although i was not so pretty by half.
you can see by the portrait how beautiful she was, and it does her scant justice, for half her charm lay in her arch expression and her vivacious ways.
she had her little faults, of course, and was rather over much given to romance and sentiment.
this did not seem much of a defect to me then, amy, for i was young and romantic too.
mother never cared much for eliza, i think, but everyone else liked her.
one winter eliza came to wyther grange for a long visit.
the grange was a very lively place then, amy.
eliza kept the old house ringing with merriment.
we went out a great deal and she was always the belle of any festivity we attended.
yet she wore her honours easily; all the flattery and homage she received did not turn her head.
""that winter we first met willis starr.
he was a newcomer, and nobody knew much about him, but one or two of the best families took him up, and his own fascinations did the rest.
he became what you would call the rage.
he was considered very handsome, his manners were polished and easy, and people said he was rich.
""i do n't think, amy, that i ever trusted willis starr.
but like all the rest, i was blinded by his charm.
mother was almost the only one who did not worship at his shrine, and very often she dropped hints about penniless adventurers that made eliza very indignant.
""from the first he had paid eliza marked attention and seemed utterly bewitched by her.
well, his was an easy winning.
eliza loved him with her whole impulsive, girlish heart and made no attempt to hide it.
""i shall never forget the night they were first engaged.
it was eliza's birthday, and we were invited to a ball that evening.
this yellow gown is the very one she wore.
i suppose that is why she put it away here -- the gown she wore on the happiest night of her life.
i had never seen her look more beautiful -- her neck and arms were bare, and she wore this string of pearls and carried a bouquet of her favourite white roses.
""when we reached home after the dance, eliza had her happy secret to tell us.
she was engaged to willis starr, and they were to be married in early spring.
""willis starr certainly seemed to be an ideal lover, and eliza was so perfectly happy that she seemed to grow more beautiful and radiant every day.
""well, amy, the wedding day was set.
eliza was to be married from the grange, as her own mother was dead, and i was to be bridesmaid.
we made her wedding dress together, she and i. girls were not above making their own gowns then, and not a stitch was set in eliza's save those put there by loving fingers and blessed by loving wishes.
it was i who draped the veil over her sunny curls -- see how yellow and creased it is now, but it was as white as snow that day.
""a week before the wedding, willis starr was spending the evening at the grange.
we were all chattering gaily about the coming event, and in speaking of the invited guests eliza said something about the other eliza laurance, the great heiress, looking archly at willis over her shoulder as she spoke.
it was some merry badinage about the cousin whose namesake she was but whom she so little resembled.
""we all laughed, but i shall never forget the look that came over willis starr's face.
it passed quickly, but the chill fear that it gave me remained.
a few minutes later i left the room on some trifling errand, and as i returned through the dim hall i was met by willis starr.
he laid his hand on my arm and bent his evil face -- for it was evil then, amy -- close to mine."
"tell me," he said in a low but rude tone, "is there another eliza laurance who is an heiress?""
"certainly there is," i said sharply.
"she is our cousin and the daughter of our uncle george.
our eliza is not an heiress.
you surely did not suppose she was!"
""willis stepped aside with a mocking smile.""
i did -- what wonder?
i had heard much about the great heiress, eliza laurance, and the great beauty, eliza laurance.
i supposed they were one and the same.
you have all been careful not to undeceive me.""
"you forget yourself, mr. starr, when you speak so to me," i retorted coldly.
"you have deceived yourself.
we have never dreamed of allowing anyone to think that eliza was an heiress.
she is sweet and lovely enough to be loved for her own sake."
""i went back to the parlour full of dismay.
willis starr remained gloomy and taciturn all the rest of the evening, but nobody seemed to notice it but myself.
""the next day we were all so busy that i almost forgot the incident of the previous evening.
we girls were up in the sewing room putting the last touches to the wedding gown.
eliza tried it and her veil on and was standing so, in all her silken splendour, when a letter was brought in.
i guessed by her blush who was the writer.
i laughed and ran downstairs, leaving her to read it.
""when i returned she was still standing just where i had left her in the middle of the room, holding the letter in her hand.
her face was as white as her veil, and her wide-open eyes had a dazed, agonized look as of someone who had been stricken a mortal blow.
all the soft happiness and sweetness had gone out of them.
they were the eyes of an old woman, amy."
"eliza, what is the matter?"
i said.
"has anything happened to willis?"
""she made no answer, but walked to the fireplace, dropped the letter in a bed of writhing blue flame and watched it burn to white ashes.
then she turned to me."
"help me take off this gown, winnie," she said dully."
i shall never wear it again.
there will be no wedding.
willis is gone.""
"gone!"
i echoed stupidly."
"yes.
i am not the heiress, winnie.
it was the fortune, not the girl, he loved.
he says he is too poor for us to dream of marrying when i have nothing.
oh, such a cruel, heartless letter!
why did he not kill me?
it would have been so much more merciful!
i loved him so -- i trusted him so!
oh, winnie, winnie, what am i to do!"
""there was something terrible in the contrast between her passionate words and her calm face and lifeless voice.
i wanted to call mother, but she would not let me.
she went away to her own room, trailing along the dark hall in her dress and veil, and locked herself in.
""well, i told it all to the others in some fashion.
you can imagine their anger and dismay.
your father, amy -- he was a hot-blooded, impetuous, young fellow then -- went at once to seek willis starr.
but he was gone, no one knew where, and the whole country rang with the gossip and scandal of the affair.
eliza knew nothing of this, for she was ill and unconscious for many a day.
in a novel or story she would have died, i suppose, and that would have been the end of it.
but this was in real life, and eliza did not die, although many times we thought she would.
""when she did recover, how frightfully changed she was!
it almost broke my heart to see her.
her very nature seemed to have changed too -- all her joyousness and light-heartedness were dead.
from that time she was a faded, dispirited creature, no more like the eliza we had known than the merest stranger.
and then after a while came other news -- willis starr was married to the other eliza laurance, the true heiress.
he had made no second mistake.
we tried to keep it from eliza but she found it out at last.
that was the day she came up here alone and packed this old chest.
nobody ever knew just what she put into it.
but you and i see now, amy -- her ball dress, her wedding gown, her love letters and, more than all else, her youth and happiness -- this old chest was the tomb of it all.
eliza laurance was really buried here.
""she went home soon after.
before she went she exacted a promise from mother that the old chest should be left at the grange unopened until she came for it herself.
but she never came back, and i do not think she ever intended to, and i never saw her again.
""that is the story of the old chest.
it was all over so long ago -- the heartbreak and the misery -- but it all seems to come back to me now.
poor eliza!"
my own eyes were full of tears as aunt winnifred went down the stairs, leaving me sitting dreamily there in the sunset light, with the old yellowed bridal veil across my lap and the portrait of eliza laurance in my hand.
around me were the relics of her pitiful story -- the old, oft-repeated story of a faithless love and a woman's broken heart -- the gown she had worn, the slippers in which she had danced light-heartedly at her betrothal ball, her fan, her pearls, her gloves -- and it somehow seemed to me as if i were living in those old years myself, as if the love and happiness, the betrayal and pain were part of my own life.
presently aunt winnifred came back through the twilight shadows.
""let us put all these things back in their grave, amy," she said.
""they are of no use to anyone now.
the linen might be bleached and used, i dare say -- but it would seem like a sacrilege.
it was mother's wedding present to eliza.
and the pearls -- would you care to have them, amy?"
""oh, no, no," i said with a little shiver.
""i would never wear them, aunt winnifred.
i should feel like a ghost if i did.
put everything back just as we found it -- only her portrait.
i would like to keep that."
reverently we put gowns and letters and trinkets back into the old blue chest.
aunt winnifred closed the lid and turned the key softly.
she bowed her head over it for a minute and then we went together in silence down the shadowy garret stairs of wyther grange.
the osbornes" christmas cousin myra had come to spend christmas at "the firs," and all the junior osbornes were ready to stand on their heads with delight.
darby -- whose real name was charles -- did it, because he was only eight, and at eight you have no dignity to keep up.
the others, being older, could n't.
but the fact of christmas itself awoke no great enthusiasm in the hearts of the junior osbornes.
frank voiced their opinion of it the day after cousin myra had arrived.
he was sitting on the table with his hands in his pockets and a cynical sneer on his face.
at least, frank flattered himself that it was cynical.
he knew that uncle edgar was said to wear a cynical sneer, and frank admired uncle edgar very much and imitated him in every possible way.
but to you and me it would have looked just as it did to cousin myra -- a very discontented and unbecoming scowl.
""i'm awfully glad to see you, cousin myra," explained frank carefully, "and your being here may make some things worth while.
but christmas is just a bore -- a regular bore."
that was what uncle edgar called things that did n't interest him, so that frank felt pretty sure of his word.
nevertheless, he wondered uncomfortably what made cousin myra smile so queerly.
""why, how dreadful!"
she said brightly.
""i thought all boys and girls looked upon christmas as the very best time in the year."
""we do n't," said frank gloomily.
""it's just the same old thing year in and year out.
we know just exactly what is going to happen.
we even know pretty well what presents we are going to get.
and christmas day itself is always the same.
we'll get up in the morning, and our stockings will be full of things, and half of them we do n't want.
then there's dinner.
it's always so poky.
and all the uncles and aunts come to dinner -- just the same old crowd, every year, and they say just the same things.
aunt desda always says, "why, frankie, how you have grown!"
she knows i hate to be called frankie.
and after dinner they'll sit round and talk the rest of the day, and that's all.
yes, i call christmas a nuisance."
""there is n't a single bit of fun in it," said ida discontentedly.
""not a bit!"
said the twins, both together, as they always said things.
""there's lots of candy," said darby stoutly.
he rather liked christmas, although he was ashamed to say so before frank.
cousin myra smothered another of those queer smiles.
""you've had too much christmas, you osbornes," she said seriously.
""it has palled on your taste, as all good things will if you overdo them.
did you ever try giving christmas to somebody else?"
the osbornes looked at cousin myra doubtfully.
they did n't understand.
""we always send presents to all our cousins," said frank hesitatingly.
""that's a bore, too.
they've all got so many things already it's no end of bother to think of something new."
""that is n't what i mean," said cousin myra.
""how much christmas do you suppose those little rolands down there in the hollow have?
or sammy abbott with his lame back?
or french joe's family over the hill?
if you have too much christmas, why do n't you give some to them?"
the osbornes looked at each other.
this was a new idea.
""how could we do it?"
asked ida.
whereupon they had a consultation.
cousin myra explained her plan, and the osbornes grew enthusiastic over it.
even frank forgot that he was supposed to be wearing a cynical sneer.
""i move we do it, osbornes," said he.
""if father and mother are willing," said ida.
""wo n't it be jolly!"
exclaimed the twins.
""well, rather," said darby scornfully.
he did not mean to be scornful.
he had heard frank saying the same words in the same tone, and thought it signified approval.
cousin myra had a talk with father and mother osborne that night, and found them heartily in sympathy with her plans.
for the next week the osbornes were agog with excitement and interest.
at first cousin myra made the suggestions, but their enthusiasm soon outstripped her, and they thought out things for themselves.
never did a week pass so quickly.
and the osbornes had never had such fun, either.
christmas morning there was not a single present given or received at "the firs" except those which cousin myra and mr. and mrs. osborne gave to each other.
the junior osbornes had asked that the money which their parents had planned to spend in presents for them be given to them the previous week; and given it was, without a word.
the uncles and aunts arrived in due time, but not with them was the junior osbornes" concern.
they were the guests of mr. and mrs. osborne.
the junior osbornes were having a christmas dinner party of their own.
in the small dining room a table was spread and loaded with good things.
ida and the twins cooked that dinner all by themselves.
to be sure, cousin myra had helped some, and frank and darby had stoned all the raisins and helped pull the home-made candy; and all together they had decorated the small dining room royally with christmas greens.
then their guests came.
first, all the little rolands from the hollow arrived -- seven in all, with very red, shining faces and not a word to say for themselves, so shy were they.
then came a troop from french joe's -- four black-eyed lads, who never knew what shyness meant.
frank drove down to the village in the cutter and brought lame sammy back with him, and soon after the last guest arrived -- little tillie mather, who was miss rankin's "orphan "sylum girl" from over the road.
everybody knew that miss rankin never kept christmas.
she did not believe in it, she said, but she did not prevent tillie from going to the osbornes" dinner party.
just at first the guests were a little stiff and unsocial; but they soon got acquainted, and so jolly was cousin myra -- who had her dinner with the children in preference to the grown-ups -- and so friendly the junior osbornes, that all stiffness vanished.
what a merry dinner it was!
what peals of laughter went up, reaching to the big dining room across the hall, where the grown-ups sat in rather solemn state.
and how those guests did eat and frankly enjoy the good things before them!
how nicely they all behaved, even to the french joes!
myra had secretly been a little dubious about those four mischievous-looking lads, but their manners were quite flawless.
mrs. french joe had been drilling them for three days -- ever since they had been invited to "de chrismus dinner at de beeg house."
after the merry dinner was over, the junior osbornes brought in a christmas tree, loaded with presents.
they had bought them with the money that mr. and mrs. osborne had meant for their own presents, and a splendid assortment they were.
all the french-joe boys got a pair of skates apiece, and sammy a set of beautiful books, and tillie was made supremely happy with a big wax doll.
every little roland got just what his or her small heart had been longing for.
besides, there were nuts and candies galore.
then frank hitched up his pony again, but this time into a great pung sleigh, and the junior osbornes took their guests for a sleigh-drive, chaperoned by cousin myra.
it was just dusk when they got back, having driven the rolands and the french joes and sammy and tillie to their respective homes.
""this has been the jolliest christmas i ever spent," said frank, emphatically.
""i thought we were just going to give the others a good time, but it was they who gave it to us," said ida.
""were n't the french joes jolly?"
giggled the twins.
""such cute speeches as they would make!"
""me and teddy roland are going to be chums after this," announced darby.
""he's an inch taller than me, but i'm wider."
that night frank and ida and cousin myra had a little talk after the smaller osbornes had been haled off to bed.
""we're not going to stop with christmas, cousin myra," said frank, at the end of it.
""we're just going to keep on through the year.
we've never had such a delightful old christmas before."
""you've learned the secret of happiness," said cousin myra gently.
and the osbornes understood what she meant.
the romance of aunt beatrice margaret always maintains that it was a direct inspiration of providence that took her across the street to see aunt beatrice that night.
and aunt beatrice believes that it was too.
but the truth of the matter is that margaret was feeling very unhappy, and went over to talk to aunt beatrice as the only alternative to a fit of crying.
margaret's unhappiness has nothing further to do with this story, so it may be dismissed with the remark that it did not amount to much, in spite of margaret's tragical attitude, and was dissipated at once and forever by the arrival of a certain missent letter the next day.
aunt beatrice was alone.
her brother and his wife had gone to the "at home" which mrs. cunningham was giving that night in honour of the honourable john reynolds, m.p..
the children were upstairs in bed, and aunt beatrice was darning their stockings, a big basketful of which loomed up aggressively on the table beside her.
or, to speak more correctly, she had been darning them.
just when margaret was sliding across the icy street aunt beatrice was bent forward in her chair, her hands over her face, while soft, shrinking little sobs shook her from head to foot.
when margaret's imperative knock came at the front door, aunt beatrice started guiltily and wished earnestly that she had waited until she went to bed before crying, if cry she must.
she knew margaret's knock, and she did not want her gay young niece, of all people in the world, to suspect the fact or the cause of her tears.
""i hope she wo n't notice my eyes," she thought, as she hastily plumped a big ugly dark-green shade, with an almond-eyed oriental leering from it, over the lamp, before going out to let margaret in.
margaret did not notice at first.
she was too deeply absorbed in her own troubles to think that anyone else in the world could be miserable too.
she curled up in the deep easy-chair by the fire, and clasped her hands behind her curly head with a sigh of physical comfort and mental unhappiness, while aunt beatrice, warily sitting with her back to the light, took up her work again.
""you did n't go to mrs. cunningham's "at home," auntie," said margaret lazily, feeling that she must make some conversation to justify her appearance.
""you were invited, were n't you?"
aunt beatrice nodded.
the hole she was darning in the knee of willie hayden's stocking must be done very carefully.
mrs. george hayden was particular about such matters.
perhaps this was why aunt beatrice did not speak.
""why did n't you go?"
asked margaret absently, wondering why there had been no letter for her that morning -- and this was the third day too!
could gilbert be ill?
or was he flirting with some other girl and forgetting her?
margaret swallowed a big lump in her throat, and resolved that she would go home next week -- no, she would n't, either -- if he was as hateful and fickle as that -- what was aunt beatrice saying?
""well, i'm -- i'm not used to going to parties now, my dear.
and the truth is i have no dress fit to wear.
at least bella said so, because the party was to be a very fashionable affair.
she said my old grey silk would n't do at all.
of course she knows.
she had to have a new dress for it, and, we could n't both have that.
george could n't afford it these hard times.
and, as bella said, it would be very foolish of me to get an expensive dress that would be no use to me afterward.
but it does n't matter.
and, of course, somebody had to stay with the children."
""of course," assented margaret dreamily.
mrs. cunningham's "at home" was of no particular interest.
the guests were all middle-aged people whom the m.p. had known in his boyhood and margaret, in her presumptuous youth, thought it would be a very prosy affair, although it had made quite a sensation in quiet little murraybridge, where people still called an "at home" a party plain and simple.
""i saw mr. reynolds in church sunday afternoon," she went on.
""he is very fine-looking, i think.
did you ever meet him?"
""i used to know him very well long ago," answered aunt beatrice, bowing still lower over her work.
""he used to live down in wentworth, you know, and he visited his married sister here very often.
he was only a boy at that time.
then -- he went out to british columbia and -- and -- we never heard much more about him."
""he's very rich and owns dozens of mines and railroads and things like that," said margaret, "and he's a member of the dominion parliament, too.
they say he's one of the foremost men in the house and came very near getting a portfolio in the new cabinet.
i like men like that.
they are so interesting.
would n't it be awfully nice and complimentary to have one of them in love with you?
is he married?"
""i -- i do n't know," said aunt beatrice faintly.
""i have never heard that he was."
""there, you've run the needle into your finger," said margaret sympathetically.
""it's of no consequence," said aunt beatrice hastily.
she wiped away the drop of blood and went on with her work.
margaret watched her dreamily.
what lovely hair aunt beatrice had!
it was so thick and glossy, with warm bronze tones where the lamp-light fell on it under that hideous weird old shade.
but aunt beatrice wore it in such an unbecoming way.
margaret idly wondered if she would comb her hair straight back and prim when she was thirty-five.
she thought it very probable if that letter did not come tomorrow.
from aunt beatrice's hair margaret's eyes fell to aunt beatrice's face.
she gave a little jump.
had aunt beatrice been crying?
margaret sat bolt upright.
""aunt beatrice, did you want to go to that party?"
she demanded explosively.
""now tell me the truth."
""i did," said aunt beatrice weakly.
margaret's sudden attack fairly startled the truth out of her.
""it is very silly of me, i know, but i did want to go.
i did n't care about a new dress.
i'd have been quite willing to wear my grey silk, and i could have fixed the sleeves.
what difference would it have made?
nobody would ever have noticed me, but bella thought it would n't do."
she paused long enough to give a little sob which she could not repress.
margaret made use of the opportunity to exclaim violently, "it's a shame!"
""i suppose you do n't understand why i wanted to go to this particular party so much," went on aunt beatrice shyly.
""i'll tell you why -- if you wo n't laugh at me.
i wanted to see john reynolds -- not to talk to him -- oh, i dare say he would n't remember me -- but just to see him.
long ago -- fifteen years ago -- we were engaged.
and -- and -- i loved him so much then, margaret."
""you poor dear!"
said margaret sympathetically.
she reached over and patted her aunt's hand.
she thought that this little bit of romance, long hidden and unsuspected, blossoming out under her eyes, was charming.
in her interest she quite forgot her own pet grievance.
""yes -- and then we quarrelled.
it was a dreadful quarrel and it was about such a trifle.
we parted in anger and he went away.
he never came back.
it was all my fault.
well, it is all over long ago and everybody has forgotten.
i -- i do n't mind it now.
but i just wanted to see him once more and then come quietly away."
""aunt beatrice, you are going to that party yet," said margaret decisively.
""oh, it is impossible, my dear."
""no, it is n't.
nothing is impossible when i make up my mind.
you must go.
i'll drag you there by main force if it comes to that.
oh, i have such a jolly plan, auntie.
you know my black and yellow dinner dress -- no, you do n't either, for i've never worn it here.
the folks at home all said it was too severe for me -- and so it is.
nothing suits me but the fluffy, chuffy things with a tilt to them.
gil -- er -- i mean -- well, yes, gilbert always declared that dress made me look like a cross between an unwilling nun and a ballet girl, so i took a dislike to it.
but it's as lovely as a dream.
oh, when you see it your eyes will stick out.
you must wear it tonight.
it's just your style, and i'm sure it will fit you, for our figures are so much alike."
""but it is too late.""
't is n't.
it's not more than half an hour since uncle george and aunt bella went.
i'll have you ready in a twinkling."
""but the fire -- and the children!"
""i'll stay here and look after both.
i wo n't burn the house down, and if the twins wake up i'll give them -- what is it you give them -- soothing syrup?
so go at once and get you ready, while i fly over for the dress.
i'll fix your hair up when i get back."
margaret was gone before aunt beatrice could speak again.
her niece's excitement seized hold of her too.
she flung the stockings into the basket and the basket into the closet.
""i will go -- and i wo n't do another bit of darning tonight.
i hate it -- i hate it -- i hate it!
oh, how much good it does me to say it!"
when margaret came flying up the stairs aunt beatrice was ready save for hair and dress.
margaret cast the gown on the bed, revealing all its beauty of jetted lace and soft yellow silk with a dextrous sweep of her arm.
aunt beatrice gave a little cry of admiration.
""is n't it lovely?"
demanded margaret.
""and i've brought you my opera cape and my fascinator and my black satin slippers with the cunningest gold buckles, and some sweet pale yellow roses that uncle ned gave me yesterday.
oh, aunt beatrice!
what magnificent arms and shoulders you have!
they're like marble.
mine are so scrawny i'm just ashamed to have people know they belong to me."
margaret's nimble fingers were keeping time with her tongue.
aunt beatrice's hair went up as if by magic into soft puffs and waves and twists, and a golden rose was dropped among the bronze masses.
then the lovely dress was put on and pinned and looped and pulled until it fell into its simple, classical lines around the tall, curving figure.
margaret stepped back and clapped her hands admiringly.
""oh, auntie, you're beautiful!
now i'll pop down for the cloak and fascinator.
i left them hanging by the fire."
when margaret had gone aunt beatrice caught up the lamp and tiptoed shamefacedly across the hall to the icy-cold spare room.
in the long mirror she saw herself reflected from top to toe -- or was it herself!
could it be -- that gracious woman with the sweet eyes and flushed cheeks, with rounded arms gleaming through their black laces and the cluster of roses nestling against the warm white flesh of the shoulder?
""i do look nice," she said aloud, with a little curtsey to the radiant reflection.
""it is all the dress, i know.
i feel like a queen in it -- no, like a girl again -- and that's better."
margaret went to mrs. cunningham's door with her.
""how i wish i could go in and see the sensation you'll make, aunt beatrice," she whispered.
""you dear, silly child!
it's just the purple and fine linen," laughed aunt beatrice.
but she did not altogether think so, and she rang the doorbell unquailingly.
in the hall mrs. cunningham herself came beamingly to greet her.
""my dear beatrice!
i'm so glad.
bella said you could not come because you had a headache."
""my headache got quite better after they left, and so i thought i would get ready and come, even if it were rather late," said beatrice glibly, wondering if sapphira had ever worn a black-and-yellow dress, and if so, might not her historic falsehood be traced to its influence?
when they came downstairs together, beatrice, statuesque and erect in her trailing draperies, and mrs. cunningham secretly wondering where on earth beatrice hayden had got such a magnificent dress and what she had done to herself to make her look as she did -- a man came through the hall.
at the foot of the stairs they met.
he put out his hand.
""beatrice!
it must be beatrice!
how little you have changed!"
mrs. cunningham was not particularly noted in murraybridge for her tact, but she had a sudden visitation of the saving grace at that moment, and left the two alone.
beatrice put her hand into the m.p.'s.
""i am glad to see you," she said simply, looking up at him.
she could not say that he had not changed, for there was little in this tall, broad-shouldered man of the world, with grey glints in his hair, to suggest the slim, boyish young lover whose image she had carried in her heart all the long years.
but the voice, though deeper and mellower, was the same, and the thin, clever mouth that went up at one corner and down at the other in a humorous twist; and one little curl of reddish hair fell over his forehead away from its orderly fellows, just as it used to when she had loved to poke her fingers through it; and, more than all, the deep-set grey eyes looking down into her blue ones were unchanged.
beatrice felt her heart beating to her fingertips.
""i thought you were not coming," he said.
""i expected to meet you here and i was horribly disappointed.
i thought the bitterness of that foolish old quarrel must be strong enough to sway you yet."
""did n't bella tell you i had a headache?"
faltered beatrice.
""bella?
oh, your brother's wife!
i was n't talking to her.
i've been sulking in corners ever since i concluded you were not coming.
how beautiful you are, beatrice!
you'll let an old friend say that much, wo n't you?"
beatrice laughed softly.
she had forgotten for years that she was beautiful, but the sweet old knowledge had come back to her again.
she could not help knowing that he spoke the simple truth, but she said mirthfully, "you've learned to flatter since the old days, have n't you?
do n't you remember you used to tell me i was too thin to be pretty?
but i suppose a bit of blarney is a necessary ingredient in the composition of an m.p." he was still holding her hand.
with a glance of dissatisfaction at the open parlour door, he drew her away to the little room at the end of the hall, which mrs. cunningham, for reasons known only to herself, called her library.
""come in here with me," he said masterfully.
""i want to have a long talk with you before the other people get hold of you."
when beatrice got home from the party ten minutes before her brother and his wife, margaret was sitting turk fashion in the big armchair, with her eyes very wide open and owlish.
""you dear girlie, were you asleep?"
asked aunt beatrice indulgently.
margaret nodded.
""yes, and i've let the fire go out.
i hope you're not cold.
i must run before aunt bella gets here, or she'll scold.
had a nice time?"
""delightful.
you were a dear to lend me this dress.
it was so funny to see bella staring at it."
when margaret had put on her hat and jacket she went as far as the street door, and then tiptoed back to the sitting-room.
aunt beatrice was leaning back in the armchair, with a drooping rose held softly against her lips, gazing dreamily into the dull red embers.
""auntie," said margaret contritely, "i ca n't go home without confessing, although i know it is a heinous offence to interrupt the kind of musing that goes with dying embers and faded roses in the small hours.
but it would weigh on my conscience all night if i did n't.
i was asleep, but i wakened up just before you came in and went to the window.
i did n't mean to spy upon anyone -- but that street was bright as day!
and if you will let an m.p. kiss you on the doorstep in glaring moonlight, you must expect to be seen."
""i would n't have cared if there had been a dozen onlookers," said aunt beatrice frankly, "and i do n't believe he would either."
margaret threw up her hands.
""well, my conscience is clear, at least.
and remember, aunt beatrice, i'm to be bridesmaid -- i insist upon that.
and, oh, wo n't you ask me to visit you when you go down to ottawa next winter?
i'm told it's such a jolly place when the house is in session.
and you'll need somebody to help you entertain, you know.
the wife of a cabinet minister has to do lots of that.
but i forgot -- he is n't a cabinet minister yet.
but he will be, of course.
promise that you'll have me, aunt beatrice, promise quick.
i hear uncle george and aunt bella coming."
aunt beatrice promised.
margaret flew to the door.
""you'd better keep that dress," she called back softly, as she opened it.
the running away of chester chester did the chores with unusual vim that night.
his lips were set and there was an air of resolution as plainly visible on his small, freckled face as if it had been stamped there.
mrs. elwell saw him flying around, and her grim features took on a still grimmer expression.
""ches is mighty lively tonight," she muttered.
""i s "pose he's in a gog to be off on some foolishness with henry wilson.
well, he wo n't, and he need n't think it."
lige barton, the hired man, also thought this was chester's purpose, but he took a more lenient view of it than did mrs. elwell.
""the little chap is going through things with a rush this evening," he reflected.
""guess he's laying out for a bit of fun with the wilson boy."
but chester was not planning anything connected with henry wilson, who lived on the other side of the pond and was the only chum he possessed.
after the chores were done, he lingered a little while around the barns, getting his courage keyed up to the necessary pitch.
chester stephens was an orphan without kith or kin in the world, unless his father's stepsister, mrs. harriet elwell, could be called so.
his parents had died in his babyhood, and mrs. elwell had taken him to bring up.
she was a harsh woman, with a violent temper, and she had scolded and worried the boy all his short life.
upton people said it was a shame, but nobody felt called upon to interfere.
mrs. elwell was not a person one would care to make an enemy of.
she eyed chester sourly when he went in, expecting some request to be allowed to go with henry, and prepared to refuse it sharply.
""aunt harriet," said chester suddenly, "can i go to school this year?
it begins tomorrow."
""no," said mrs. elwell, when she had recovered from her surprise at this unexpected question.
""you've had schoolin" in plenty -- more'n i ever had, and all you're goin" to get!"
""but, aunt harriet," persisted chester, his face flushed with earnestness, "i'm nearly thirteen, and i can barely read and write a little.
the other boys are ever so far ahead of me.
i do n't know anything."
""you know enough to be disrespectful!"
exclaimed mrs. elwell.
""i suppose you want to go to school to idle away your time, as you do at home -- lazy good-for-nothing that you are!"
chester thought of the drudgery that had been his portion all his life.
he resented being called lazy when he was willing enough to work, but he made one more appeal.
""if you'll let me go to school this year, i'll work twice as hard out of school to make up for it -- indeed, i will.
do let me go, aunt harriet.
i have n't been to school a day for over a year."
""let's hear no more of this nonsense," said mrs. elwell, taking a bottle from the shelf above her with the air of one who closes a discussion.
""here, run down to the bridge and get me this bottle full of vinegar at jacob's store.
be smart, too, d'ye hear!
i ai n't going to have you idling around the bridge neither.
if you ai n't back in twenty minutes, it wo n't be well for you."
chester did his errand at the bridge with a heart full of bitter disappointment and anger.
""i wo n't stand it any longer!"
he muttered.
""i'll run away -- i do n't care where, so long as it's away from her.
i wish i could get out west on the harvest excursions."
on his return home, as he crossed the yard in the dusk, he stumbled over a stick of wood and fell.
the bottle of vinegar slipped from his hand and was broken on the doorstep.
mrs. elwell saw the accident from the window.
she rushed out and jerked the unlucky lad to his feet.
""take that, you sulky little cub!"
she exclaimed, cuffing his ears soundly.
""i'll teach you to break and spill things you're sent for!
you did it on purpose.
get off to bed with you this instant."
chester crept off to his garret chamber with a very sullen face.
he was too used to being sent to bed without any supper to care much for that, although he was hungry.
but his whole being was in a tumult of rebellion over the injustice that was meted out to him.
""i wo n't stand it!"
he muttered over and over again.
""i'll run away.
i wo n't stay here."
to talk of running away was one thing.
to do it without a cent in your pocket or a place to run to was another.
but chester had a great deal of determination in his make-up when it was fairly roused, and his hard upbringing had made him older and shrewder than his years.
he lay awake late that night, thinking out ways and means, but could arrive at no satisfactory conclusion.
the next day mrs. elwell said, "ches, abner stearns wants you to go up there for a fortnight while tom bixby is away, and drive the milk wagon of mornings and do the chores for mrs. stearns.
you might as well put in the time "fore harvest that way as any other.
so hustle off -- and mind you behave yourself."
chester heard the news gladly.
he had not yet devised any feasible plan for running away, and he always liked to work at the stearns" place.
to be sure, mrs. elwell received all the money he earned, but mrs. stearns was kind to him, and though he had to work hard and constantly, he was well fed and well treated by all.
the following fortnight was a comparatively happy one for the lad.
but he did not forget his purpose of shaking the dust of upton from his feet as soon as possible, and he cudgelled his brains trying to find a way.
on the evening when he left the stearns" homestead, mr. stearns paid him for his fortnight's work, much to the boy's surprise, for mrs. elwell had always insisted that all such money should be paid directly to her.
chester found himself the possessor of four dollars -- an amount of riches that almost took away his breath.
he had never in his whole life owned more than ten cents at a time.
as he tramped along the road home, he kept his hand in his pocket, holding fast to the money, as if he feared it would otherwise dissolve into thin air.
his mind was firmly made up.
he would run away once and for all.
this money was rightly his; he had earned every cent of it.
it would surely last him until he found employment elsewhere.
at any rate, he would go; and even if he starved, he would never come back to aunt harriet's!
when he reached home, he found mrs. elwell in an unusual state of worry.
lige had given warning -- and this on the verge of harvest!
""did stearns say anything about coming down tomorrow to pay me for your work?"
she asked.
""no, ma'am.
he did n't say a word about it," said chester boldly.
""well, i hope he will.
take yourself off to bed, ches.
i'm sick of seeing you standing there, on one foot or t "other, like a gander."
chester had been shifting about uneasily.
he realized that, if his project did not miscarry, he would not see his aunt again, and his heart softened to her.
harsh as she was, she was the only protector he had ever known, and the boy had a vague wish to carry away with him some kindly word or look from her.
such, however, was not forthcoming, and chester obeyed her command and took himself off to the garret.
here he sat down and reflected on his plans.
he must go that very night.
when mr. stearns failed to appear on the morrow, mrs. elwell was quite likely to march up and demand the amount of chester's wages.
it would all come out then, and he would lose his money -- besides, no doubt, getting severely punished into the bargain.
his preparations did not take long.
he had nothing to carry with him.
the only decent suit of clothes he possessed was his well-worn sunday one.
this he put on, carefully stowing away in his pocket the precious four dollars.
he had to wait until he thought his aunt was asleep, and it was about eleven when he crept downstairs, his heart quaking within him, and got out by the porch window.
when he found himself alone in the clear moonlight of the august night, a sense of elation filled his cramped little heart.
he was free, and he would never come back here -- never!
""wisht i could have seen henry to say good-by to him, though," he muttered with a wistful glance at the big house across the pond where the unconscious henry was sleeping soundly with never a thought of moonlight flittings for anyone in his curly head.
chester meant to walk to roxbury station ten miles away.
nobody knew him there, and he could catch the morning train.
late as it was, he kept to fields and wood-roads lest he might be seen and recognized.
it was three o'clock when he reached roxbury, and he knew the train did not pass through until six.
with the serenity of a philosopher who is starting out to win his way in the world and means to make the best of things, chester curled himself up in the hollow space of a big lumber pile behind the station, and so tired was he that he fell soundly asleep in a few minutes.
* * * * * chester was awakened by the shriek of the express at the last crossing before the station.
in a panic of haste he scrambled out of his lumber and dashed into the station house, where a sleepy, ill-natured agent stood behind the ticket window.
he looked sharply enough at the freckled, square-jawed boy who asked for a second-class ticket to belltown.
chester's heart quaked within him at the momentary thought that the ticket agent recognized him.
he had an agonized vision of being collared without ceremony and haled straightway back to aunt harriet.
when the ticket and his change were pushed out to him, he snatched them and fairly ran.
""bolted as if the police were after him," reflected the agent, who did not sell many tickets and so had time to take a personal interest in the purchasers thereof.
""i've seen that youngster before, though i ca n't recollect where.
he's got a most fearful determined look."
chester drew an audible sigh of relief when the train left the station.
he was fairly off now and felt that he could defy even curious railway officials.
it was not his first train ride, for mrs. elwell had once taken him to belltown to get an aching tooth extracted, but it was certainly his first under such exhilarating circumstances, and he meant to enjoy it.
to be sure, he was very hungry, but that, he reflected, was only what he would probably be many times before he made his fortune, and it was just as well to get used to it.
meanwhile, it behooved him to keep his eyes open.
on the road from roxbury to belltown there was not much to be seen that morning that chester did not see.
the train reached belltown about noon.
he did not mean to stop long there -- it was too near upton.
from the conductor on the train, he found that a boat left belltown for montrose at two in the afternoon.
montrose was a hundred miles from upton, and chester thought he would be safe there.
to montrose, accordingly, he decided to go, but the first thing was to get some dinner.
he went into a grocery store and bought some crackers and a bit of cheese.
he had somewhere picked up the idea that crackers and cheese were about as economical food as you could find for adventurous youths starting out on small capital.
he found his way to the only public square belltown boasted, and munched his food hungrily on a bench under the trees.
he would go to montrose and there find something to do.
later on he would gradually work his way out west, where there was more room for an ambitious small boy to expand and grow.
chester dreamed some dazzling dreams as he sat there on the bench under the belltown chestnuts.
passers-by, if they noticed him at all, saw merely a rather small, poorly clad boy, with a great many freckles, a square jaw and shrewd, level-gazing grey eyes.
but this same lad was mapping out a very brilliant future for himself as people passed him heedlessly by.
he would get out west, somehow or other, some time or other, and make a fortune.
then, perhaps, he would go back to upton for a visit and shine in his splendour before all his old neighbours.
it all seemed very easy and alluring, sitting there in the quiet little belltown square.
chester, you see, possessed imagination.
that, together with the crackers and cheese, so cheered him up that he felt ready for anything.
he was aroused from a dream of passing aunt harriet by in lofty scorn and a glittering carriage, by the shrill whistle of the boat.
chester pocketed his remaining crackers and cheese and his visions also, and was once more his alert, wide-awake self.
he had inquired the way to the wharf from the grocer, so he found no difficulty in reaching it.
when the boat steamed down the muddy little river, chester was on board of her.
he was glad to be out of belltown, for he was anything but sure that he would not encounter some upton people as long as he was in it.
they often went to belltown on business, but never to montrose.
there were not many passengers on the boat, and chester scrutinized them all so sharply in turn that he could have sworn to each and every one of them for years afterwards had it been necessary.
the one he liked best was a middle-aged lady who sat just before him on the opposite side of the deck she was plump and motherly looking, with a fresh, rosy face and beaming blue eyes.
""if i was looking for anyone to adopt me i'd pick her," said chester to himself.
the more he looked at her, the better he liked her.
he labelled her in his mind as "the nice, rosy lady."
the nice, rosy lady noticed chester staring at her after awhile.
she smiled promptly at him -- a smile that seemed fairly to irradiate her round face -- and then began fumbling in an old-fashioned reticule she carried, and from which she presently extracted a chubby little paper bag.
""if you like candy, little boy," she said to chester, "here is some of my sugar taffy for you."
chester did not exactly like being called a little boy.
but her voice and smile were irresistible and won his heart straightway.
he took the candy with a shy, "thank you, ma'am," and sat holding it in his hand.
""eat it," commanded the rosy lady authoritatively.
""that is what taffy is for, you know."
so chester ate it.
it was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted in his life, and filled a void which even the crackers and cheese had left vacant.
the rosy lady watched every mouthful he ate as if she enjoyed it more than he did.
when he had finished the taffy she smiled one of her sociable smiles again and said, "well, what do you think of it?"
""it's the nicest taffy i ever ate," answered chester enthusiastically, as if he were a connoisseur in all kinds of taffies.
the rosy lady nodded, well pleased.
""that is just what everyone says about my sugar taffy.
nobody up our way can match it, though goodness knows they try hard enough.
my great-grandmother invented the recipe herself, and it has been in our family ever since.
i'm real glad you liked it."
she smiled at him again, as if his appreciation of her taffy was a bond of good fellowship between them.
she did not know it but, nevertheless, she was filling the heart of a desperate small boy, who had run away from home, with hope and encouragement and self-reliance.
if there were such kind folks as this in the world, why, he would get along all right.
the rosy lady's smiles and taffy -- the smiles much more than the taffy -- went far to thaw out of him a certain hardness and resentfulness against people in general that aunt harriet's harsh treatment had instilled into him.
chester instantly made a resolve that when he grew stout and rosy and prosperous he would dispense smiles and taffy and good cheer generally to all forlorn small boys on boats and trains.
it was almost dark when they reached montrose.
chester lost sight of the rosy lady when they left the boat, and it gave him a lonesome feeling; but he could not indulge in that for long at a time.
here he was at his destination -- at dark, in a strange city a hundred miles from home.
""the first thing is to find somewhere to sleep," he said to himself, resolutely declining to feel frightened, although the temptation was very strong.
montrose was not really a very big place.
it was only a bustling little town of some twenty thousand inhabitants, but to chester's eyes it was a vast metropolis.
he had never been in any place bigger than belltown, and in belltown you could see one end of it, at least, no matter where you were.
montrose seemed endless to chester as he stood at the head of water street and gazed in bewilderment along one of its main business avenues -- a big, glittering, whirling place where one small boy could so easily be swallowed up that he would never be heard of again.
chester, after paying his fare to montrose and buying his cheese and crackers, had just sixty cents left.
this must last him until he found work, so that the luxury of lodgings was out of the question, even if he had known where to look for them.
to be sure, there were benches in a public square right in front of him; but chester was afraid that if he curled up on one of them for the night, a policeman might question him, and he did not believe he could give a very satisfactory account of himself.
in his perplexity, he thought of his cosy lumber pile at roxbury station and remembered that when he had left the boat he had noticed a large vacant lot near the wharf which was filled with piles of lumber.
back to this he went and soon succeeded in finding a place to stow himself.
his last waking thought was that he must be up and doing bright and early the next morning, and that it must surely be longer than twenty-four hours since he had crept downstairs and out of aunt harriet's porch window at upton.
* * * * * montrose seemed less alarming by daylight, which was not so bewildering as the blinking electric lights.
chester was up betimes, ate the last of his cheese and crackers and started out at once to look for work.
he determined to be thorough, and he went straight into every place of business he came to, from a blacksmith's forge to a department store, and boldly asked the first person he met if they wanted a boy there.
there was, however, one class of places chester shunned determinedly.
he never went into a liquor saloon.
the last winter he had been allowed to go to school in upton, his teacher had been a pale, patient little woman who hated the liquor traffic with all her heart.
she herself had suffered bitterly through it, and she instilled into her pupils a thorough aversion to it.
chester would have chosen death by starvation before he would have sought for employment in a liquor saloon.
but there certainly did not seem room for him anywhere else.
nobody wanted a boy.
the answer to his question was invariably "no."
as the day wore on, chester's hopes and courage went down to zero, but he still tramped doggedly about.
he would be thorough, at least.
surely somewhere in this big place, where everyone seemed so busy, there must be something for him to do.
once there seemed a chance of success.
he had gone into a big provision store and asked the clerk behind the counter if they wanted a boy.
""well, we do," said the clerk, looking him over critically, "but i hardly think you'll fill the bill.
however, come in and see the boss."
he took chester into a dark, grimy little inner office where a fat, stubby man was sitting before a desk with his feet upon it.
""hey?
what!"
he said when the clerk explained.
""looking for the place?
why, sonny, you're not half big enough."
""oh, i'm a great deal bigger than i look," cried chester breathlessly.
""that is, sir -- i mean i'm ever so much stronger than i look.
i'll work hard, sir, ever so hard -- and i'll grow."
the fat, stubby man roared with laughter.
what was grim earnest to poor chester was a joke to him.
""no doubt you will, my boy," he said genially, "but i'm afraid you'll hardly grow fast enough to suit us.
boys are n't like pigweed, you know.
no, no, our boy must be a big, strapping fellow of eighteen or nineteen.
he'll have a deal of heavy lifting to do."
chester went out of the store with a queer choking in his throat.
for one horrible moment he thought he was going to cry -- he, chester stephens, who had run away from home to do splendid things!
a nice ending that would be to his fine dreams!
he thrust his hands into his pockets and strode along the street, biting his lips fiercely.
he would not cry -- no, he would not!
and he would find work!
chester did not cry, but neither, alas, did he find work.
he parted with ten cents of his precious hoard for more crackers, and he spend the night again in the lumber yard.
perhaps i'll have better luck tomorrow, he thought hopefully.
but it really seemed as if there were to be no luck for chester except bad luck.
day after day passed and, although he tramped resolutely from street to street and visited every place that seemed to offer any chance, he could get no employment.
in spite of his pluck, his heart began to fail him.
at the end of a week chester woke up among his lumber to a realization that he was at the end of his resources.
he had just five cents left out of the four dollars that were to have been the key to his fortune.
he sat gloomily on the wall of his sleeping apartment and munched the one solitary cracker he had left.
it must carry him through the day unless he got work.
the five cents must be kept for some dire emergency.
he started uptown rather aimlessly.
in his week's wanderings he had come to know the city very well and no longer felt confused with its size and bustle.
he envied every busy boy he saw.
back in upton he had sometimes resented the fact that he was kept working continually and was seldom allowed an hour off.
now he was burdened with spare time.
it certainly did not seem as if things were fairly divided, he thought.
and then he thought no more just then, for one of the queer spells in his head came on.
he had experienced them at intervals during the last three days.
something seemed to break loose in his head and spin wildly round and round, while houses and people and trees danced and wobbled all about him.
chester vaguely wondered if this could be what aunt harriet had been wont to call a "judgement."
but then, he had done nothing very bad -- nothing that would warrant a judgement, he thought.
it was surely no harm to run away from a place where you were treated so bad and where they did not seem to want you.
chester felt bitter whenever he thought of aunt harriet.
presently he found himself in the market square of montrose.
it was market day, and the place was thronged with people from the surrounding country settlements.
chester had hoped that he might pick up a few cents, holding a horse or cow for somebody or carrying a market basket, but no such chance offered itself.
he climbed up on some bales of pressed hay in one corner and sat there moodily; there was dejection in the very dangle of his legs over the bales.
chester, you see, was discovering what many a boy before him has discovered -- that it is a good deal easier to sit down and make a fortune in dreams than it is to go out into the world and make it.
two men were talking to each other near him.
at first chester gave no heed to their conversation, but presently a sentence made him prick up his ears.
""yes, there's a pretty fair crop out at hopedale," one man was saying, "but whether it's going to be got in in good shape is another matter.
it's terrible hard to get any help.
every spare man-jack far and wide has gone west on them everlasting harvest excursions.
salome whitney at the mount hope farm is in a predicament.
she's got a hired man, but he ca n't harvest grain all by himself.
she spent the whole of yesterday driving around, trying to get a couple of men or boys to help him, but i dunno if she got anyone or not."
the men moved out of earshot at this juncture, but chester got down from the bales with a determined look.
if workers were wanted in hopedale, that was the place for him.
he had done a man's work at harvest time in upton the year before.
lige barton had said so himself.
hope and courage returned with a rush.
he accosted the first man he met and asked if he could tell him the way to hopedale.
""reckon i can, sonny.
i live in the next district.
want to go there?
if you wait till evening, i can give you a lift part of the way.
it's five miles out."
""thank you, sir," said chester firmly, "but i must go at once if you'll kindly direct me.
it's important."
""well, it's a straight road.
that's albemarle street down there -- follow it till it takes you out to the country, and then keep straight on till you come to a church painted yellow and white.
turn to your right, and over the hill is hopedale.
but you'd better wait for me.
you do n't look fit to walk five miles."
but chester was off.
walk five miles!
pooh!
he could walk twenty with hope to lure him on.
albemarle street finally frayed off into a real country road.
chester was glad to find himself out in the country once more, with the great golden fields basking on either side and the wooded hills beyond, purple with haze.
he had grown to hate the town with its cold, unheeding faces.
it was good to breathe clear air again and feel the soft, springy soil of the ferny roadside under his tired little feet.
long before the five miles were covered, chester began to wonder if he would hold out to the end of them.
he had to stop and rest frequently, when those queer dizzy spells came on.
his feet seemed like lead.
but he kept doggedly on.
he would not give in now!
the white and yellow church was the most welcome sight that had ever met his eyes.
over the hill he met a man and inquired the way to mount hope farm.
fortunately, it was nearby.
at the gate chester had to stop again to recover from his dizziness.
he liked the look of the place, with its great, comfortable barns and quaint, roomy old farmhouse, all set down in a trim quadrangle of beeches and orchards.
there was an appearance of peace and prosperity about it.
if only miss salome whitney will hire me!
thought chester wistfully, as he crept up the slope.
i'm afraid she'll say i'm too small.
wisht i could stretch three inches all at once.
wisht i was n't so dizzy.
wisht -- what chester's third wish was will never be known, for just as he reached the kitchen door the worst dizzy spell of all came on.
trees, barns, well-sweep, all whirled around him with the speed of wind.
he reeled and fell, a limp, helpless little body, on miss salome whitney's broad, spotless sandstone doorstep.
* * * * * in the mount hope kitchen miss salome was at that moment deep in discussion with her "help" over the weighty question of how the damsons were to be preserved.
miss salome wanted them boiled; clemantiny bosworth, the help, insisted that they ought to be baked.
clemantiny was always very positive.
she had "bossed" miss salome for years, and both knew that in the end the damsons would be baked, but the argument had to be carried out for dignity's sake.
""they're so sour when they're baked," protested miss salome.
""well, you do n't want damsons sweet, do you?"
retorted clemantiny scornfully.
""that's the beauty of damsons -- their tartness.
and they keep ever so much better baked, salome -- you know they do.
my grandmother always baked hers, and they would keep for three years."
miss salome knew that when clemantiny dragged her grandmother into the question, it was time to surrender.
beyond that, dignity degenerated into stubbornness.
it would be useless to say that she did not want to keep her damsons for three years, and that she was content to eat them up and trust to providence for the next year's supply.
""well, well, bake them then," she said placidly.
""i do n't suppose it makes much difference one way or another.
only, i insist -- what was that noise, clemantiny?
it sounded like something falling against the porch door."
""it's that worthless dog of martin's, i suppose," said clemantiny, grasping a broom handle with a grimness that boded ill for the dog.
""mussing up my clean doorstep with his dirty paws again.
i'll fix him!"
clemantiny swept out through the porch and jerked open the door.
there was a moment's silence.
then miss salome heard her say, "for the land's sake!
salome whitney, come here."
what miss salome saw when she hurried out was a white-faced boy stretched on the doorstep at clemantiny's feet.
""is he dead?"
she gasped.
""dead?
no," sniffed clemantiny.
""he's fainted, that's what he is.
where on earth did he come from?
he ai n't a hopedale boy."
""he must be carried right in," exclaimed miss salome in distress.
""why, he may die there.
he must be very ill."
""looks more to me as if he had fainted from sheer starvation," returned clemantiny brusquely as she picked him up in her lean, muscular arms.
""why, he's skin and bone.
he ai n't hardly heavier than a baby.
well, this is a mysterious piece of work.
where'll i put him?"
""lay him on the sofa," said miss salome as soon as she had recovered from the horror into which clemantiny's starvation dictum had thrown her.
a child starving to death on her doorstep!
""what do you do for people in a faint, clemantiny?"
""wet their face -- and hist up their feet -- and loosen their collar," said clemantiny in a succession of jerks, doing each thing as she mentioned it.
""and hold ammonia to their nose.
run for the ammonia, salome.
look, will you?
skin and bone!"
but miss salome had gone for the ammonia.
there was a look on the boy's thin, pallid face that tugged painfully at her heart-strings.
when chester came back to consciousness with the pungency of the ammonia reeking through his head, he found himself lying on very soft pillows in a very big white sunny kitchen, where everything was scoured to a brightness that dazzled you.
bending over him was a tall, gaunt woman with a thin, determined face and snapping black eyes, and, standing beside her with a steaming bowl in her hand, was the nice rosy lady who had given him the taffy on the boat!
when he opened his eyes, miss salome knew him.
""why, it's the little boy i saw on the boat!"
she exclaimed.
""well, you've come to!"
said clemantiny, eyeing chester severely.
""and now perhaps you'll explain what you mean by fainting away on doorsteps and scaring people out of their senses."
chester thought that this must be the mistress of mount hope farm, and hastened to propitiate her.
""i'm sorry," he faltered feebly.
""i did n't mean to -- i --" "you're not to do any talking until you've had something to eat," snapped clemantiny inconsistently.
""here, open your mouth and take this broth.
pretty doings, i say!"
clemantiny spoke as sharply as aunt harriet had ever done, but somehow or other chester did not feel afraid of her and her black eyes.
she sat down by his side and fed him from the bowl of hot broth with a deft gentleness oddly in contrast with her grim expression.
chester thought he had never in all his life tasted anything so good as that broth.
the boy was really almost starved.
he drank every drop of it.
clemantiny gave a grunt of satisfaction as she handed the empty bowl and spoon to the silent, smiling miss salome.
""now, who are you and what do you want?"
she said.
chester had been expecting this question, and while coming along the hopedale road he had thought out an answer to it.
he began now, speaking the words slowly and gaspingly, as if reciting a hastily learned lesson.
""my name is chester benson.
i belong to upton up the country.
my folks are dead and i came to montrose to look for work, i've been there a week and could n't get anything to do.
i heard a man say that you wanted men to help in the harvest, so i came out to see if you'd hire me."
in spite of his weakness, chester's face turned very red before he got to the end of his speech.
he was new to deception.
to be sure, there was not, strictly speaking, an untrue word in it.
as for his name, it was chester benson stephens.
but for all that, chester could not have felt or looked more guilty if he had been telling an out-and-out falsehood at every breath.
""humph!"
said clemantiny in a dissatisfied tone.
""what on earth do you suppose a midget like you can do in the harvest field?
and we do n't want any more help, anyway.
we've got enough."
chester grew sick with disappointment.
but at this moment miss salome spoke up.
""no, we have n't, clemantiny.
we want another hand, and i'll hire you, chester -- that's your name, is n't it?
i'll give you good wages, too."
""now, salome!"
protested clemantiny.
but miss salome only said, "i've made up my mind, clemantiny."
clemantiny knew that when miss salome did make up her mind and announced it in that very quiet, very unmistakable tone, she was mistress of the situation and intended to remain so.
""oh, very well," she retorted.
""you'll please yourself, salome, of course.
i think it would be wiser to wait until you found out a little more about him."
""and have him starving on people's doorsteps in the meantime?"
questioned miss salome severely.
""well," returned clemantiny with the air of one who washes her hands of a doubtful proposition, "do n't blame me if you repent of it."
by this time chester had grasped the wonderful fact that his troubles were ended -- for a while, at least.
he raised himself up on one arm and looked gratefully at miss salome.
""thank you," he said.
""i'll work hard.
i'm used to doing a lot."
""there, there!"
said miss salome, patting his shoulder gently.
""lie down and rest.
dinner will be ready soon, and i guess you'll be ready for it."
to clemantiny she added in a low, gentle tone, "there's a look on his face that reminded me of johnny.
it came out so strong when he sat up just now that it made me feel like crying.
do n't you notice it, clemantiny?"
""ca n't say that i do," replied that energetic person, who was flying about the kitchen with a speed that made chester's head dizzy trying to follow her with his eyes.
""all i can see is freckles and bones -- but if you're satisfied, i am.
for law's sake, do n't fluster me, salome.
there's a hundred and one things to be done out of hand.
this frolic has clean dundered the whole forenoon's work."
after dinner chester decided that it was time to make himself useful.
""ca n't i go right to work now?"
he asked.
""we do n't begin harvest till tomorrow," said miss salome.
""you'd better rest this afternoon."
""oh, i'm all right now," insisted chester.
""i feel fine.
please give me something to do."
""you can go out and cut me some wood for my afternoon's baking," said clemantiny.
""and see you cut it short enough.
any other boy that's tried always gets it about two inches too long."
when he had gone out, she said scornfully to miss salome, "well, what do you expect that size to accomplish in a harvest field, salome whitney?"
""not very much, perhaps," said miss salome mildly.
""but what could i do?
you would n't have me turn the child adrift on the world again, would you, clemantiny?"
clemantiny did not choose to answer this appeal.
she rattled her dishes noisily into the dishpan.
""well, where are you going to put him to sleep?"
she demanded.
""the hands you've got will fill the kitchen chamber.
there's only the spare room left.
you'll hardly put him there, i suppose?
your philanthropy will hardly lead you as far as that."
when clemantiny employed big words and sarcasm at the same time, the effect was tremendous.
but miss salome did n't wilt.
""what makes you so prejudiced against him?"
she asked curiously.
""i'm not prejudiced against him.
but that story about himself did n't ring true.
i worked in upton years ago, and there were n't any bensons there then.
there's more behind that he has n't told.
i'd find out what it was before i took him into my house, that's all.
but i'm not prejudiced."
""well, well," said miss salome soothingly, "we must do the best we can for him.
it's a sort of duty.
and as for a room for him -- why, i'll put him in johnny's."
clemantiny opened her mouth and shut it again.
she understood that it would be a waste of breath to say anything more.
if miss salome had made up her mind to put this freckled, determined-looking waif, dropped on her doorstep from heaven knew where, into johnny's room, that was an end of the matter.
""but i'll not be surprised at anything after this," she muttered as she carried her dishes into the pantry.
""first a skinny little urchin goes and faints on her doorstep.
then she hires him and puts him in johnny's room.
johnny's room!
salome whitney, what do you mean?"
perhaps miss salome hardly knew what she meant.
but somehow her heart went out warmly to this boy.
in spite of clemantiny's sniffs, she held to the opinion that he looked like johnny.
johnny was a little nephew of hers.
she had taken him to bring up when his parents died, and she had loved him very dearly.
he had died four years ago, and since that time the little front room over the front porch had never been occupied.
it was just as johnny had left it.
beyond keeping it scrupulously clean, miss salome never allowed it to be disturbed.
and now a somewhat ragged lad from nowhere was to be put into it!
no wonder clemantiny shook her head when miss salome went up to air it.
* * * * * even clemantiny had to admit that chester was willing to work.
he split wood until she called him to stop.
then he carried in the wood-box full, and piled it so neatly that even the grim handmaiden was pleased.
after that, she sent him to the garden to pick the early beans.
in the evening he milked three cows and did all the chores, falling into the ways of the place with a deft adaptability that went far to soften clemantiny's heart.
""he's been taught to work somewheres," she admitted grudgingly, "and he's real polite and respectful.
but he looks too cute by half.
and his name is n't benson any more than mine.
when i called him "chester benson" out there in the cow-yard, he stared at me fer half a minute "sif i'd called him nebuchadnezzar."
when bedtime came, miss salome took chester up to a room whose whiteness and daintiness quite took away the breath of a lad who had been used to sleeping in garrets or hired men's kitchen chambers all his life.
later on miss salome came in to see if he was comfortable, and stood, with her candle in her hand, looking down very kindly at the thin, shrewd little face on the pillow.
""i hope you'll sleep real well here, chester," she said.
""i had a little boy once who used to sleep here.
you -- you look like him.
good night."
she bent over him and kissed his forehead.
chester had never been kissed by anyone before, so far as he could remember.
something came up in his throat that felt about as big as a pumpkin.
at the same moment he wished he could have told miss salome the whole truth about himself.
i might tell her in the morning, he thought, as he watched her figure passing out of the little porch chamber.
but on second thought he decided that this would never do.
he felt sure she would disapprove of his running away, and would probably insist upon his going straight back to upton or, at least, informing aunt harriet of his whereabouts.
no, he could not tell her.
clemantiny was an early riser, but when she came into the kitchen the next morning the fire was already made and chester was out in the yard with three of the five cows milked.
""humph!"
said clemantiny amiably.
""new brooms sweep clean."
but she gave him cream with his porridge that morning.
generally, all miss salome's hired hands got from clemantiny was skim milk.
miss salome's regular hired man lived in a little house down in the hollow.
he soon turned up, and the other two men she had hired for harvest also arrived.
martin, the man, looked chester over quizzically.
""what do you think you can do, sonny?"
""anything," said chester sturdily.
""i'm used to work."
""he's right," whispered clemantiny aside.
""he's smart as a steel trap.
but just you keep an eye on him all the same, martin."
chester soon proved his mettle in the harvest field.
in the brisk three weeks that followed, even clemantiny had to admit that he earned every cent of his wages.
his active feet were untiring and his wiry arms could pitch and stock with the best.
when the day's work was ended, he brought in wood and water for clemantiny, helped milk the cows, gathered the eggs, and made on his own responsibility a round of barns and outhouses to make sure that everything was snug and tight for the night.
""freckles-and-bones has been well trained somewhere," said clemantiny again.
it was hardly fair to put the bones in now, for chester was growing plump and hearty.
he had never been so happy in his life.
upton drudgery and that dreadful week in montrose seemed like a bad dream.
here, in the golden meadows of mount hope farm, he worked with a right good will.
the men liked him, and he soon became a favourite with them.
even clemantiny relented somewhat.
to be sure, she continued very grim, and still threw her words at him as if they were so many missiles warranted to strike home.
but chester soon learned that clemantiny's bark was worse than her bite.
she was really very good to him and fed him lavishly.
but she declared that this was only to put some flesh on him.
""it offends me to see bones sticking through anybody's skin like that.
we are n't used to such objects at mount hope farm, thank goodness.
yes, you may smile, salome.
i like him well enough, and i'll admit that he knows how to make himself useful, but i do n't trust him any more than ever i did.
he's mighty close about his past life.
you ca n't get any more out of him than juice out of a post.
i've tried, and i know."
but it was miss salome who had won chester's whole heart.
he had never loved anybody in his hard little life before.
he loved her with an almost dog-like devotion.
he forgot that he was working to earn money -- and make his fortune.
he worked to please miss salome.
she was good and kind and gentle to him, and his starved heart thawed and expanded in the sunshine of her atmosphere.
she went to the little porch room every night to kiss him good night.
chester would have been bitterly disappointed if she had failed to go.
she was greatly shocked to find out that he had never said his prayers before going to bed.
she insisted on teaching him the simple little one she had used herself when a child.
when chester found that it would please her, he said it every night.
there was nothing he would not have done for miss salome.
she talked a good deal to him about johnny and she gave him the jack-knife that johnny had owned.
""it belonged to a good, manly little boy once," she said, "and now i hope it belongs to another such."
""i ai n't very good," said chester repentantly, "but i'll try to be, miss salome -- honest, i will."
one day he heard miss salome speaking of someone who had run away from home.
""a wicked, ungrateful boy," she called him.
chester blushed until his freckles were drowned out in a sea of red, and clemantiny saw it, of course.
when did anything ever escape those merciless black eyes of clemantiny's?
""do you think it's always wrong for a fellow to run away, miss salome?"
he faltered.
""it ca n't ever be right," said miss salome decidedly.
""but if he was n't treated well -- and was jawed at -- and not let go to school?"
pleaded chester.
clemantiny gave miss salome a look as of one who would say, you're bat-blind if you ca n't read between the lines of that; but miss salome was placidly unconscious.
she was not really thinking of the subject at all, and did not guess that chester meant anything more than generalities.
""not even then," she said firmly.
""nothing can justify a boy for running away -- especially as jarvis colemen did -- never even left a word behind him to say where he'd gone.
his aunt thought he'd fallen into the river."
""do n't suppose she would have grieved much if he had," said clemantiny sarcastically, all the while watching chester, until he felt as if she were boring into his very soul and reading all his past life.
when the harvest season drew to a close, dismay crept into the soul of our hero.
where would he go now?
he hated to think of leaving mount hope farm and miss salome.
he would have been content to stay there and work as hard as he had ever worked at upton, merely for the roof over his head and the food he ate.
the making of a fortune seemed a small thing compared to the privilege of being near miss salome.
""but i suppose i must just up and go," he muttered dolefully.
one day miss salome had a conference with clemantiny.
at the end of it the latter said, "do as you please," in the tone she might have used to a spoiled child.
""but if you'd take my advice -- which you wo n't and never do -- you'd write to somebody in upton and make inquiries about him first.
what he says is all very well and he sticks to it marvellous, and there's no tripping him up.
but there's something behind, salome whitney -- mark my words, there's something behind."
""he looks so like johnny," said miss salome wistfully.
""and i suppose you think that covers a multitude of sins," said clemantiny contemptuously.
* * * * * on the day when the last load of rustling golden sheaves was carried into the big barn and stowed away in the dusty loft, miss salome called chester into the kitchen.
chester's heart sank as he obeyed the summons.
his time was up, and now he was to be paid his wages and sent away.
to be sure, martin had told him that morning that a man in east hopedale wanted a boy for a spell, and that he, martin, would see that he got the place if he wanted it.
but that did not reconcile him to leaving mount hope farm.
miss salome was sitting in her favourite sunny corner of the kitchen and clemantiny was flying around with double briskness.
the latter's thin lips were tightly set and disapproval was writ large in every flutter of her calico skirts.
""chester," said miss salome kindly, "your time is up today."
chester nodded.
for a moment he felt as he had felt when he left the provision store in montrose.
but he would not let clemantiny see him cry.
somehow, he would not have minded miss salome.
""what are you thinking of doing now?"
miss salome went on.
""there's a man at east hopedale wants a boy," said chester, "and martin says he thinks i'll suit."
""that is jonas smallman," said miss salome thoughtfully.
""he has the name of being a hard master.
it is n't right of me to say so, perhaps.
i really do n't know much about him.
but would n't you rather stay here with me for the winter, chester?"
""ma'am?
miss salome?"
stammered chester.
he heard clemantiny give a snort behind him and mutter, "clean infatuated -- clean infatuated," without in the least knowing what she meant.
""we really need a chore boy all the year round," said miss salome.
""martin has all he can do with the heavy work.
and there are the apples to be picked.
if you care to stay, you shall have your board and clothes for doing the odd jobs, and you can go to school all winter.
in the spring we will see what need be done then."
if he would care to stay!
chester could have laughed aloud.
his eyes were shining with joy as he replied, "oh, miss salome, i'll be so glad to stay!
i -- i -- did n't want to go away.
i'll try to do everything you want me to do.
i'll work ever so hard."
""humph!"
this, of course, was from clemantiny, as she set a pan of apples on the stove with an emphatic thud.
""nobody ever doubted your willingness to work.
pity everything else about you is n't as satisfactory."
""clemantiny!"
said miss salome rebukingly.
she put her arms about chester and drew him to her.
""then it is all settled, chester.
you are my boy now, and of course i shall expect you to be a good boy."
if ever a boy was determined to be good, that boy was chester.
that day was the beginning of a new life for him.
he began to go to the hopedale school the next week.
miss salome gave him all johnny's old school books and took an eager interest in his studies.
chester ought to have been very happy, and at first he was; but as the bright, mellow days of autumn passed by, a shadow came over his happiness.
he could not help thinking that he had really deceived miss salome, and was deceiving her still -- miss salome, who had such confidence in him.
he was not what he pretended to be.
and as for his running away, he felt sure that miss salome would view that with horror.
as the time passed by and he learned more and more what a high standard of honour and truth she had, he felt more and more ashamed of himself.
when she looked at him with her clear, trustful, blue eyes, chester felt as guilty as if he had systematically deceived her with intent to do harm.
he began to wish that he had the courage to tell her the whole truth about himself.
moreover, he began to think that perhaps he had not done right, after all, in running away from aunt harriet.
in miss salome's code nothing could be right that was underhanded, and chester was very swiftly coming to look at things through miss salome's eyes.
he felt sure that johnny would never have acted as he had, and if chester now had one dear ambition on earth, it was to be as good and manly a fellow as johnny must have been.
but he could never be that as long as he kept the truth about himself from miss salome.
""that boy has got something on his mind," said the terrible clemantiny, who, chester felt convinced, could see through a stone wall.
""nonsense!
what could he have on his mind?"
said miss salome.
but she said it a little anxiously.
she, too, had noticed chester's absent ways and abstracted face.
""goodness me, i do n't know!
i do n't suppose he has robbed a bank or murdered anybody.
but he is worrying over something, as plain as plain."
""he is getting on very well at school," said miss salome.
""his teacher says so, and he is very eager to learn.
i do n't know what can be troubling him."
she was fated not to know for a fortnight longer.
during that time chester fought out his struggle with himself, and conquered.
he must tell miss salome, he decided, with a long sigh.
he knew that it would mean going back to upton and aunt harriet and the old, hard life, but he would not sail under false colours any longer.
* * * * * chester went into the kitchen one afternoon when he came home from school, with his lips set and his jaws even squarer than usual.
miss salome was making some of her famous taffy, and clemantiny was spinning yarn on the big wheel.
""miss salome," said chester desperately, "if you're not too busy, there is something i'd like to tell you."
""what is it?"
asked miss salome good-humouredly, turning to him with her spoon poised in midair over her granite saucepan.
""it's about myself.
i -- i -- oh, miss salome, i did n't tell you the truth about myself.
i've got to tell it now.
my name is n't benson -- exactly -- and i ran away from home."
""dear me!"
said miss salome mildly.
she dropped her spoon, handle and all, into the taffy and never noticed it.
""dear me, chester!"
""i knew it," said clemantiny triumphantly.
""i knew it -- and i always said it.
run away, did you?"
""yes'm.
my name is chester benson stephens, and i lived at upton with aunt harriet elwell.
but she ai n't any relation to me, really.
she's only father's stepsister.
she -- she -- was n't kind to me and she would n't let me go to school -- so i ran away."
""but, dear me, chester, did n't you know that was very wrong?"
said miss salome in bewilderment.
""no'm -- i did n't know it then.
i've been thinking lately that maybe it was.
i'm -- i'm real sorry."
""what did you say your real name was?"
demanded clemantiny.
""stephens, ma'am."
""and your mother's name before she was married?"
""mary morrow," said chester, wondering what upon earth clemantiny meant.
clemantiny turned to miss salome with an air of surrendering a dearly cherished opinion.
""well, ma'am, i guess you must be right about his looking like johnny.
i must say i never could see the resemblance, but it may well be there, for he -- that very fellow there -- and johnny are first cousins.
their mothers were sisters!"
""clemantiny!"
exclaimed miss salome.
""you may well say "clemantiny."
such a coincidence!
it does n't make you and him any relation, of course -- the cousinship is on the mother's side.
but it's there.
mary morrow was born and brought up in hopedale.
she went to upton when i did, and married oliver stephens there.
why, i knew his father as well as i know you."
""this is wonderful," said miss salome.
then she added sorrowfully, "but it does n't make your running away right, chester."
""tell us all about it," demanded clemantiny, sitting down on the wood-box.
""sit down, boy, sit down -- do n't stand there looking as if you were on trial for your life.
tell us all about it."
thus adjured, chester sat down and told them all about it -- his moonlight flitting and his adventures in montrose.
miss salome exclaimed with horror over the fact of his sleeping in a pile of lumber for seven nights, but clemantiny listened in silence, never taking her eyes from the boy's pale face.
when chester finished, she nodded.
""we've got it all now.
there's nothing more behind, salome.
it would have been better for you to have told as straight a story at first, young man."
chester knew that, but, having no reply to make, made none.
miss salome looked at him wistfully.
""but, with it all, you did n't do right to run away, chester," she said firmly.
""i dare say your aunt was severe with you -- but two wrongs never make a right, you know."
""no'm," said chester.
""you must go back to your aunt," continued miss salome sadly.
chester nodded.
he knew this, but he could not trust himself to speak.
then did clemantiny arise in her righteous indignation.
""well, i never heard of such nonsense, salome whitney!
what on earth do you want to send him back for?
i knew harriet elwell years ago, and if she's still what she was then, it ai n't much wonder chester ran away from her.
i'd say "run," too.
go back, indeed!
you keep him right here, as you should, and let harriet elwell look somewhere else for somebody to scold!"
""clemantiny!"
expostulated miss salome.
""oh, i must and will speak my mind, salome.
there's no one else to take chester's part, it seems.
you have as much claim on him as harriet elwell has.
she ai n't any real relation to him any more than you are."
miss salome looked troubled.
perhaps there was something in clemantiny's argument.
and she hated to think of seeing chester go.
he looked more like johnny than ever, as he stood there with his flushed face and wistful eyes.
""chester," she said gravely, "i leave it to you to decide.
if you think you ought to go back to your aunt, well and good.
if not, you shall stay here."
this was the hardest yet.
chester wished she had not left the decision to him.
it was like cutting off his own hand.
but he spoke up manfully.
""i -- i think i ought to go back, miss salome, and i want to pay back the money, too."
""i think so, too, chester, although i'm sorry as sorry can be.
i'll go back to upton with you.
we'll start tomorrow.
if, when we get there, your aunt is willing to let you stay with me, you can come back."
""there's a big chance of that!"
said clemantiny sourly.
""a woman's likely to give up a boy like chester -- a good, steady worker and as respectful and obliging as there is between this and sunset -- very likely, is n't she!
well, this taffy is all burnt to the saucepan and clean ruined -- but what's the odds!
all i hope, salome whitney, is that the next time you adopt a boy and let him twine himself "round a person's heart, you'll make sure first that you are going to stick to it.
i do n't like having my affections torn up by the roots."
clemantiny seized the saucepan and disappeared with it into the pantry amid a whirl of pungent smoke.
mount hope farm was a strangely dismal place that night.
miss salome sighed heavily and often as she made her preparations for the morrow's journey.
clemantiny stalked about with her grim face grimmer than ever.
as for chester, when he went to bed that night in the little porch chamber, he cried heartily into his pillows.
he did n't care for pride any longer; he just cried and did n't even pretend he was n't crying when miss salome came in to sit by him a little while and talk to him.
that talk comforted chester.
he realized that, come what might, he would always have a good friend in miss salome -- aye, and in clemantiny, too.
chester never knew it, but after he had fallen asleep, with the tears still glistening on his brown cheeks, clemantiny tiptoed silently in with a candle in her hand and bent over him with an expression of almost maternal tenderness on her face.
it was late and an aroma of boiling sugar hung about her.
she had sat up long after miss salome was abed, to boil another saucepan of taffy for chester to eat on his journey.
""poor, dear child!"
she said, softly touching one of his crisp curls.
""it's a shame in salome to insist on his going back.
she does n't know what she's sending him to, or she would n't.
he did n't say much against his aunt, and salome thinks she was only just a little bit cranky.
but i could guess."
early in the morning miss salome and chester started.
they were to drive to montrose, leave their team there and take the boat for belltown.
chester bade farewell to the porch chamber and the long, white kitchen and the friendly barns with a full heart.
when he climbed into the wagon, clemantiny put a big bagful of taffy into his hands.
""good-by, chester," she said.
""and remember, you've always got a friend in me, anyhow."
then clemantiny went back into the kitchen and cried -- good, rough-spoken, tender-hearted clemantiny sat down and cried.
it was an ideal day for travelling -- crisp, clear and sunny -- but neither chester nor miss salome was in a mood for enjoyment.
back over chester's runaway route they went, and reached belltown on the boat that evening.
they stayed in belltown overnight and in the morning took the train to roxbury station.
here miss salome hired a team from the storekeeper and drove out to upton.
chester felt his heart sink as they drove into the elwell yard.
how well he knew it!
miss salome tied her hired nag to the gatepost and took chester by the hand.
they went to the door and knocked.
it was opened with a jerk and mrs. elwell stood before them.
she had probably seen them from the window, for she uttered no word of surprise at seeing chester again.
indeed, she said nothing at all, but only stood rigidly before them.
dear me, what a disagreeable-looking woman!
thought miss salome.
but she said courteously, "are you mrs. elwell?"
""i am," said that lady forbiddingly.
""i've brought your nephew home," continued miss salome, laying her hand encouragingly on chester's shrinking shoulder.
""i have had him hired for some time on my farm at hopedale, but i did n't know until yesterday that he had run away from you.
when he told me about it, i thought he ought to come straight back and return your four dollars, and so did he.
so i have brought him."
""you might have saved yourself the trouble then!"
cried mrs. elwell shrilly.
her black eyes flashed with anger.
""i'm done with him and do n't want the money.
run away when there was work to do, and thinks he can come back now that it's all done and loaf all winter, does he?
he shall never enter my house again."
""that he shall not!"
cried miss salome, at last finding her tongue.
her gentle nature was grievously stirred by the heartlessness shown in the face and voice of mrs. elwell.
""that he shall not!"
she cried again.
""but he shall not want for a home as long as i have one to give him.
come, chester, we'll go home."
""i wish you well of him," mrs. elwell said sarcastically.
miss salome already repented her angry retort.
she was afraid she had been undignified, but she wished for a moment that clemantiny was there.
wicked as she feared it was, miss salome thought she could have enjoyed a tilt between her ancient handmaid and mrs. elwell.
""i beg your pardon, mrs. elwell, if i have used any intemperate expressions," she said with great dignity.
""you provoked me more than was becoming by your remarks.
i wish you good morning."
mrs. elwell slammed the door shut.
with her cheeks even more than usually rosy, miss salome led chester down to the gate, untied her horse and drove out of the yard.
not until they reached the main road did she trust herself to speak to the dazed lad beside her.
""what a disagreeable women!"
she ejaculated at last.
""i do n't wonder you ran away, chester -- i do n't, indeed!
though, mind you, i do n't think it was right, for all that.
but i'm gladder than words can say that she would n't take you back.
you are mine now, and you will stay mine.
i want you to call me aunt salome after this.
get up, horse!
if we can catch that train at roxbury, we'll be home by night yet."
chester was too happy to speak.
he had never felt so glad and grateful in his life before.
they got home that night just as the sun was setting redly behind the great maples on the western hill.
as they drove into the yard, clemantiny's face appeared, gazing at them over the high board fence of the cow-yard.
chester waved his hand at her gleefully.
""lawful heart!"
said clemantiny.
she set down her pail and came out to the lane on a run.
she caught chester as he sprang from the wagon and gave him a hearty hug.
""i'm glad clean down to my boot soles to see you back again," she said.
""he's back for good," said miss salome.
""chester, you'd better go in and study up your lessons for tomorrow."
the strike at putney the church at putney was one that gladdened the hearts of all the ministers in the presbytery whenever they thought about it.
it was such a satisfactory church.
while other churches here and there were continually giving trouble in one way or another, the putneyites were never guilty of brewing up internal or presbyterial strife.
the exeter church people were always quarrelling among themselves and carrying their quarrels to the courts of the church.
the very name of exeter gave the members of presbytery the cold creeps.
but the putney church people never quarrelled.
danbridge church was in a chronic state of ministerlessness.
no minister ever stayed in danbridge longer than he could help.
the people were too critical, and they were also noted heresy hunters.
good ministers fought shy of danbridge, and poor ones met with a chill welcome.
the harassed presbytery, worn out with "supplying," were disposed to think that the millennium would come if ever the danbridgians got a minister whom they liked.
at putney they had had the same minister for fifteen years and hoped and expected to have him for fifteen more.
they looked with horror-stricken eyes on the danbridge theological coquetries.
bloom valley church was over head and heels in debt and had no visible prospect of ever getting out.
the moderator said under his breath that they did over-much praying and too little hoeing.
he did not believe in faith without works.
tarrytown road kept its head above water but never had a cent to spare for missions or the schemes of the church.
in bright and shining contradistinction to these the putney church had always paid its way and gave liberally to all departments of church work.
if other springs of supply ran dry the putneyites enthusiastically got up a "tea" or a "social," and so raised the money.
naturally the "heft" of this work fell on the women, but they did not mind -- in very truth, they enjoyed it.
the putney women had the reputation of being "great church workers," and they plumed themselves on it, putting on airs at conventions among the less energetic women of the other churches.
they were especially strong on societies.
there was the church aid society, the girls" flower band, and the sewing circle.
there was a mission band and a helping hand among the children.
and finally there was the women's foreign mission auxiliary, out of which the whole trouble grew which convulsed the church at putney for a brief time and furnished a standing joke in presbyterial circles for years afterwards.
to this day ministers and elders tell the story of the putney church strike with sparkling eyes and subdued chuckles.
it never grows old or stale.
but the putney elders are an exception.
they never laugh at it.
they never refer to it.
it is not in the wicked, unregenerate heart of man to make a jest of his own bitter defeat.
it was in june that the secretary of the putney w.f.m. auxiliary wrote to a noted returned missionary who was touring the country, asking her to give an address on mission work before their society.
mrs. cotterell wrote back saying that her brief time was so taken up already that she found it hard to make any further engagements, but she could not refuse the putney people who were so well and favourably known in mission circles for their perennial interest and liberality.
so, although she could not come on the date requested, she would, if acceptable, come the following sunday.
this suited the putney auxiliary very well.
on the sunday referred to there was to be no evening service in the church owing to mr. sinclair's absence.
they therefore appointed the missionary meeting for that night, and made arrangements to hold it in the church itself, as the classroom was too small for the expected audience.
then the thunderbolt descended on the w.f.m.a. of putney from a clear sky.
the elders of the church rose up to a man and declared that no woman should occupy the pulpit of the putney church.
it was in direct contravention to the teachings of st. paul.
to make matters worse, mr. sinclair declared himself on the elders" side.
he said that he could not conscientiously give his consent to a woman occupying his pulpit, even when that woman was mrs. cotterell and her subject foreign missions.
the members of the auxiliary were aghast.
they called a meeting extraordinary in the classroom and, discarding all forms and ceremonies in their wrath, talked their indignation out.
out of doors the world basked in june sunshine and preened itself in blossom.
the birds sang and chirped in the lichened maples that cupped the little church in, and peace was over all the putney valley.
inside the classroom disgusted women buzzed like angry bees.
""what on earth are we to do?"
sighed the secretary plaintively.
mary kilburn was always plaintive.
she sat on the steps of the platform, being too wrought up in her mind to sit in her chair at the desk, and her thin, faded little face was twisted with anxiety.
""all the arrangements are made and mrs. cotterell is coming on the tenth.
how can we tell her that the men wo n't let her speak?"
""there was never anything like this in putney church before," groaned mrs. elder knox.
""it was andrew mckittrick put them up to it.
i always said that man would make trouble here yet, ever since he moved to putney from danbridge.
i've talked and argued with thomas until i'm dumb, but he is as set as a rock."
""i do n't see what business the men have to interfere with us anyhow," said her daughter lucy, who was sitting on one of the window-sills.
""we do n't meddle with them, i'm sure.
as if mrs. cotterell would contaminate the pulpit!"
""one would think we were still in the dark ages," said frances spenslow sharply.
frances was the putney schoolteacher.
her father was one of the recalcitrant elders and frances felt it bitterly -- all the more that she had tried to argue with him and had been sat upon as a "child who could n't understand."
""i'm more surprised at mr. sinclair than at the elders," said mrs. abner keech, fanning herself vigorously.
""elders are subject to queer spells periodically.
they think they assert their authority that way.
but mr. sinclair has always seemed so liberal and broad-minded."
""you never can tell what crotchet an old bachelor will take into his head," said alethea craig bitingly.
the others nodded agreement.
mr. sinclair's inveterate celibacy was a standing grievance with the putney women.
""if he had a wife who could be our president this would never have happened, i warrant you," said mrs. king sagely.
""but what are we going to do, ladies?"
said mrs. robbins briskly.
mrs. robbins was the president.
she was a big, bustling woman with clear blue eyes and crisp, incisive ways.
hitherto she had held her peace.
""they must talk themselves out before they can get down to business," she had reflected sagely.
but she thought the time had now come to speak.
""you know," she went on, "we can talk and rage against the men all day if we like.
they are not trying to prevent us.
but that will do no good.
here's mrs. cotterell invited, and all the neighbouring auxiliaries notified -- and the men wo n't let us have the church.
the point is, how are we going to get out of the scrape?"
a helpless silence descended upon the classroom.
the eyes of every woman present turned to myra wilson.
everyone could talk, but when it came to action they had a fashion of turning to myra.
she had a reputation for cleverness and originality.
she never talked much.
so far today she had not said a word.
she was sitting on the sill of the window across from lucy knox.
she swung her hat on her knee, and loose, moist rings of dark hair curled around her dark, alert face.
there was a sparkle in her grey eyes that boded ill to the men who were peaceably pursuing their avocations, rashly indifferent to what the women might be saying in the maple-shaded classroom.
""have you any suggestion to make, miss wilson?"
said mrs. robbins, with a return to her official voice and manner.
myra put her long, slender index finger to her chin.
""i think," she said decidedly, "that we must strike."
* * * * * when elder knox went in to tea that evening he glanced somewhat apprehensively at his wife.
they had had an altercation before she went to the meeting, and he supposed she had talked herself into another rage while there.
but mrs. knox was placid and smiling.
she had made his favourite soda biscuits for him and inquired amiably after his progress in hoeing turnips in the southeast meadow.
she made, however, no reference to the auxiliary meeting, and when the biscuits and the maple syrup and two cups of matchless tea had nerved the elder up, his curiosity got the better of his prudence -- for even elders are human and curiosity knows no gender -- and he asked what they had done at the meeting.
""we poor men have been shaking in our shoes," he said facetiously.
""were you?"
mrs. knox's voice was calm and faintly amused.
""well, you did n't need to.
we talked the matter over very quietly and came to the conclusion that the session knew best and that women had n't any right to interfere in church business at all."
lucy knox turned her head away to hide a smile.
the elder beamed.
he was a peace-loving man and disliked "ructions" of any sort and domestic ones in particular.
since the decision of the session mrs. knox had made his life a burden to him.
he did not understand her sudden change of base, but he accepted it very thankfully.
""that's right -- that's right," he said heartily.
""i'm glad to hear you coming out so sensible, maria.
i was afraid you'd work yourselves up at that meeting and let myra wilson or alethea craig put you up to some foolishness or other.
well, i guess i'll jog down to the corner this evening and order that barrel of pastry flour you want."
""oh, you need n't," said mrs. knox indifferently.
""we wo n't be needing it now."
""not needing it!
but i thought you said you had to have some to bake for the social week after next."
""there is n't going to be any social."
""not any social?"
elder knox stared perplexedly at his wife.
a month previously the putney church had been recarpeted, and they still owed fifty dollars for it.
this, the women declared, they would speedily pay off by a big cake and ice-cream social in the hall.
mrs. knox had been one of the foremost promoters of the enterprise.
""not any social?"
repeated the elder again.
""then how is the money for the carpet to be got?
and why is n't there going to be a social?"
""the men can get the money somehow, i suppose," said mrs. knox.
""as for the social, why, of course, if women are n't good enough to speak in church they are not good enough to work for it either.
lucy, dear, will you pass me the cookies?"
""lucy dear" passed the cookies and then rose abruptly and left the table.
her father's face was too much for her.
""what confounded nonsense is this?"
demanded the elder explosively.
mrs. knox opened her mellow brown eyes widely, as if in amazement at her husband's tone.
""i do n't understand you," she said.
""our position is perfectly logical."
she had borrowed that phrase from myra wilson, and it floored the elder.
he got up, seized his hat, and strode from the room.
that night, at jacob wherrison's store at the corner, the putney men talked over the new development.
the social was certainly off -- for a time, anyway.
""best let'em alone, i say," said wherrison.
""they're mad at us now and doing this to pay us out.
but they'll cool down later on and we'll have the social all right."
""but if they do n't," said andrew mckittrick gloomily, "who is going to pay for that carpet?"
this was an unpleasant question.
the others shirked it.
""i was always opposed to this action of the session," said alec craig.
""it would n't have hurt to have let the woman speak.
't is n't as if it was a regular sermon."
""the session knew best," said andrew sharply.
""and the minister -- you're not going to set your opinion up against his, are you, craig?"
""did n't know they taught such reverence for ministers in danbridge," retorted craig with a laugh.
""best let'em alone, as wherrison says," said abner keech.
""do n't see what else we can do," said john wilson shortly.
* * * * * on sunday morning the men were conscious of a bare, deserted appearance in the church.
mr. sinclair perceived it himself.
after some inward wondering he concluded that it was because there were no flowers anywhere.
the table before the pulpit was bare.
on the organ a vase held a sorry, faded bouquet left over from the previous week.
the floor was" unswept.
dust lay thickly on the pulpit bible, the choir chairs, and the pew backs.
""this church looks disgraceful," said john robbins in an angry undertone to his daughter polly, who was president of the flower band.
""what in the name of common sense is the good of your flower banders if you ca n't keep the place looking decent?"
""there is no flower band now, father," whispered polly in turn.
""we've disbanded.
women have n't any business to meddle in church matters.
you know the session said so."
it was well for polly that she was too big to have her ears boxed.
even so, it might not have saved her if they had been anywhere else than in church.
meanwhile the men who were sitting in the choir -- three basses and two tenors -- were beginning to dimly suspect that there was something amiss here too.
where were the sopranos and the altos?
myra wilson and alethea craig and several other members of the choir were sitting down in their pews with perfectly unconscious faces.
myra was looking out of the window into the tangled sunlight and shadow of the great maples.
alethea craig was reading her bible.
presently frances spenslow came in.
frances was organist, but today, instead of walking up to the platform, she slipped demurely into her father's pew at one side of the pulpit.
eben craig, who was the putney singing master and felt himself responsible for the choir, fidgeted uneasily.
he tried to catch frances's eye, but she was absorbed in reading the mission report she had found in the rack, and eben was finally forced to tiptoe down to the spenslow pew and whisper, "miss spenslow, the minister is waiting for the doxology.
are n't you going to take the organ?"
frances looked up calmly.
her clear, placid voice was audible not only to those in the nearby pews, but to the minister.
""no, mr. craig.
you know if a woman is n't fit to speak in the church she ca n't be fit to sing in it either."
eben craig looked exceedingly foolish.
he tiptoed gingerly back to his place.
the minister, with an unusual flush on his thin, ascetic face, rose suddenly and gave out the opening hymn.
nobody who heard the singing in putney church that day ever forgot it.
untrained basses and tenors, unrelieved by a single female voice, are not inspiring.
there were no announcements of society meetings for the forthcoming week.
on the way home from church that day irate husbands and fathers scolded, argued, or pleaded, according to their several dispositions.
one and all met with the same calm statement that if a noble, self-sacrificing woman like mrs. cotterell were not good enough to speak in the putney church, ordinary, everyday women could not be fit to take any part whatever in its work.
sunday school that afternoon was a harrowing failure.
out of all the corps of teachers only one was a man, and he alone was at his post.
in the christian endeavour meeting on tuesday night the feminine element sat dumb and unresponsive.
the putney women never did things by halves.
the men held out for two weeks.
at the end of that time they "happened" to meet at the manse and talked the matter over with the harassed minister.
elder knox said gloomily, "it's this way.
nothing can move them women.
i know, for i've tried.
my authority has been set at naught in my own household.
and i'm laughed at if i show my face in any of the other settlements."
the sunday school superintendent said the sunday school was going to wrack and ruin, also the christian endeavour.
the condition of the church for dust was something scandalous, and strangers were making a mockery of the singing.
and the carpet had to be paid for.
he supposed they would have to let the women have their own way.
the next sunday evening after service mr. sinclair arose hesitatingly.
his face was flushed, and alethea craig always declared that he looked "just plain everyday cross."
he announced briefly that the session after due deliberation had concluded that mrs. cotterell might occupy the pulpit on the evening appointed for her address.
the women all over the church smiled broadly.
frances spenslow got up and went to the organ stool.
the singing in the last hymn was good and hearty.
going down the steps after dismissal mrs. elder knox caught the secretary of the church aid by the arm.
""i guess," she whispered anxiously, "you'd better call a special meeting of the aids at my house tomorrow afternoon.
if we're to get that social over before haying begins we've got to do some smart scurrying."
the strike in the putney church was over.
the unhappiness of miss farquhar frances farquhar was a beauty and was sometimes called a society butterfly by people who did n't know very much about it.
her father was wealthy and her mother came of an extremely blue-blooded family.
frances had been out for three years, and was a social favourite.
consequently, it may be wondered why she was unhappy.
in plain english, frances farquhar had been jilted -- just a commonplace, everyday jilting!
she had been engaged to paul holcomb; he was a very handsome fellow, somewhat too evidently aware of the fact, and frances was very deeply in love with him -- or thought herself so, which at the time comes to pretty much the same thing.
everybody in her set knew of her engagement, and all her girl friends envied her, for holcomb was a matrimonial catch.
then the crash came.
nobody outside the family knew exactly what did happen, but everybody knew that the holcomb-farquhar match was off, and everybody had a different story to account for it.
the simple truth was that holcomb was fickle and had fallen in love with another girl.
there was nothing of the man about him, and it did not matter to his sublimely selfish caddishness whether he broke frances farquhar's heart or not.
he got his freedom and he married maud carroll in six months" time.
the farquhars, especially ned, who was frances's older brother and seldom concerned himself about her except when the family honour was involved, were furious at the whole affair.
mr. farquhar stormed, and ned swore, and della lamented her vanished role of bridemaid.
as for mrs. farquhar, she cried and said it would ruin frances's future prospects.
the girl herself took no part in the family indignation meetings.
but she believed that her heart was broken.
her love and her pride had suffered equally, and the effect seemed disastrous.
after a while the farquhars calmed down and devoted themselves to the task of cheering frances up.
this they did not accomplish.
she got through the rest of the season somehow and showed a proud front to the world, not even flinching when holcomb himself crossed her path.
to be sure, she was pale and thin, and had about as much animation as a mask, but the same might be said of a score of other girls who were not suspected of having broken hearts.
when the summer came frances asserted herself.
the farquhars went to green harbour every summer.
but this time frances said she would not go, and stuck to it.
the whole family took turns coaxing her and had nothing to show for their pains.
""i'm going up to windy meadows to stay with aunt eleanor while you are at the harbour," she declared.
""she has invited me often enough."
ned whistled.
""jolly time you'll have of it, sis.
windy meadows is about as festive as a funeral.
and aunt eleanor is n't lively, to put it in the mildest possible way."
""i do n't care if she is n't.
i want to get somewhere where people wo n't look at me and talk about -- that," said frances, looking ready to cry.
ned went out and swore at holcomb again, and then advised his mother to humour frances.
accordingly, frances went to windy meadows.
windy meadows was, as ned had said, the reverse of lively.
it was a pretty country place, with a sort of fag-end by way of a little fishing village, huddled on a wind-swept bit of beach, locally known as the "cove."
aunt eleanor was one of those delightful people, so few and far between in this world, who have perfectly mastered the art of minding their own business exclusively.
she left frances in peace.
she knew that her niece had had "some love trouble or other," and had n't gotten over it rightly.
""it's always best to let those things take their course," said this philosophical lady to her "help" and confidant, margaret ann peabody.
""she'll get over it in time -- though she does n't think so now, bless you."
for the first fortnight frances revelled in a luxury of unhindered sorrow.
she could cry all night -- and all day too, if she wished -- without having to stop because people might notice that her eyes were red.
she could mope in her room all she liked.
and there were no men who demanded civility.
when the fortnight was over, aunt eleanor took crafty counsel with herself.
the letting-alone policy was all very well, but it would not do to have the girl die on her hands.
frances was getting paler and thinner every day -- and she was spoiling her eyelashes by crying.
""i wish," said aunt eleanor one morning at breakfast, while frances pretended to eat, "that i could go and take corona sherwood out for a drive today.
i promised her last week that i would, but i've never had time yet.
and today is baking and churning day.
it's a shame.
poor corona!"
""who is she?"
asked frances, trying to realize that there was actually someone in the world besides herself who was to be pitied.
""she is our minister's sister.
she has been ill with rheumatic fever.
she is better now, but does n't seem to get strong very fast.
she ought to go out more, but she is n't able to walk.
i really must try and get around tomorrow.
she keeps house for her brother at the manse.
he is n't married, you know."
frances did n't know, nor did she in the least degree care.
but even the luxury of unlimited grief palls, and frances was beginning to feel this vaguely.
she offered to go and take miss sherwood out driving.
""i've never seen her," she said, "but i suppose that does n't matter.
i can drive grey tom in the phaeton, if you like."
it was just what aunt eleanor intended, and she saw frances drive off that afternoon with a great deal of satisfaction.
""give my love to corona," she told her, "and say for me that she is n't to go messing about among those shore people until she's perfectly well.
the manse is the fourth house after you turn the third corner."
frances kept count of the corners and the houses and found the manse.
corona sherwood herself came to the door.
frances had been expecting an elderly personage with spectacles and grey crimps; she was surprised to find that the minister's sister was a girl of about her own age and possessed of a distinct worldly prettiness.
corona was dark, with a different darkness from that of frances, who had ivory outlines and blue-black hair, while corona was dusky and piquant.
her eyes brightened with delight when frances told her errand.
""how good of you and miss eleanor!
i am not strong enough to walk far yet -- or do anything useful, in fact, and elliott so seldom has time to take me out."
""where shall we go?"
asked frances when they started.
""i do n't know much about this locality."
""can we drive to the cove first?
i want to see poor little jacky hart.
he has been so sick --" "aunt eleanor positively forbade that," said frances dubiously.
""will it be safe to disobey her?"
corona laughed.
""miss eleanor blames my poor shore people for making me sick at first, but it was really not that at all.
and i want to see jacky hart so much.
he has been ill for some time with some disease of the spine and he is worse lately.
i'm sure miss eleanor wo n't mind my calling just to see him."
frances turned grey tom down the shore road that ran to the cove and past it to silvery, wind-swept sands, rimming sea expanses crystal clear.
jacky hart's home proved to be a tiny little place overflowing with children.
mrs. hart was a pale, tired-looking woman with the patient, farseeing eyes so often found among the women who watch sea and shore every day and night of their lives for those who sometimes never return.
she spoke of jacky with the apathy of hopelessness.
the doctor said he would not last much longer.
she told all her troubles unreservedly to corona in her monotonous voice.
her "man" was drinking again and the mackerel catch was poor.
when mrs. hart asked corona to go in and see jacky, frances went too.
the sick boy, a child with a delicate, wasted face and large, bright eyes, lay in a tiny bedroom off the kitchen.
the air was hot and heavy.
mrs. hart stood at the foot of the bed with her tragic face.
""we have to set up nights with him now," she said.
""it's awful hard on me and my man.
the neighbours are kind enough and come sometimes, but most of them have enough to do.
his medicine has to be given every half hour.
i've been up for three nights running now.
jabez was off to the tavern for two.
i'm just about played out."
she suddenly broke down and began to cry, or rather whimper, in a heart-broken way.
corona looked troubled.
""i wish i could come tonight, mrs. hart, but i'm afraid i'm really not strong enough yet."
""i do n't know much about sickness," spoke up frances firmly, "but if to sit by the child and give him his medicine regularly is all that is necessary, i am sure i can do that.
i'll come and sit up with jacky tonight if you care to have me."
afterwards, when she and corona were driving away, she wondered a good deal at herself.
but corona was so evidently pleased with her offer, and took it all so much as a matter of course, that frances had not the courage to display her wonder.
they had their drive through the great green bowl of the country valley, brimming over with sunshine, and afterwards corona made frances go home with her to tea.
rev. elliott sherwood had got back from his pastoral visitations, and was training his sweet peas in the way they should go against the garden fence.
he was in his shirt sleeves and wore a big straw hat, and seemed in nowise disconcerted thereby.
corona introduced him, and he took grey tom away and put him in the barn.
then he went back to his sweet peas.
he had had his tea, he said, so that frances did not see him again until she went home.
she thought he was a very indifferent young man, and not half so nice as his sister.
but she went and sat up with jacky hart that night, getting to the cove at dark, when the sea was a shimmer of fairy tints and the boats were coming in from the fishing grounds.
jacky greeted her with a wonderful smile, and later on she found herself watching alone by his bed.
the tiny lamp on the table burned dim, and outside, on the rocks, there was loud laughing and talking until a late hour.
afterwards a silence fell, through which the lap of the waves on the sands and the far-off moan of the atlantic surges came sonorously.
jacky was restless and wakeful, but did not suffer, and liked to talk.
frances listened to him with a new-born power of sympathy, which she thought she must have caught from corona.
he told her all the tragedy of his short life, and how bad he felt, about dad's taking to drink and mammy's having to work so hard.
the pitiful little sentences made frances's heart ache.
the maternal instinct of the true woman awoke in her.
she took a sudden liking to the child.
he was a spiritual little creature, and his sufferings had made him old and wise.
once in the night he told frances that he thought the angels must look like her.
""you are so sweet pretty," he said gravely.
""i never saw anyone so pretty, not even miss c'rona.
you look like a picture i once saw on mr. sherwood's table when i was up at the manse one day "fore i got so bad i could n't walk.
it was a woman with a li'l baby in her arms and a kind of rim round her head.
i would like something most awful much."
""what is it, dear?"
said frances gently.
""if i can get or do it for you, i will."
""you could," he said wistfully, "but maybe you wo n't want to.
but i do wish you'd come here just once every day and sit here five minutes and let me look at you -- just that.
will it be too much trouble?"
frances stooped and kissed him.
""i will come every day, jacky," she said; and a look of ineffable content came over the thin little face.
he put up his hand and touched her cheek.
""i knew you were good -- as good as miss c'rona, and she is an angel.
i love you."
when morning came frances went home.
it was raining, and the sea was hidden in mist.
as she walked along the wet road, elliott sherwood came splashing along in a little two-wheeled gig and picked her up.
he wore a raincoat and a small cap, and did not look at all like a minister -- or, at least, like frances's conception of one.
not that she knew much about ministers.
her own minister at home -- that is to say, the minister of the fashionable uptown church which she attended -- was a portly, dignified old man with silvery hair and gold-rimmed glasses, who preached scholarly, cultured sermons and was as far removed from frances's personal life as a star in the milky way.
but a minister who wore rubber coats and little caps and drove about in a two-wheeled gig, very much mud-bespattered, and who talked about the shore people as if they were household intimates of his, was absolutely new to frances.
she could not help seeing, however, that the crisp brown hair under the edges of the unclerical-looking cap curled around a remarkably well-shaped forehead, beneath which flashed out a pair of very fine dark-grey eyes; he had likewise a good mouth, which was resolute and looked as if it might be stubborn on occasion; and, although he was not exactly handsome, frances decided that she liked his face.
he tucked the wet, slippery rubber apron of his conveyance about her and then proceeded to ask questions.
jacky hart's case had to be reported on, and then mr. sherwood took out a notebook and looked over its entries intently.
""do you want any more work of that sort to do?"
he asked her abruptly.
frances felt faintly amused.
he talked to her as he might have done to corona, and seemed utterly oblivious of the fact that her profile was classic and her eyes delicious.
his indifference piqued frances a little in spite of her murdered heart.
well, if there was anything she could do she might as well do it, she told him briefly, and he, with equal brevity, gave her directions for finding some old lady who lived on the elm creek road and to whom corona had read tracts.
""tracts are a mild dissipation of aunt clorinda's," he said.
""she fairly revels in them.
she is half blind and has missed corona very much."
there were other matters also -- a dozen or so of factory girls who needed to be looked after and a family of ragged children to be clothed.
frances, in some dismay, found herself pledged to help in all directions, and then ways and means had to be discussed.
the long, wet road, sprinkled with houses, from whose windows people were peering to see "what girl the minister was driving," seemed very short.
frances did not know it, but elliott sherwood drove a full mile out of his way that morning to take her home, and risked being late for a very important appointment -- from which it may be inferred that he was not quite so blind to the beautiful as he had seemed.
frances went through the rain that afternoon and read tracts to aunt clorinda.
she was so dreadfully tired that night that she forgot to cry, and slept well and soundly.
in the morning she went to church for the first time since coming to windy meadows.
it did not seem civil not to go to hear a man preach when she had gone slumming with his sister and expected to assist him with his difficulties over factory girls.
she was surprised at elliott sherwood's sermon, and mentally wondered why such a man had been allowed to remain for four years in a little country pulpit.
later on aunt eleanor told her it was for his health.
""he was not strong when he left college, so he came here.
but he is as well as ever now, and i expect he will soon be gobbled up by some of your city churches.
he preached in castle street church last winter, and i believe they were delighted with him."
this was all of a month later.
during that time frances thought that she must have been re-created, so far was her old self left behind.
she seldom had an idle moment; when she had, she spent it with corona.
the two girls had become close friends, loving each other with the intensity of exceptional and somewhat exclusive natures.
corona grew strong slowly, and could do little for her brother's people, but frances was an excellent proxy, and elliott sherwood kept her employed.
incidentally, frances had come to know the young minister, with his lofty ideals and earnest efforts, very well.
he had got into a ridiculous habit of going to her -- her, frances farquhar!
-- for advice in many perplexities.
frances had nursed jacky hart and talked temperance to his father and read tracts to aunt clorinda and started a reading circle among the factory girls and fitted out all the little jarboes with dresses and coaxed the shore children to go to school and patched up a feud between two "longshore families and done a hundred other things of a similar nature.
aunt eleanor said nothing, as was her wise wont, but she talked it over with margaret ann peabody, and agreed with that model domestic when she said: "work'll keep folks out of trouble and help'em out of it when they are in.
just as long as that girl brooded over her own worries and did n't think of anyone but herself she was miserable.
but as soon as she found other folks were unhappy, too, and tried to help'em out a bit, she helped herself most of all.
she's getting fat and rosy, and it is plain to be seen that the minister thinks there is n't the like of her on this planet."
one night frances told corona all about holcomb.
elliott sherwood was away, and frances had gone up to stay all night with corona at the manse.
they were sitting in the moonlit gloom of corona's room, and frances felt confidential.
she had expected to feel badly and cry a little while she told it.
but she did not, and before she was half through, it did not seem as if it were worth telling after all.
corona was deeply sympathetic.
she did not say a great deal, but what she did say put frances on better terms with herself.
""oh, i shall get over it," the latter declared finally.
""once i thought i never would -- but the truth is, i'm getting over it now.
i'm very glad -- but i'm horribly ashamed, too, to find myself so fickle."
""i do n't think you are fickle, frances," said corona gravely, "because i do n't think you ever really loved that man at all.
you only imagined you did.
and he was not worthy of you.
you are so good, dear; those shore people just worship you.
elliott says you can do anything you like with them."
frances laughed and said she was not at all good.
yet she was pleased.
later on, when she was brushing her hair before the mirror and smiling absently at her reflection, corona said: "frances, what is it like to be as pretty as you are?"
""nonsense!"
said frances by way of answer.
""it is not nonsense at all.
you must know you are very lovely, frances.
elliott says you are the most beautiful girl he has ever seen."
for a girl who has told herself a dozen times that she would never care again for masculine admiration, frances experienced a very odd thrill of delight on hearing that the minister of windy meadows thought her beautiful.
she knew he admired her intellect and had immense respect for what he called her "genius for influencing people," but she had really believed all along that, if elliott sherwood had been asked, he could not have told whether she was a whit better looking than kitty martin of the cove, who taught a class in sunday school and had round rosy cheeks and a snub nose.
the summer went very quickly.
one day jacky hart died -- drifted out with the ebb tide, holding frances's hand.
she had loved the patient, sweet-souled little creature and missed him greatly.
when the time to go home came frances felt dull.
she hated to leave windy meadows and corona and her dear shore people and aunt eleanor and -- and -- well, margaret ann peabody.
elliott sherwood came up the night before she went away.
when margaret ann showed him reverentially in, frances was sitting in a halo of sunset light, and the pale, golden chrysanthemums in her hair shone like stars in the blue-black coils.
elliott sherwood had been absent from windy meadows for several days.
there was a subdued jubilance in his manner.
""you think i have come to say good-bye, but i have n't," he told her.
""i shall see you again very soon, i hope.
i have just received a call to castle street church, and it is my intention to accept.
so corona and i will be in town this winter."
frances tried to tell him how glad she was, but only stammered.
elliott sherwood came close up to her as she stood by the window in the fading light, and said -- but on second thoughts i shall not record what he said -- or what she said either.
some things should be left to the imagination.
why mr. cropper changed his mind "well, miss maxwell, how did you get along today?"
asked mr. baxter affably, when the new teacher came to the table.
she was a slight, dark girl, rather plain-looking, but with a smart, energetic way.
mr. baxter approved of her; he "liked her style," as he would have said.
the summer term had just opened in the maitland district.
esther maxwell was a stranger, but she was a capable girl, and had no doubt of her own ability to get and keep the school in good working order.
she smiled brightly at mr. baxter.
""very well for a beginning.
the children seem bright and teachable and not hard to control."
mr. baxter nodded.
""there are no bad children in the school except the cropper boys -- and they can be good enough if they like.
reckon they were n't there today?"
""no."
""well, miss maxwell, i think it only fair to tell you that you may have trouble with those boys when they do come.
forewarned is forearmed, you know.
mr. cropper was opposed to our hiring you.
not, of course, that he had any personal objection to you, but he is set against female teachers, and when a cropper is set there is nothing on earth can change him.
he says female teachers ca n't keep order.
he's started in with a spite at you on general principles, and the boys know it.
they know he'll back them up in secret, no matter what they do, just to prove his opinions.
cropper is sly and slippery, and it is hard to corner him."
""are the boys big?"
queried esther anxiously.
""yes.
thirteen and fourteen and big for their age.
you ca n't whip'em -- that is the trouble.
a man might, but they'd twist you around their fingers.
you'll have your hands full, i'm afraid.
but maybe they'll behave all right after all."
mr. baxter privately had no hope that they would, but esther hoped for the best.
she could not believe that mr. cropper would carry his prejudices into a personal application.
this conviction was strengthened when he overtook her walking from school the next day and drove her home.
he was a big, handsome man with a very suave, polite manner.
he asked interestedly about her school and her work, hoped she was getting on well, and said he had two young rascals of his own to send soon.
esther felt relieved.
she thought that mr. baxter had exaggerated matters a little.
""that plum tree of mrs. charley's is loaded with fruit again this year," remarked mr. baxter at the tea table that evening.
""i came past it today on my way "cross lots home from the woods.
there will be bushels of plums on it."
""i do n't suppose poor mrs. charley will get one of them any more than she ever has," said mrs. baxter indignantly.
""it's a burning shame, that's what it is!
i just wish she could catch the croppers once."
""you have n't any proof that it is really them, mary," objected her husband, "and you should n't make reckless accusations before folks."
""i know very well it is them," retorted mrs. baxter, "and so do you, adoniram.
and mrs. charley knows it too, although she ca n't prove it -- more's the pity!
i do n't say isaac cropper steals those plums with his own hands.
but he knows who does -- and the plums go into mehitable cropper's preserving kettle; there's nothing surer."
""you see, miss maxwell, it's this way," explained mr. baxter, turning to esther.
""mrs. charley cropper's husband was isaac's brother.
they never got on well together, and when charley died there was a tremendous fuss about the property.
isaac acted mean and scandalous clear through, and public opinion has been down on him ever since.
but mrs. charley is a pretty smart woman, and he did n't get the better of her in everything.
there was a strip of disputed land between the two farms, and she secured it.
there's a big plum tree growing on it close to the line fence.
it's the finest one in maitland.
but mrs. charley never gets a plum from it."
""but what becomes of them?"
asked esther.
""they disappear," said mr. baxter, with a significant nod.
""when the plums are anything like ripe mrs. charley discovers some day that there is n't one left on the tree.
she has never been able to get a scrap of proof as to who took them, or she'd make it hot for them.
but nobody in maitland has any doubt in his own mind that isaac cropper knows where those plums go."
""i do n't think mr. cropper would steal," protested esther.
""well, he does n't consider it stealing, you know.
he claims the land and says the plums are his.
i do n't doubt that he is quite clear in his own mind that they are.
and he does hate mrs. charley.
i'd give considerable to see the old sinner fairly caught, but he is too deep."
""i think mr. baxter is too hard on mr. cropper," said esther to herself later on.
""he has probably some private prejudice against him."
* * * * * but a month later she had changed her opinion.
during that time the cropper boys had come to school.
at first esther had been inclined to like them.
they were handsome lads, with the same smooth way that characterized their father, and seemed bright and intelligent.
for a few days all went well, and esther felt decidedly relieved.
but before long a subtle spirit of insubordination began to make itself felt in the school.
esther found herself powerless to cope with it.
the croppers never openly defied her, but they did precisely as they pleased.
the other pupils thought themselves at liberty to follow this example, and in a month's time poor esther had completely lost control of her little kingdom.
some complaints were heard among the ratepayers and even mr. baxter looked dubious.
she knew that unless she could regain her authority she would be requested to hand in her resignation, but she was baffled by the elusive system of defiance which the cropper boys had organized.
one day she resolved to go to mr. cropper himself and appeal to his sense of justice, if he had any.
it had been an especially hard day in school.
when she had been absent at the noon hour all the desks in the schoolroom had been piled in a pyramid on the floor, books and slates interchanged, and various other pranks played.
when questioned every pupil denied having done or helped to do it.
alfred and bob cropper looked her squarely in the eyes and declared their innocence in their usual gentlemanly fashion, yet esther felt sure that they were the guilty ones.
she also knew what exaggerated accounts of the affair would be taken home to maitland tea tables, and she felt like sitting down to cry.
but she did not.
instead she set her mouth firmly, helped the children restore the room to order, and after school went up to isaac cropper's house.
that gentleman himself came in from the harvest field looking as courtly as usual, even in his rough working clothes.
he shook hands heartily, told her he was glad to see her, and began talking about the weather.
esther was not to be turned from her object thus, although she felt her courage ebbing away from her as it always did in the presence of the cropper imperviousness.
""i have come up to see you about alfred and robert, mr. cropper," she said.
""they are not behaving well in school."
""indeed!"
mr. cropper's voice expressed bland surprise.
""that is strange.
as a rule i do not think alfred and robert have been troublesome to their teachers.
what have they been doing now?"
""they refuse to obey my orders," said esther faintly.
""ah, well, miss maxwell, perhaps you will pardon my saying that a teacher should be able to enforce her orders.
my boys are high-spirited fellows and need a strong, firm hand to restrain them.
i have always said i considered it advisable to employ a male teacher in maitland school.
we should have better order.
not that i disapprove of you personally -- far from it.
i should be glad to see you succeed.
but i have heard many complaints regarding the order in school at present."
""i had no trouble until your boys came," retorted esther, losing her temper a little, "and i believe that if you were willing to co-operate with me that i could govern them."
""well, you see," said mr. cropper easily, "when i send my boys to school i naturally expect that the teacher will be capable of doing the work she has been hired to do."
""then you refuse to help me?"
said esther in a trembling voice.
""why, my dear young lady, what can i do?
boys soon know when they can disobey a teacher with impunity.
no doubt you will be able to secure a school easier to control and will do good work.
but here, as i have already said, we need a firm hand at the helm.
but you are not going yet, miss maxwell?
you need some refreshment after your long walk.
mrs. cropper will bring you in something."
""no, thank you," said poor esther.
she felt that she must get away at once or she would burst into heartsick tears under those steely, bland blue eyes.
when she got home she shut herself up in her room and cried.
there was nothing for her to do but resign, she thought dismally.
on the following saturday esther went for an afternoon walk, carrying her kodak with her.
it was a brilliantly fine autumn day, and woods and fields were basking in a mellow haze.
esther went across lots to mrs. charley cropper's house, intending to make a call.
but the house was locked up and evidently deserted, so she rambled past it to the back fields.
passing through a grove of maples she came out among leafy young saplings on the other side.
just beyond her, with its laden boughs hanging over the line fence, was the famous plum tree.
esther looked at it for a moment.
then an odd smile gleamed over her face and she lifted her kodak.
monday evening esther called on mr. cropper again.
after the preliminary remarks in which he indulged, she said, with seeming irrelevance, that saturday had been a fine day.
""there was an excellent light for snapshots," she went on coolly.
""i went out with my kodak and was lucky enough to get a good negative.
i have brought you up a proof.
i thought you would be interested in it."
she rose and placed the proof on the table before mr. cropper.
the plum tree came out clearly.
bob and alf cropper were up among the boughs picking the plums.
on the ground beneath them stood their father with a basket of fruit in his hand.
mr. cropper looked at the proof and from it to esther.
his eyes had lost their unconcerned glitter, but his voice was defiant.
""the plums are mine by right," he said.
""perhaps," said esther calmly, "but there are some who do not think so.
mrs. charley, for instance -- she would like to see this proof, i think."
""do n't show it to her," cried mr. cropper hastily.
""i tell you, miss maxwell, the plums are mine.
but i am tired of fighting over them and i had decided before this that i'd let her have them after this.
it's only a trifle, anyhow.
and about that little matter we were discussing the other night, miss maxwell.
i have been thinking it over, and i admit i was somewhat unreasonable.
i'll talk to alfred and robert and see what i can do."
""very well," said esther quietly.
""the matter of the plums is n't my business and i do n't wish to be involved in your family feuds, especially as you say that you mean to allow mrs. charley to enjoy her own in future.
as for the school, we will hope that matters will improve."
""you'll leave the proof with me, wo n't you?"
said mr. cropper eagerly.
""oh, certainly," said esther, smiling.
""i have the negative still, you know."
from that time out the cropper boys were models of good behaviour and the other turbulent spirits, having lost their leaders, were soon quelled.
complaint died away, and at the end of the term esther was re-engaged.
""you seem to have won old cropper over to your side entirely," mr. baxter told her that night.
""he said at the meeting today that you were the best teacher we had ever had and moved to raise your salary.
i never knew isaac cropper to change his opinions so handsomely."
esther smiled.
_book_title_: rudyard_kipling___the_jungle_book.txt.out
mowgli's brothers now rann the kite brings home the night that mang the bat sets free -- the herds are shut in byre and hut for loosed till dawn are we.
this is the hour of pride and power, talon and tush and claw.
oh, hear the call!
-- good hunting all that keep the jungle law!
night-song in the jungle it was seven o'clock of a very warm evening in the seeonee hills when father wolf woke up from his day's rest, scratched himself, yawned, and spread out his paws one after the other to get rid of the sleepy feeling in their tips.
mother wolf lay with her big gray nose dropped across her four tumbling, squealing cubs, and the moon shone into the mouth of the cave where they all lived.
""augrh!"
said father wolf.
""it is time to hunt again."
he was going to spring down hill when a little shadow with a bushy tail crossed the threshold and whined: "good luck go with you, o chief of the wolves.
and good luck and strong white teeth go with noble children that they may never forget the hungry in this world."
it was the jackal -- tabaqui, the dish-licker -- and the wolves of india despise tabaqui because he runs about making mischief, and telling tales, and eating rags and pieces of leather from the village rubbish-heaps.
but they are afraid of him too, because tabaqui, more than anyone else in the jungle, is apt to go mad, and then he forgets that he was ever afraid of anyone, and runs through the forest biting everything in his way.
even the tiger runs and hides when little tabaqui goes mad, for madness is the most disgraceful thing that can overtake a wild creature.
we call it hydrophobia, but they call it dewanee -- the madness -- and run.
""enter, then, and look," said father wolf stiffly, "but there is no food here."
""for a wolf, no," said tabaqui, "but for so mean a person as myself a dry bone is a good feast.
who are we, the gidur-log -lsb- the jackal people -rsb-, to pick and choose?"
he scuttled to the back of the cave, where he found the bone of a buck with some meat on it, and sat cracking the end merrily.
""all thanks for this good meal," he said, licking his lips.
""how beautiful are the noble children!
how large are their eyes!
and so young too!
indeed, indeed, i might have remembered that the children of kings are men from the beginning."
now, tabaqui knew as well as anyone else that there is nothing so unlucky as to compliment children to their faces.
it pleased him to see mother and father wolf look uncomfortable.
tabaqui sat still, rejoicing in the mischief that he had made, and then he said spitefully: "shere khan, the big one, has shifted his hunting grounds.
he will hunt among these hills for the next moon, so he has told me."
shere khan was the tiger who lived near the waingunga river, twenty miles away.
""he has no right!"
father wolf began angrily -- "by the law of the jungle he has no right to change his quarters without due warning.
he will frighten every head of game within ten miles, and i -- i have to kill for two, these days."
""his mother did not call him lungri -lsb- the lame one -rsb- for nothing," said mother wolf quietly.
""he has been lame in one foot from his birth.
that is why he has only killed cattle.
now the villagers of the waingunga are angry with him, and he has come here to make our villagers angry.
they will scour the jungle for him when he is far away, and we and our children must run when the grass is set alight.
indeed, we are very grateful to shere khan!"
""shall i tell him of your gratitude?"
said tabaqui.
""out!"
snapped father wolf.
""out and hunt with thy master.
thou hast done harm enough for one night."
""i go," said tabaqui quietly.
""ye can hear shere khan below in the thickets.
i might have saved myself the message."
father wolf listened, and below in the valley that ran down to a little river he heard the dry, angry, snarly, singsong whine of a tiger who has caught nothing and does not care if all the jungle knows it.
""the fool!"
said father wolf.
""to begin a night's work with that noise!
does he think that our buck are like his fat waingunga bullocks?"
""h'sh.
it is neither bullock nor buck he hunts to-night," said mother wolf.
""it is man."
the whine had changed to a sort of humming purr that seemed to come from every quarter of the compass.
it was the noise that bewilders woodcutters and gypsies sleeping in the open, and makes them run sometimes into the very mouth of the tiger.
""man!"
said father wolf, showing all his white teeth.
""faugh!
are there not enough beetles and frogs in the tanks that he must eat man, and on our ground too!"
the law of the jungle, which never orders anything without a reason, forbids every beast to eat man except when he is killing to show his children how to kill, and then he must hunt outside the hunting grounds of his pack or tribe.
the real reason for this is that man-killing means, sooner or later, the arrival of white men on elephants, with guns, and hundreds of brown men with gongs and rockets and torches.
then everybody in the jungle suffers.
the reason the beasts give among themselves is that man is the weakest and most defenseless of all living things, and it is unsportsmanlike to touch him.
they say too -- and it is true -- that man-eaters become mangy, and lose their teeth.
the purr grew louder, and ended in the full-throated "aaarh!"
of the tiger's charge.
then there was a howl -- an untigerish howl -- from shere khan.
""he has missed," said mother wolf.
""what is it?"
father wolf ran out a few paces and heard shere khan muttering and mumbling savagely as he tumbled about in the scrub.
""the fool has had no more sense than to jump at a woodcutter's campfire, and has burned his feet," said father wolf with a grunt.
""tabaqui is with him."
""something is coming uphill," said mother wolf, twitching one ear.
""get ready."
the bushes rustled a little in the thicket, and father wolf dropped with his haunches under him, ready for his leap.
then, if you had been watching, you would have seen the most wonderful thing in the world -- the wolf checked in mid-spring.
he made his bound before he saw what it was he was jumping at, and then he tried to stop himself.
the result was that he shot up straight into the air for four or five feet, landing almost where he left ground.
""man!"
he snapped.
""a man's cub.
look!"
directly in front of him, holding on by a low branch, stood a naked brown baby who could just walk -- as soft and as dimpled a little atom as ever came to a wolf's cave at night.
he looked up into father wolf's face, and laughed.
""is that a man's cub?"
said mother wolf.
""i have never seen one.
bring it here."
a wolf accustomed to moving his own cubs can, if necessary, mouth an egg without breaking it, and though father wolf's jaws closed right on the child's back not a tooth even scratched the skin as he laid it down among the cubs.
""how little!
how naked, and -- how bold!"
said mother wolf softly.
the baby was pushing his way between the cubs to get close to the warm hide.
""ahai!
he is taking his meal with the others.
and so this is a man's cub.
now, was there ever a wolf that could boast of a man's cub among her children?"
""i have heard now and again of such a thing, but never in our pack or in my time," said father wolf.
""he is altogether without hair, and i could kill him with a touch of my foot.
but see, he looks up and is not afraid."
the moonlight was blocked out of the mouth of the cave, for shere khan's great square head and shoulders were thrust into the entrance.
tabaqui, behind him, was squeaking: "my lord, my lord, it went in here!"
""shere khan does us great honor," said father wolf, but his eyes were very angry.
""what does shere khan need?"
""my quarry.
a man's cub went this way," said shere khan.
""its parents have run off.
give it to me."
shere khan had jumped at a woodcutter's campfire, as father wolf had said, and was furious from the pain of his burned feet.
but father wolf knew that the mouth of the cave was too narrow for a tiger to come in by.
even where he was, shere khan's shoulders and forepaws were cramped for want of room, as a man's would be if he tried to fight in a barrel.
""the wolves are a free people," said father wolf.
""they take orders from the head of the pack, and not from any striped cattle-killer.
the man's cub is ours -- to kill if we choose."
""ye choose and ye do not choose!
what talk is this of choosing?
by the bull that i killed, am i to stand nosing into your dog's den for my fair dues?
it is i, shere khan, who speak!"
the tiger's roar filled the cave with thunder.
mother wolf shook herself clear of the cubs and sprang forward, her eyes, like two green moons in the darkness, facing the blazing eyes of shere khan.
""and it is i, raksha -lsb- the demon -rsb-, who answers.
the man's cub is mine, lungri -- mine to me!
he shall not be killed.
he shall live to run with the pack and to hunt with the pack; and in the end, look you, hunter of little naked cubs -- frog-eater -- fish-killer -- he shall hunt thee!
now get hence, or by the sambhur that i killed -lrb- i eat no starved cattle -rrb-, back thou goest to thy mother, burned beast of the jungle, lamer than ever thou camest into the world!
go!"
father wolf looked on amazed.
he had almost forgotten the days when he won mother wolf in fair fight from five other wolves, when she ran in the pack and was not called the demon for compliment's sake.
shere khan might have faced father wolf, but he could not stand up against mother wolf, for he knew that where he was she had all the advantage of the ground, and would fight to the death.
so he backed out of the cave mouth growling, and when he was clear he shouted: "each dog barks in his own yard!
we will see what the pack will say to this fostering of man-cubs.
the cub is mine, and to my teeth he will come in the end, o bush-tailed thieves!"
mother wolf threw herself down panting among the cubs, and father wolf said to her gravely: "shere khan speaks this much truth.
the cub must be shown to the pack.
wilt thou still keep him, mother?"
""keep him!"
she gasped.
""he came naked, by night, alone and very hungry; yet he was not afraid!
look, he has pushed one of my babes to one side already.
and that lame butcher would have killed him and would have run off to the waingunga while the villagers here hunted through all our lairs in revenge!
keep him?
assuredly i will keep him.
lie still, little frog.
o thou mowgli -- for mowgli the frog i will call thee -- the time will come when thou wilt hunt shere khan as he has hunted thee."
""but what will our pack say?"
said father wolf.
the law of the jungle lays down very clearly that any wolf may, when he marries, withdraw from the pack he belongs to.
but as soon as his cubs are old enough to stand on their feet he must bring them to the pack council, which is generally held once a month at full moon, in order that the other wolves may identify them.
after that inspection the cubs are free to run where they please, and until they have killed their first buck no excuse is accepted if a grown wolf of the pack kills one of them.
the punishment is death where the murderer can be found; and if you think for a minute you will see that this must be so.
father wolf waited till his cubs could run a little, and then on the night of the pack meeting took them and mowgli and mother wolf to the council rock -- a hilltop covered with stones and boulders where a hundred wolves could hide.
akela, the great gray lone wolf, who led all the pack by strength and cunning, lay out at full length on his rock, and below him sat forty or more wolves of every size and color, from badger-colored veterans who could handle a buck alone to young black three-year-olds who thought they could.
the lone wolf had led them for a year now.
he had fallen twice into a wolf trap in his youth, and once he had been beaten and left for dead; so he knew the manners and customs of men.
there was very little talking at the rock.
the cubs tumbled over each other in the center of the circle where their mothers and fathers sat, and now and again a senior wolf would go quietly up to a cub, look at him carefully, and return to his place on noiseless feet.
sometimes a mother would push her cub far out into the moonlight to be sure that he had not been overlooked.
akela from his rock would cry: "ye know the law -- ye know the law.
look well, o wolves!"
and the anxious mothers would take up the call: "look -- look well, o wolves!"
at last -- and mother wolf's neck bristles lifted as the time came -- father wolf pushed "mowgli the frog," as they called him, into the center, where he sat laughing and playing with some pebbles that glistened in the moonlight.
akela never raised his head from his paws, but went on with the monotonous cry: "look well!"
a muffled roar came up from behind the rocks -- the voice of shere khan crying: "the cub is mine.
give him to me.
what have the free people to do with a man's cub?"
akela never even twitched his ears.
all he said was: "look well, o wolves!
what have the free people to do with the orders of any save the free people?
look well!"
there was a chorus of deep growls, and a young wolf in his fourth year flung back shere khan's question to akela: "what have the free people to do with a man's cub?"
now, the law of the jungle lays down that if there is any dispute as to the right of a cub to be accepted by the pack, he must be spoken for by at least two members of the pack who are not his father and mother.
""who speaks for this cub?"
said akela.
""among the free people who speaks?"
there was no answer and mother wolf got ready for what she knew would be her last fight, if things came to fighting.
then the only other creature who is allowed at the pack council -- baloo, the sleepy brown bear who teaches the wolf cubs the law of the jungle: old baloo, who can come and go where he pleases because he eats only nuts and roots and honey -- rose upon his hind quarters and grunted.
""the man's cub -- the man's cub?"
he said.
""i speak for the man's cub.
there is no harm in a man's cub.
i have no gift of words, but i speak the truth.
let him run with the pack, and be entered with the others.
i myself will teach him."
""we need yet another," said akela.
""baloo has spoken, and he is our teacher for the young cubs.
who speaks besides baloo?"
a black shadow dropped down into the circle.
it was bagheera the black panther, inky black all over, but with the panther markings showing up in certain lights like the pattern of watered silk.
everybody knew bagheera, and nobody cared to cross his path; for he was as cunning as tabaqui, as bold as the wild buffalo, and as reckless as the wounded elephant.
but he had a voice as soft as wild honey dripping from a tree, and a skin softer than down.
""o akela, and ye the free people," he purred, "i have no right in your assembly, but the law of the jungle says that if there is a doubt which is not a killing matter in regard to a new cub, the life of that cub may be bought at a price.
and the law does not say who may or may not pay that price.
am i right?"
""good!
good!"
said the young wolves, who are always hungry.
""listen to bagheera.
the cub can be bought for a price.
it is the law."
""knowing that i have no right to speak here, i ask your leave."
""speak then," cried twenty voices.
""to kill a naked cub is shame.
besides, he may make better sport for you when he is grown.
baloo has spoken in his behalf.
now to baloo's word i will add one bull, and a fat one, newly killed, not half a mile from here, if ye will accept the man's cub according to the law.
is it difficult?"
there was a clamor of scores of voices, saying: "what matter?
he will die in the winter rains.
he will scorch in the sun.
what harm can a naked frog do us?
let him run with the pack.
where is the bull, bagheera?
let him be accepted."
and then came akela's deep bay, crying: "look well -- look well, o wolves!"
mowgli was still deeply interested in the pebbles, and he did not notice when the wolves came and looked at him one by one.
at last they all went down the hill for the dead bull, and only akela, bagheera, baloo, and mowgli's own wolves were left.
shere khan roared still in the night, for he was very angry that mowgli had not been handed over to him.
""ay, roar well," said bagheera, under his whiskers, "for the time will come when this naked thing will make thee roar to another tune, or i know nothing of man."
""it was well done," said akela.
""men and their cubs are very wise.
he may be a help in time."
""truly, a help in time of need; for none can hope to lead the pack forever," said bagheera.
akela said nothing.
he was thinking of the time that comes to every leader of every pack when his strength goes from him and he gets feebler and feebler, till at last he is killed by the wolves and a new leader comes up -- to be killed in his turn.
""take him away," he said to father wolf, "and train him as befits one of the free people."
and that is how mowgli was entered into the seeonee wolf pack for the price of a bull and on baloo's good word.
now you must be content to skip ten or eleven whole years, and only guess at all the wonderful life that mowgli led among the wolves, because if it were written out it would fill ever so many books.
he grew up with the cubs, though they, of course, were grown wolves almost before he was a child.
and father wolf taught him his business, and the meaning of things in the jungle, till every rustle in the grass, every breath of the warm night air, every note of the owls above his head, every scratch of a bat's claws as it roosted for a while in a tree, and every splash of every little fish jumping in a pool meant just as much to him as the work of his office means to a business man.
when he was not learning he sat out in the sun and slept, and ate and went to sleep again.
when he felt dirty or hot he swam in the forest pools; and when he wanted honey -lrb- baloo told him that honey and nuts were just as pleasant to eat as raw meat -rrb- he climbed up for it, and that bagheera showed him how to do.
bagheera would lie out on a branch and call, "come along, little brother," and at first mowgli would cling like the sloth, but afterward he would fling himself through the branches almost as boldly as the gray ape.
he took his place at the council rock, too, when the pack met, and there he discovered that if he stared hard at any wolf, the wolf would be forced to drop his eyes, and so he used to stare for fun.
at other times he would pick the long thorns out of the pads of his friends, for wolves suffer terribly from thorns and burs in their coats.
he would go down the hillside into the cultivated lands by night, and look very curiously at the villagers in their huts, but he had a mistrust of men because bagheera showed him a square box with a drop gate so cunningly hidden in the jungle that he nearly walked into it, and told him that it was a trap.
he loved better than anything else to go with bagheera into the dark warm heart of the forest, to sleep all through the drowsy day, and at night see how bagheera did his killing.
bagheera killed right and left as he felt hungry, and so did mowgli -- with one exception.
as soon as he was old enough to understand things, bagheera told him that he must never touch cattle because he had been bought into the pack at the price of a bull's life.
""all the jungle is thine," said bagheera, "and thou canst kill everything that thou art strong enough to kill; but for the sake of the bull that bought thee thou must never kill or eat any cattle young or old.
that is the law of the jungle."
mowgli obeyed faithfully.
and he grew and grew strong as a boy must grow who does not know that he is learning any lessons, and who has nothing in the world to think of except things to eat.
mother wolf told him once or twice that shere khan was not a creature to be trusted, and that some day he must kill shere khan.
but though a young wolf would have remembered that advice every hour, mowgli forgot it because he was only a boy -- though he would have called himself a wolf if he had been able to speak in any human tongue.
shere khan was always crossing his path in the jungle, for as akela grew older and feebler the lame tiger had come to be great friends with the younger wolves of the pack, who followed him for scraps, a thing akela would never have allowed if he had dared to push his authority to the proper bounds.
then shere khan would flatter them and wonder that such fine young hunters were content to be led by a dying wolf and a man's cub.
""they tell me," shere khan would say, "that at council ye dare not look him between the eyes."
and the young wolves would growl and bristle.
bagheera, who had eyes and ears everywhere, knew something of this, and once or twice he told mowgli in so many words that shere khan would kill him some day.
mowgli would laugh and answer: "i have the pack and i have thee; and baloo, though he is so lazy, might strike a blow or two for my sake.
why should i be afraid?"
it was one very warm day that a new notion came to bagheera -- born of something that he had heard.
perhaps ikki the porcupine had told him; but he said to mowgli when they were deep in the jungle, as the boy lay with his head on bagheera's beautiful black skin, "little brother, how often have i told thee that shere khan is thy enemy?"
""as many times as there are nuts on that palm," said mowgli, who, naturally, could not count.
""what of it?
i am sleepy, bagheera, and shere khan is all long tail and loud talk -- like mao, the peacock."
""but this is no time for sleeping.
baloo knows it; i know it; the pack know it; and even the foolish, foolish deer know.
tabaqui has told thee too."
""ho!
ho!"
said mowgli.
""tabaqui came to me not long ago with some rude talk that i was a naked man's cub and not fit to dig pig-nuts.
but i caught tabaqui by the tail and swung him twice against a palm-tree to teach him better manners."
""that was foolishness, for though tabaqui is a mischief-maker, he would have told thee of something that concerned thee closely.
open those eyes, little brother.
shere khan dare not kill thee in the jungle.
but remember, akela is very old, and soon the day comes when he can not kill his buck, and then he will be leader no more.
many of the wolves that looked thee over when thou wast brought to the council first are old too, and the young wolves believe, as shere khan has taught them, that a man-cub has no place with the pack.
in a little time thou wilt be a man."
""and what is a man that he should not run with his brothers?"
said mowgli.
""i was born in the jungle.
i have obeyed the law of the jungle, and there is no wolf of ours from whose paws i have not pulled a thorn.
surely they are my brothers!"
bagheera stretched himself at full length and half shut his eyes.
""little brother," said he, "feel under my jaw."
mowgli put up his strong brown hand, and just under bagheera's silky chin, where the giant rolling muscles were all hid by the glossy hair, he came upon a little bald spot.
""there is no one in the jungle that knows that i, bagheera, carry that mark -- the mark of the collar; and yet, little brother, i was born among men, and it was among men that my mother died -- in the cages of the king's palace at oodeypore.
it was because of this that i paid the price for thee at the council when thou wast a little naked cub.
yes, i too was born among men.
i had never seen the jungle.
they fed me behind bars from an iron pan till one night i felt that i was bagheera -- the panther -- and no man's plaything, and i broke the silly lock with one blow of my paw and came away.
and because i had learned the ways of men, i became more terrible in the jungle than shere khan.
is it not so?"
""yes," said mowgli, "all the jungle fear bagheera -- all except mowgli."
""oh, thou art a man's cub," said the black panther very tenderly.
""and even as i returned to my jungle, so thou must go back to men at last -- to the men who are thy brothers -- if thou art not killed in the council."
""but why -- but why should any wish to kill me?"
said mowgli.
""look at me," said bagheera.
and mowgli looked at him steadily between the eyes.
the big panther turned his head away in half a minute.
""that is why," he said, shifting his paw on the leaves.
""not even i can look thee between the eyes, and i was born among men, and i love thee, little brother.
the others they hate thee because their eyes can not meet thine; because thou art wise; because thou hast pulled out thorns from their feet -- because thou art a man."
""i did not know these things," said mowgli sullenly, and he frowned under his heavy black eyebrows.
""what is the law of the jungle?
strike first and then give tongue.
by thy very carelessness they know that thou art a man.
but be wise.
it is in my heart that when akela misses his next kill -- and at each hunt it costs him more to pin the buck -- the pack will turn against him and against thee.
they will hold a jungle council at the rock, and then -- and then -- i have it!"
said bagheera, leaping up.
""go thou down quickly to the men's huts in the valley, and take some of the red flower which they grow there, so that when the time comes thou mayest have even a stronger friend than i or baloo or those of the pack that love thee.
get the red flower."
by red flower bagheera meant fire, only no creature in the jungle will call fire by its proper name.
every beast lives in deadly fear of it, and invents a hundred ways of describing it.
""the red flower?"
said mowgli.
""that grows outside their huts in the twilight.
i will get some."
""there speaks the man's cub," said bagheera proudly.
""remember that it grows in little pots.
get one swiftly, and keep it by thee for time of need."
""good!"
said mowgli.
""i go.
but art thou sure, o my bagheera" -- he slipped his arm around the splendid neck and looked deep into the big eyes -- "art thou sure that all this is shere khan's doing?"
""by the broken lock that freed me, i am sure, little brother."
""then, by the bull that bought me, i will pay shere khan full tale for this, and it may be a little over," said mowgli, and he bounded away.
""that is a man.
that is all a man," said bagheera to himself, lying down again.
""oh, shere khan, never was a blacker hunting than that frog-hunt of thine ten years ago!"
mowgli was far and far through the forest, running hard, and his heart was hot in him.
he came to the cave as the evening mist rose, and drew breath, and looked down the valley.
the cubs were out, but mother wolf, at the back of the cave, knew by his breathing that something was troubling her frog.
""what is it, son?"
she said.
""some bat's chatter of shere khan," he called back.
""i hunt among the plowed fields tonight," and he plunged downward through the bushes, to the stream at the bottom of the valley.
there he checked, for he heard the yell of the pack hunting, heard the bellow of a hunted sambhur, and the snort as the buck turned at bay.
then there were wicked, bitter howls from the young wolves: "akela!
akela!
let the lone wolf show his strength.
room for the leader of the pack!
spring, akela!"
the lone wolf must have sprung and missed his hold, for mowgli heard the snap of his teeth and then a yelp as the sambhur knocked him over with his forefoot.
he did not wait for anything more, but dashed on; and the yells grew fainter behind him as he ran into the croplands where the villagers lived.
""bagheera spoke truth," he panted, as he nestled down in some cattle fodder by the window of a hut.
""to-morrow is one day both for akela and for me."
then he pressed his face close to the window and watched the fire on the hearth.
he saw the husbandman's wife get up and feed it in the night with black lumps.
and when the morning came and the mists were all white and cold, he saw the man's child pick up a wicker pot plastered inside with earth, fill it with lumps of red-hot charcoal, put it under his blanket, and go out to tend the cows in the byre.
""is that all?"
said mowgli.
""if a cub can do it, there is nothing to fear."
so he strode round the corner and met the boy, took the pot from his hand, and disappeared into the mist while the boy howled with fear.
""they are very like me," said mowgli, blowing into the pot as he had seen the woman do.
""this thing will die if i do not give it things to eat"; and he dropped twigs and dried bark on the red stuff.
halfway up the hill he met bagheera with the morning dew shining like moonstones on his coat.
""akela has missed," said the panther.
""they would have killed him last night, but they needed thee also.
they were looking for thee on the hill."
""i was among the plowed lands.
i am ready.
see!"
mowgli held up the fire-pot.
""good!
now, i have seen men thrust a dry branch into that stuff, and presently the red flower blossomed at the end of it.
art thou not afraid?"
""no.
why should i fear?
i remember now -- if it is not a dream -- how, before i was a wolf, i lay beside the red flower, and it was warm and pleasant."
all that day mowgli sat in the cave tending his fire pot and dipping dry branches into it to see how they looked.
he found a branch that satisfied him, and in the evening when tabaqui came to the cave and told him rudely enough that he was wanted at the council rock, he laughed till tabaqui ran away.
then mowgli went to the council, still laughing.
akela the lone wolf lay by the side of his rock as a sign that the leadership of the pack was open, and shere khan with his following of scrap-fed wolves walked to and fro openly being flattered.
bagheera lay close to mowgli, and the fire pot was between mowgli's knees.
when they were all gathered together, shere khan began to speak -- a thing he would never have dared to do when akela was in his prime.
""he has no right," whispered bagheera.
""say so.
he is a dog's son.
he will be frightened."
mowgli sprang to his feet.
""free people," he cried, "does shere khan lead the pack?
what has a tiger to do with our leadership?"
""seeing that the leadership is yet open, and being asked to speak --" shere khan began.
""by whom?"
said mowgli.
""are we all jackals, to fawn on this cattle butcher?
the leadership of the pack is with the pack alone."
there were yells of "silence, thou man's cub!"
""let him speak.
he has kept our law"; and at last the seniors of the pack thundered: "let the dead wolf speak."
when a leader of the pack has missed his kill, he is called the dead wolf as long as he lives, which is not long.
akela raised his old head wearily: -- "free people, and ye too, jackals of shere khan, for twelve seasons i have led ye to and from the kill, and in all that time not one has been trapped or maimed.
now i have missed my kill.
ye know how that plot was made.
ye know how ye brought me up to an untried buck to make my weakness known.
it was cleverly done.
your right is to kill me here on the council rock, now.
therefore, i ask, who comes to make an end of the lone wolf?
for it is my right, by the law of the jungle, that ye come one by one."
there was a long hush, for no single wolf cared to fight akela to the death.
then shere khan roared: "bah!
what have we to do with this toothless fool?
he is doomed to die!
it is the man-cub who has lived too long.
free people, he was my meat from the first.
give him to me.
i am weary of this man-wolf folly.
he has troubled the jungle for ten seasons.
give me the man-cub, or i will hunt here always, and not give you one bone.
he is a man, a man's child, and from the marrow of my bones i hate him!"
then more than half the pack yelled: "a man!
a man!
what has a man to do with us?
let him go to his own place."
""and turn all the people of the villages against us?"
clamored shere khan.
""no, give him to me.
he is a man, and none of us can look him between the eyes."
akela lifted his head again and said, "he has eaten our food.
he has slept with us.
he has driven game for us.
he has broken no word of the law of the jungle."
""also, i paid for him with a bull when he was accepted.
the worth of a bull is little, but bagheera's honor is something that he will perhaps fight for," said bagheera in his gentlest voice.
""a bull paid ten years ago!"
the pack snarled.
""what do we care for bones ten years old?"
""or for a pledge?"
said bagheera, his white teeth bared under his lip.
""well are ye called the free people!"
""no man's cub can run with the people of the jungle," howled shere khan.
""give him to me!"
""he is our brother in all but blood," akela went on, "and ye would kill him here!
in truth, i have lived too long.
some of ye are eaters of cattle, and of others i have heard that, under shere khan's teaching, ye go by dark night and snatch children from the villager's doorstep.
therefore i know ye to be cowards, and it is to cowards i speak.
it is certain that i must die, and my life is of no worth, or i would offer that in the man-cub's place.
but for the sake of the honor of the pack, -- a little matter that by being without a leader ye have forgotten, -- i promise that if ye let the man-cub go to his own place, i will not, when my time comes to die, bare one tooth against ye.
i will die without fighting.
that will at least save the pack three lives.
more i can not do; but if ye will, i can save ye the shame that comes of killing a brother against whom there is no fault -- a brother spoken for and bought into the pack according to the law of the jungle."
""he is a man -- a man -- a man!"
snarled the pack.
and most of the wolves began to gather round shere khan, whose tail was beginning to switch.
""now the business is in thy hands," said bagheera to mowgli.
""we can do no more except fight."
mowgli stood upright -- the fire pot in his hands.
then he stretched out his arms, and yawned in the face of the council; but he was furious with rage and sorrow, for, wolflike, the wolves had never told him how they hated him.
""listen you!"
he cried.
""there is no need for this dog's jabber.
ye have told me so often tonight that i am a man -lrb- and indeed i would have been a wolf with you to my life's end -rrb- that i feel your words are true.
so i do not call ye my brothers any more, but sag -lsb- dogs -rsb-, as a man should.
what ye will do, and what ye will not do, is not yours to say.
that matter is with me; and that we may see the matter more plainly, i, the man, have brought here a little of the red flower which ye, dogs, fear."
he flung the fire pot on the ground, and some of the red coals lit a tuft of dried moss that flared up, as all the council drew back in terror before the leaping flames.
mowgli thrust his dead branch into the fire till the twigs lit and crackled, and whirled it above his head among the cowering wolves.
""thou art the master," said bagheera in an undertone.
""save akela from the death.
he was ever thy friend."
akela, the grim old wolf who had never asked for mercy in his life, gave one piteous look at mowgli as the boy stood all naked, his long black hair tossing over his shoulders in the light of the blazing branch that made the shadows jump and quiver.
""good!"
said mowgli, staring round slowly.
""i see that ye are dogs.
i go from you to my own people -- if they be my own people.
the jungle is shut to me, and i must forget your talk and your companionship.
but i will be more merciful than ye are.
because i was all but your brother in blood, i promise that when i am a man among men i will not betray ye to men as ye have betrayed me."
he kicked the fire with his foot, and the sparks flew up.
""there shall be no war between any of us in the pack.
but here is a debt to pay before i go."
he strode forward to where shere khan sat blinking stupidly at the flames, and caught him by the tuft on his chin.
bagheera followed in case of accidents.
""up, dog!"
mowgli cried.
""up, when a man speaks, or i will set that coat ablaze!"
shere khan's ears lay flat back on his head, and he shut his eyes, for the blazing branch was very near.
""this cattle-killer said he would kill me in the council because he had not killed me when i was a cub.
thus and thus, then, do we beat dogs when we are men.
stir a whisker, lungri, and i ram the red flower down thy gullet!"
he beat shere khan over the head with the branch, and the tiger whimpered and whined in an agony of fear.
""pah!
singed jungle cat -- go now!
but remember when next i come to the council rock, as a man should come, it will be with shere khan's hide on my head.
for the rest, akela goes free to live as he pleases.
ye will not kill him, because that is not my will.
nor do i think that ye will sit here any longer, lolling out your tongues as though ye were somebodies, instead of dogs whom i drive out -- thus!
go!"
the fire was burning furiously at the end of the branch, and mowgli struck right and left round the circle, and the wolves ran howling with the sparks burning their fur.
at last there were only akela, bagheera, and perhaps ten wolves that had taken mowgli's part.
then something began to hurt mowgli inside him, as he had never been hurt in his life before, and he caught his breath and sobbed, and the tears ran down his face.
""what is it?
what is it?"
he said.
""i do not wish to leave the jungle, and i do not know what this is.
am i dying, bagheera?"
""no, little brother.
that is only tears such as men use," said bagheera.
""now i know thou art a man, and a man's cub no longer.
the jungle is shut indeed to thee henceforward.
let them fall, mowgli.
they are only tears."
so mowgli sat and cried as though his heart would break; and he had never cried in all his life before.
""now," he said, "i will go to men.
but first i must say farewell to my mother."
and he went to the cave where she lived with father wolf, and he cried on her coat, while the four cubs howled miserably.
""ye will not forget me?"
said mowgli.
""never while we can follow a trail," said the cubs.
""come to the foot of the hill when thou art a man, and we will talk to thee; and we will come into the croplands to play with thee by night."
""come soon!"
said father wolf.
""oh, wise little frog, come again soon; for we be old, thy mother and i." "come soon," said mother wolf, "little naked son of mine.
for, listen, child of man, i loved thee more than ever i loved my cubs."
""i will surely come," said mowgli.
""and when i come it will be to lay out shere khan's hide upon the council rock.
do not forget me!
tell them in the jungle never to forget me!"
the dawn was beginning to break when mowgli went down the hillside alone, to meet those mysterious things that are called men.
hunting-song of the seeonee pack as the dawn was breaking the sambhur belled once, twice and again!
and a doe leaped up, and a doe leaped up from the pond in the wood where the wild deer sup.
this i, scouting alone, beheld, once, twice and again!
as the dawn was breaking the sambhur belled once, twice and again!
and a wolf stole back, and a wolf stole back to carry the word to the waiting pack, and we sought and we found and we bayed on his track once, twice and again!
as the dawn was breaking the wolf pack yelled once, twice and again!
feet in the jungle that leave no mark!
eyes that can see in the dark -- the dark!
tongue -- give tongue to it!
hark!
o hark!
once, twice and again!
kaa's hunting his spots are the joy of the leopard: his horns are the buffalo's pride.
be clean, for the strength of the hunter is known by the gloss of his hide.
if ye find that the bullock can toss you, or the heavy-browed sambhur can gore; ye need not stop work to inform us: we knew it ten seasons before.
oppress not the cubs of the stranger, but hail them as sister and brother, for though they are little and fubsy, it may be the bear is their mother.
""there is none like to me!"
says the cub in the pride of his earliest kill; but the jungle is large and the cub he is small.
let him think and be still.
maxims of baloo all that is told here happened some time before mowgli was turned out of the seeonee wolf pack, or revenged himself on shere khan the tiger.
it was in the days when baloo was teaching him the law of the jungle.
the big, serious, old brown bear was delighted to have so quick a pupil, for the young wolves will only learn as much of the law of the jungle as applies to their own pack and tribe, and run away as soon as they can repeat the hunting verse -- "feet that make no noise; eyes that can see in the dark; ears that can hear the winds in their lairs, and sharp white teeth, all these things are the marks of our brothers except tabaqui the jackal and the hyaena whom we hate."
but mowgli, as a man-cub, had to learn a great deal more than this.
sometimes bagheera the black panther would come lounging through the jungle to see how his pet was getting on, and would purr with his head against a tree while mowgli recited the day's lesson to baloo.
the boy could climb almost as well as he could swim, and swim almost as well as he could run.
so baloo, the teacher of the law, taught him the wood and water laws: how to tell a rotten branch from a sound one; how to speak politely to the wild bees when he came upon a hive of them fifty feet above ground; what to say to mang the bat when he disturbed him in the branches at midday; and how to warn the water-snakes in the pools before he splashed down among them.
none of the jungle people like being disturbed, and all are very ready to fly at an intruder.
then, too, mowgli was taught the strangers" hunting call, which must be repeated aloud till it is answered, whenever one of the jungle-people hunts outside his own grounds.
it means, translated, "give me leave to hunt here because i am hungry."
and the answer is, "hunt then for food, but not for pleasure."
all this will show you how much mowgli had to learn by heart, and he grew very tired of saying the same thing over a hundred times.
but, as baloo said to bagheera, one day when mowgli had been cuffed and run off in a temper, "a man's cub is a man's cub, and he must learn all the law of the jungle."
""but think how small he is," said the black panther, who would have spoiled mowgli if he had had his own way.
""how can his little head carry all thy long talk?"
""is there anything in the jungle too little to be killed?
no.
that is why i teach him these things, and that is why i hit him, very softly, when he forgets."
""softly!
what dost thou know of softness, old iron-feet?"
bagheera grunted.
""his face is all bruised today by thy -- softness.
ugh."
""better he should be bruised from head to foot by me who love him than that he should come to harm through ignorance," baloo answered very earnestly.
""i am now teaching him the master words of the jungle that shall protect him with the birds and the snake people, and all that hunt on four feet, except his own pack.
he can now claim protection, if he will only remember the words, from all in the jungle.
is not that worth a little beating?"
""well, look to it then that thou dost not kill the man-cub.
he is no tree trunk to sharpen thy blunt claws upon.
but what are those master words?
i am more likely to give help than to ask it" -- bagheera stretched out one paw and admired the steel-blue, ripping-chisel talons at the end of it -- "still i should like to know."
""i will call mowgli and he shall say them -- if he will.
come, little brother!"
""my head is ringing like a bee tree," said a sullen little voice over their heads, and mowgli slid down a tree trunk very angry and indignant, adding as he reached the ground: "i come for bagheera and not for thee, fat old baloo!"
""that is all one to me," said baloo, though he was hurt and grieved.
""tell bagheera, then, the master words of the jungle that i have taught thee this day."
""master words for which people?"
said mowgli, delighted to show off.
""the jungle has many tongues.
i know them all."
""a little thou knowest, but not much.
see, o bagheera, they never thank their teacher.
not one small wolfling has ever come back to thank old baloo for his teachings.
say the word for the hunting-people, then -- great scholar."
""we be of one blood, ye and i," said mowgli, giving the words the bear accent which all the hunting people use.
""good.
now for the birds."
mowgli repeated, with the kite's whistle at the end of the sentence.
""now for the snake-people," said bagheera.
the answer was a perfectly indescribable hiss, and mowgli kicked up his feet behind, clapped his hands together to applaud himself, and jumped on to bagheera's back, where he sat sideways, drumming with his heels on the glossy skin and making the worst faces he could think of at baloo.
""there -- there!
that was worth a little bruise," said the brown bear tenderly.
""some day thou wilt remember me."
then he turned aside to tell bagheera how he had begged the master words from hathi the wild elephant, who knows all about these things, and how hathi had taken mowgli down to a pool to get the snake word from a water-snake, because baloo could not pronounce it, and how mowgli was now reasonably safe against all accidents in the jungle, because neither snake, bird, nor beast would hurt him.
""no one then is to be feared," baloo wound up, patting his big furry stomach with pride.
""except his own tribe," said bagheera, under his breath; and then aloud to mowgli, "have a care for my ribs, little brother!
what is all this dancing up and down?"
mowgli had been trying to make himself heard by pulling at bagheera's shoulder fur and kicking hard.
when the two listened to him he was shouting at the top of his voice, "and so i shall have a tribe of my own, and lead them through the branches all day long."
""what is this new folly, little dreamer of dreams?"
said bagheera.
""yes, and throw branches and dirt at old baloo," mowgli went on.
""they have promised me this.
ah!"
""whoof!"
baloo's big paw scooped mowgli off bagheera's back, and as the boy lay between the big fore-paws he could see the bear was angry.
""mowgli," said baloo, "thou hast been talking with the bandar-log -- the monkey people."
mowgli looked at bagheera to see if the panther was angry too, and bagheera's eyes were as hard as jade stones.
""thou hast been with the monkey people -- the gray apes -- the people without a law -- the eaters of everything.
that is great shame."
""when baloo hurt my head," said mowgli -lrb- he was still on his back -rrb-, "i went away, and the gray apes came down from the trees and had pity on me.
no one else cared."
he snuffled a little.
""the pity of the monkey people!"
baloo snorted.
""the stillness of the mountain stream!
the cool of the summer sun!
and then, man-cub?"
""and then, and then, they gave me nuts and pleasant things to eat, and they -- they carried me in their arms up to the top of the trees and said i was their blood brother except that i had no tail, and should be their leader some day."
""they have no leader," said bagheera.
""they lie.
they have always lied."
""they were very kind and bade me come again.
why have i never been taken among the monkey people?
they stand on their feet as i do.
they do not hit me with their hard paws.
they play all day.
let me get up!
bad baloo, let me up!
i will play with them again."
""listen, man-cub," said the bear, and his voice rumbled like thunder on a hot night.
""i have taught thee all the law of the jungle for all the peoples of the jungle -- except the monkey-folk who live in the trees.
they have no law.
they are outcasts.
they have no speech of their own, but use the stolen words which they overhear when they listen, and peep, and wait up above in the branches.
their way is not our way.
they are without leaders.
they have no remembrance.
they boast and chatter and pretend that they are a great people about to do great affairs in the jungle, but the falling of a nut turns their minds to laughter and all is forgotten.
we of the jungle have no dealings with them.
we do not drink where the monkeys drink; we do not go where the monkeys go; we do not hunt where they hunt; we do not die where they die.
hast thou ever heard me speak of the bandar-log till today?"
""no," said mowgli in a whisper, for the forest was very still now baloo had finished.
""the jungle-people put them out of their mouths and out of their minds.
they are very many, evil, dirty, shameless, and they desire, if they have any fixed desire, to be noticed by the jungle people.
but we do not notice them even when they throw nuts and filth on our heads."
he had hardly spoken when a shower of nuts and twigs spattered down through the branches; and they could hear coughings and howlings and angry jumpings high up in the air among the thin branches.
""the monkey-people are forbidden," said baloo, "forbidden to the jungle-people.
remember."
""forbidden," said bagheera, "but i still think baloo should have warned thee against them."
""i -- i?
how was i to guess he would play with such dirt.
the monkey people!
faugh!"
a fresh shower came down on their heads and the two trotted away, taking mowgli with them.
what baloo had said about the monkeys was perfectly true.
they belonged to the tree-tops, and as beasts very seldom look up, there was no occasion for the monkeys and the jungle-people to cross each other's path.
but whenever they found a sick wolf, or a wounded tiger, or bear, the monkeys would torment him, and would throw sticks and nuts at any beast for fun and in the hope of being noticed.
then they would howl and shriek senseless songs, and invite the jungle-people to climb up their trees and fight them, or would start furious battles over nothing among themselves, and leave the dead monkeys where the jungle-people could see them.
they were always just going to have a leader, and laws and customs of their own, but they never did, because their memories would not hold over from day to day, and so they compromised things by making up a saying, "what the bandar-log think now the jungle will think later," and that comforted them a great deal.
none of the beasts could reach them, but on the other hand none of the beasts would notice them, and that was why they were so pleased when mowgli came to play with them, and they heard how angry baloo was.
they never meant to do any more -- the bandar-log never mean anything at all; but one of them invented what seemed to him a brilliant idea, and he told all the others that mowgli would be a useful person to keep in the tribe, because he could weave sticks together for protection from the wind; so, if they caught him, they could make him teach them.
of course mowgli, as a woodcutter's child, inherited all sorts of instincts, and used to make little huts of fallen branches without thinking how he came to do it.
the monkey-people, watching in the trees, considered his play most wonderful.
this time, they said, they were really going to have a leader and become the wisest people in the jungle -- so wise that everyone else would notice and envy them.
therefore they followed baloo and bagheera and mowgli through the jungle very quietly till it was time for the midday nap, and mowgli, who was very much ashamed of himself, slept between the panther and the bear, resolving to have no more to do with the monkey people.
the next thing he remembered was feeling hands on his legs and arms -- hard, strong, little hands -- and then a swash of branches in his face, and then he was staring down through the swaying boughs as baloo woke the jungle with his deep cries and bagheera bounded up the trunk with every tooth bared.
the bandar-log howled with triumph and scuffled away to the upper branches where bagheera dared not follow, shouting: "he has noticed us!
bagheera has noticed us.
all the jungle-people admire us for our skill and our cunning."
then they began their flight; and the flight of the monkey-people through tree-land is one of the things nobody can describe.
they have their regular roads and crossroads, up hills and down hills, all laid out from fifty to seventy or a hundred feet above ground, and by these they can travel even at night if necessary.
two of the strongest monkeys caught mowgli under the arms and swung off with him through the treetops, twenty feet at a bound.
had they been alone they could have gone twice as fast, but the boy's weight held them back.
sick and giddy as mowgli was he could not help enjoying the wild rush, though the glimpses of earth far down below frightened him, and the terrible check and jerk at the end of the swing over nothing but empty air brought his heart between his teeth.
his escort would rush him up a tree till he felt the thinnest topmost branches crackle and bend under them, and then with a cough and a whoop would fling themselves into the air outward and downward, and bring up, hanging by their hands or their feet to the lower limbs of the next tree.
sometimes he could see for miles and miles across the still green jungle, as a man on the top of a mast can see for miles across the sea, and then the branches and leaves would lash him across the face, and he and his two guards would be almost down to earth again.
so, bounding and crashing and whooping and yelling, the whole tribe of bandar-log swept along the tree-roads with mowgli their prisoner.
for a time he was afraid of being dropped.
then he grew angry but knew better than to struggle, and then he began to think.
the first thing was to send back word to baloo and bagheera, for, at the pace the monkeys were going, he knew his friends would be left far behind.
it was useless to look down, for he could only see the topsides of the branches, so he stared upward and saw, far away in the blue, rann the kite balancing and wheeling as he kept watch over the jungle waiting for things to die.
rann saw that the monkeys were carrying something, and dropped a few hundred yards to find out whether their load was good to eat.
he whistled with surprise when he saw mowgli being dragged up to a treetop and heard him give the kite call for -- "we be of one blood, thou and i." the waves of the branches closed over the boy, but rann balanced away to the next tree in time to see the little brown face come up again.
""mark my trail!"
mowgli shouted.
""tell baloo of the seeonee pack and bagheera of the council rock."
""in whose name, brother?"
rann had never seen mowgli before, though of course he had heard of him.
""mowgli, the frog.
man-cub they call me!
mark my trail!"
the last words were shrieked as he was being swung through the air, but rann nodded and rose up till he looked no bigger than a speck of dust, and there he hung, watching with his telescope eyes the swaying of the treetops as mowgli's escort whirled along.
""they never go far," he said with a chuckle.
""they never do what they set out to do.
always pecking at new things are the bandar-log.
this time, if i have any eye-sight, they have pecked down trouble for themselves, for baloo is no fledgling and bagheera can, as i know, kill more than goats."
so he rocked on his wings, his feet gathered up under him, and waited.
meantime, baloo and bagheera were furious with rage and grief.
bagheera climbed as he had never climbed before, but the thin branches broke beneath his weight, and he slipped down, his claws full of bark.
""why didst thou not warn the man-cub?"
he roared to poor baloo, who had set off at a clumsy trot in the hope of overtaking the monkeys.
""what was the use of half slaying him with blows if thou didst not warn him?"
""haste!
o haste!
we -- we may catch them yet!"
baloo panted.
""at that speed!
it would not tire a wounded cow.
teacher of the law -- cub-beater -- a mile of that rolling to and fro would burst thee open.
sit still and think!
make a plan.
this is no time for chasing.
they may drop him if we follow too close."
""arrula!
whoo!
they may have dropped him already, being tired of carrying him.
who can trust the bandar-log?
put dead bats on my head!
give me black bones to eat!
roll me into the hives of the wild bees that i may be stung to death, and bury me with the hyaena, for i am most miserable of bears!
arulala!
wahooa!
o mowgli, mowgli!
why did i not warn thee against the monkey-folk instead of breaking thy head?
now perhaps i may have knocked the day's lesson out of his mind, and he will be alone in the jungle without the master words."
baloo clasped his paws over his ears and rolled to and fro moaning.
""at least he gave me all the words correctly a little time ago," said bagheera impatiently.
""baloo, thou hast neither memory nor respect.
what would the jungle think if i, the black panther, curled myself up like ikki the porcupine, and howled?"
""what do i care what the jungle thinks?
he may be dead by now."
""unless and until they drop him from the branches in sport, or kill him out of idleness, i have no fear for the man-cub.
he is wise and well taught, and above all he has the eyes that make the jungle-people afraid.
but -lrb- and it is a great evil -rrb- he is in the power of the bandar-log, and they, because they live in trees, have no fear of any of our people."
bagheera licked one forepaw thoughtfully.
""fool that i am!
oh, fat, brown, root-digging fool that i am," said baloo, uncoiling himself with a jerk, "it is true what hathi the wild elephant says: "to each his own fear"; and they, the bandar-log, fear kaa the rock snake.
he can climb as well as they can.
he steals the young monkeys in the night.
the whisper of his name makes their wicked tails cold.
let us go to kaa."
""what will he do for us?
he is not of our tribe, being footless -- and with most evil eyes," said bagheera.
""he is very old and very cunning.
above all, he is always hungry," said baloo hopefully.
""promise him many goats."
""he sleeps for a full month after he has once eaten.
he may be asleep now, and even were he awake what if he would rather kill his own goats?"
bagheera, who did not know much about kaa, was naturally suspicious.
""then in that case, thou and i together, old hunter, might make him see reason."
here baloo rubbed his faded brown shoulder against the panther, and they went off to look for kaa the rock python.
they found him stretched out on a warm ledge in the afternoon sun, admiring his beautiful new coat, for he had been in retirement for the last ten days changing his skin, and now he was very splendid -- darting his big blunt-nosed head along the ground, and twisting the thirty feet of his body into fantastic knots and curves, and licking his lips as he thought of his dinner to come.
""he has not eaten," said baloo, with a grunt of relief, as soon as he saw the beautifully mottled brown and yellow jacket.
""be careful, bagheera!
he is always a little blind after he has changed his skin, and very quick to strike."
kaa was not a poison snake -- in fact he rather despised the poison snakes as cowards -- but his strength lay in his hug, and when he had once lapped his huge coils round anybody there was no more to be said.
""good hunting!"
cried baloo, sitting up on his haunches.
like all snakes of his breed kaa was rather deaf, and did not hear the call at first.
then he curled up ready for any accident, his head lowered.
""good hunting for us all," he answered.
""oho, baloo, what dost thou do here?
good hunting, bagheera.
one of us at least needs food.
is there any news of game afoot?
a doe now, or even a young buck?
i am as empty as a dried well."
""we are hunting," said baloo carelessly.
he knew that you must not hurry kaa.
he is too big.
""give me permission to come with you," said kaa.
""a blow more or less is nothing to thee, bagheera or baloo, but i -- i have to wait and wait for days in a wood-path and climb half a night on the mere chance of a young ape.
psshaw!
the branches are not what they were when i was young.
rotten twigs and dry boughs are they all."
""maybe thy great weight has something to do with the matter," said baloo.
""i am a fair length -- a fair length," said kaa with a little pride.
""but for all that, it is the fault of this new-grown timber.
i came very near to falling on my last hunt -- very near indeed -- and the noise of my slipping, for my tail was not tight wrapped around the tree, waked the bandar-log, and they called me most evil names."
""footless, yellow earth-worm," said bagheera under his whiskers, as though he were trying to remember something.
""sssss!
have they ever called me that?"
said kaa.
""something of that kind it was that they shouted to us last moon, but we never noticed them.
they will say anything -- even that thou hast lost all thy teeth, and wilt not face anything bigger than a kid, because -lrb- they are indeed shameless, these bandar-log -rrb- -- because thou art afraid of the he-goat's horns," bagheera went on sweetly.
now a snake, especially a wary old python like kaa, very seldom shows that he is angry, but baloo and bagheera could see the big swallowing muscles on either side of kaa's throat ripple and bulge.
""the bandar-log have shifted their grounds," he said quietly.
""when i came up into the sun today i heard them whooping among the tree-tops."
""it -- it is the bandar-log that we follow now," said baloo, but the words stuck in his throat, for that was the first time in his memory that one of the jungle-people had owned to being interested in the doings of the monkeys.
""beyond doubt then it is no small thing that takes two such hunters -- leaders in their own jungle i am certain -- on the trail of the bandar-log," kaa replied courteously, as he swelled with curiosity.
""indeed," baloo began, "i am no more than the old and sometimes very foolish teacher of the law to the seeonee wolf-cubs, and bagheera here --" "is bagheera," said the black panther, and his jaws shut with a snap, for he did not believe in being humble.
""the trouble is this, kaa.
those nut-stealers and pickers of palm leaves have stolen away our man-cub of whom thou hast perhaps heard."
""i heard some news from ikki -lrb- his quills make him presumptuous -rrb- of a man-thing that was entered into a wolf pack, but i did not believe.
ikki is full of stories half heard and very badly told."
""but it is true.
he is such a man-cub as never was," said baloo.
""the best and wisest and boldest of man-cubs -- my own pupil, who shall make the name of baloo famous through all the jungles; and besides, i -- we -- love him, kaa."
""ts!
ts!"
said kaa, weaving his head to and fro.
""i also have known what love is.
there are tales i could tell that --" "that need a clear night when we are all well fed to praise properly," said bagheera quickly.
""our man-cub is in the hands of the bandar-log now, and we know that of all the jungle-people they fear kaa alone."
""they fear me alone.
they have good reason," said kaa.
""chattering, foolish, vain -- vain, foolish, and chattering, are the monkeys.
but a man-thing in their hands is in no good luck.
they grow tired of the nuts they pick, and throw them down.
they carry a branch half a day, meaning to do great things with it, and then they snap it in two.
that man-thing is not to be envied.
they called me also -- "yellow fish" was it not?"
""worm -- worm -- earth-worm," said bagheera, "as well as other things which i can not now say for shame."
""we must remind them to speak well of their master.
aaa-ssp!
we must help their wandering memories.
now, whither went they with the cub?"
""the jungle alone knows.
toward the sunset, i believe," said baloo.
""we had thought that thou wouldst know, kaa."
""i?
how?
i take them when they come in my way, but i do not hunt the bandar-log, or frogs -- or green scum on a water-hole, for that matter."
""up, up!
up, up!
hillo!
illo!
illo, look up, baloo of the seeonee wolf pack!"
baloo looked up to see where the voice came from, and there was rann the kite, sweeping down with the sun shining on the upturned flanges of his wings.
it was near rann's bedtime, but he had ranged all over the jungle looking for the bear and had missed him in the thick foliage.
""what is it?"
said baloo.
""i have seen mowgli among the bandar-log.
he bade me tell you.
i watched.
the bandar-log have taken him beyond the river to the monkey city -- to the cold lairs.
they may stay there for a night, or ten nights, or an hour.
i have told the bats to watch through the dark time.
that is my message.
good hunting, all you below!"
""full gorge and a deep sleep to you, rann," cried bagheera.
""i will remember thee in my next kill, and put aside the head for thee alone, o best of kites!"
""it is nothing.
it is nothing.
the boy held the master word.
i could have done no less," and rann circled up again to his roost.
""he has not forgotten to use his tongue," said baloo with a chuckle of pride.
""to think of one so young remembering the master word for the birds too while he was being pulled across trees!"
""it was most firmly driven into him," said bagheera.
""but i am proud of him, and now we must go to the cold lairs."
they all knew where that place was, but few of the jungle people ever went there, because what they called the cold lairs was an old deserted city, lost and buried in the jungle, and beasts seldom use a place that men have once used.
the wild boar will, but the hunting tribes do not.
besides, the monkeys lived there as much as they could be said to live anywhere, and no self-respecting animal would come within eyeshot of it except in times of drought, when the half-ruined tanks and reservoirs held a little water.
""it is half a night's journey -- at full speed," said bagheera, and baloo looked very serious.
""i will go as fast as i can," he said anxiously.
""we dare not wait for thee.
follow, baloo.
we must go on the quick-foot -- kaa and i." "feet or no feet, i can keep abreast of all thy four," said kaa shortly.
baloo made one effort to hurry, but had to sit down panting, and so they left him to come on later, while bagheera hurried forward, at the quick panther-canter.
kaa said nothing, but, strive as bagheera might, the huge rock-python held level with him.
when they came to a hill stream, bagheera gained, because he bounded across while kaa swam, his head and two feet of his neck clearing the water, but on level ground kaa made up the distance.
""by the broken lock that freed me," said bagheera, when twilight had fallen, "thou art no slow goer!"
""i am hungry," said kaa.
""besides, they called me speckled frog."
""worm -- earth-worm, and yellow to boot."
""all one.
let us go on," and kaa seemed to pour himself along the ground, finding the shortest road with his steady eyes, and keeping to it.
in the cold lairs the monkey-people were not thinking of mowgli's friends at all.
they had brought the boy to the lost city, and were very much pleased with themselves for the time.
mowgli had never seen an indian city before, and though this was almost a heap of ruins it seemed very wonderful and splendid.
some king had built it long ago on a little hill.
you could still trace the stone causeways that led up to the ruined gates where the last splinters of wood hung to the worn, rusted hinges.
trees had grown into and out of the walls; the battlements were tumbled down and decayed, and wild creepers hung out of the windows of the towers on the walls in bushy hanging clumps.
a great roofless palace crowned the hill, and the marble of the courtyards and the fountains was split, and stained with red and green, and the very cobblestones in the courtyard where the king's elephants used to live had been thrust up and apart by grasses and young trees.
from the palace you could see the rows and rows of roofless houses that made up the city looking like empty honeycombs filled with blackness; the shapeless block of stone that had been an idol in the square where four roads met; the pits and dimples at street corners where the public wells once stood, and the shattered domes of temples with wild figs sprouting on their sides.
the monkeys called the place their city, and pretended to despise the jungle-people because they lived in the forest.
and yet they never knew what the buildings were made for nor how to use them.
they would sit in circles on the hall of the king's council chamber, and scratch for fleas and pretend to be men; or they would run in and out of the roofless houses and collect pieces of plaster and old bricks in a corner, and forget where they had hidden them, and fight and cry in scuffling crowds, and then break off to play up and down the terraces of the king's garden, where they would shake the rose trees and the oranges in sport to see the fruit and flowers fall.
they explored all the passages and dark tunnels in the palace and the hundreds of little dark rooms, but they never remembered what they had seen and what they had not; and so drifted about in ones and twos or crowds telling each other that they were doing as men did.
they drank at the tanks and made the water all muddy, and then they fought over it, and then they would all rush together in mobs and shout: "there is no one in the jungle so wise and good and clever and strong and gentle as the bandar-log."
then all would begin again till they grew tired of the city and went back to the tree-tops, hoping the jungle-people would notice them.
mowgli, who had been trained under the law of the jungle, did not like or understand this kind of life.
the monkeys dragged him into the cold lairs late in the afternoon, and instead of going to sleep, as mowgli would have done after a long journey, they joined hands and danced about and sang their foolish songs.
one of the monkeys made a speech and told his companions that mowgli's capture marked a new thing in the history of the bandar-log, for mowgli was going to show them how to weave sticks and canes together as a protection against rain and cold.
mowgli picked up some creepers and began to work them in and out, and the monkeys tried to imitate; but in a very few minutes they lost interest and began to pull their friends" tails or jump up and down on all fours, coughing.
""i wish to eat," said mowgli.
""i am a stranger in this part of the jungle.
bring me food, or give me leave to hunt here."
twenty or thirty monkeys bounded away to bring him nuts and wild pawpaws.
but they fell to fighting on the road, and it was too much trouble to go back with what was left of the fruit.
mowgli was sore and angry as well as hungry, and he roamed through the empty city giving the strangers" hunting call from time to time, but no one answered him, and mowgli felt that he had reached a very bad place indeed.
""all that baloo has said about the bandar-log is true," he thought to himself.
""they have no law, no hunting call, and no leaders -- nothing but foolish words and little picking thievish hands.
so if i am starved or killed here, it will be all my own fault.
but i must try to return to my own jungle.
baloo will surely beat me, but that is better than chasing silly rose leaves with the bandar-log."
no sooner had he walked to the city wall than the monkeys pulled him back, telling him that he did not know how happy he was, and pinching him to make him grateful.
he set his teeth and said nothing, but went with the shouting monkeys to a terrace above the red sandstone reservoirs that were half-full of rain water.
there was a ruined summer-house of white marble in the center of the terrace, built for queens dead a hundred years ago.
the domed roof had half fallen in and blocked up the underground passage from the palace by which the queens used to enter.
but the walls were made of screens of marble tracery -- beautiful milk-white fretwork, set with agates and cornelians and jasper and lapis lazuli, and as the moon came up behind the hill it shone through the open work, casting shadows on the ground like black velvet embroidery.
sore, sleepy, and hungry as he was, mowgli could not help laughing when the bandar-log began, twenty at a time, to tell him how great and wise and strong and gentle they were, and how foolish he was to wish to leave them.
""we are great.
we are free.
we are wonderful.
we are the most wonderful people in all the jungle!
we all say so, and so it must be true," they shouted.
""now as you are a new listener and can carry our words back to the jungle-people so that they may notice us in future, we will tell you all about our most excellent selves."
mowgli made no objection, and the monkeys gathered by hundreds and hundreds on the terrace to listen to their own speakers singing the praises of the bandar-log, and whenever a speaker stopped for want of breath they would all shout together: "this is true; we all say so."
mowgli nodded and blinked, and said "yes" when they asked him a question, and his head spun with the noise.
""tabaqui the jackal must have bitten all these people," he said to himself, "and now they have madness.
certainly this is dewanee, the madness.
do they never go to sleep?
now there is a cloud coming to cover that moon.
if it were only a big enough cloud i might try to run away in the darkness.
but i am tired."
that same cloud was being watched by two good friends in the ruined ditch below the city wall, for bagheera and kaa, knowing well how dangerous the monkey-people were in large numbers, did not wish to run any risks.
the monkeys never fight unless they are a hundred to one, and few in the jungle care for those odds.
""i will go to the west wall," kaa whispered, "and come down swiftly with the slope of the ground in my favor.
they will not throw themselves upon my back in their hundreds, but --" "i know it," said bagheera.
""would that baloo were here, but we must do what we can.
when that cloud covers the moon i shall go to the terrace.
they hold some sort of council there over the boy."
""good hunting," said kaa grimly, and glided away to the west wall.
that happened to be the least ruined of any, and the big snake was delayed awhile before he could find a way up the stones.
the cloud hid the moon, and as mowgli wondered what would come next he heard bagheera's light feet on the terrace.
the black panther had raced up the slope almost without a sound and was striking -- he knew better than to waste time in biting -- right and left among the monkeys, who were seated round mowgli in circles fifty and sixty deep.
there was a howl of fright and rage, and then as bagheera tripped on the rolling kicking bodies beneath him, a monkey shouted: "there is only one here!
kill him!
kill."
a scuffling mass of monkeys, biting, scratching, tearing, and pulling, closed over bagheera, while five or six laid hold of mowgli, dragged him up the wall of the summerhouse and pushed him through the hole of the broken dome.
a man-trained boy would have been badly bruised, for the fall was a good fifteen feet, but mowgli fell as baloo had taught him to fall, and landed on his feet.
""stay there," shouted the monkeys, "till we have killed thy friends, and later we will play with thee -- if the poison-people leave thee alive."
""we be of one blood, ye and i," said mowgli, quickly giving the snake's call.
he could hear rustling and hissing in the rubbish all round him and gave the call a second time, to make sure.
""even ssso!
down hoods all!"
said half a dozen low voices -lrb- every ruin in india becomes sooner or later a dwelling place of snakes, and the old summerhouse was alive with cobras -rrb-.
""stand still, little brother, for thy feet may do us harm."
mowgli stood as quietly as he could, peering through the open work and listening to the furious din of the fight round the black panther -- the yells and chatterings and scufflings, and bagheera's deep, hoarse cough as he backed and bucked and twisted and plunged under the heaps of his enemies.
for the first time since he was born, bagheera was fighting for his life.
""baloo must be at hand; bagheera would not have come alone," mowgli thought.
and then he called aloud: "to the tank, bagheera.
roll to the water tanks.
roll and plunge!
get to the water!"
bagheera heard, and the cry that told him mowgli was safe gave him new courage.
he worked his way desperately, inch by inch, straight for the reservoirs, halting in silence.
then from the ruined wall nearest the jungle rose up the rumbling war-shout of baloo.
the old bear had done his best, but he could not come before.
""bagheera," he shouted, "i am here.
i climb!
i haste!
ahuwora!
the stones slip under my feet!
wait my coming, o most infamous bandar-log!"
he panted up the terrace only to disappear to the head in a wave of monkeys, but he threw himself squarely on his haunches, and, spreading out his forepaws, hugged as many as he could hold, and then began to hit with a regular bat-bat-bat, like the flipping strokes of a paddle wheel.
a crash and a splash told mowgli that bagheera had fought his way to the tank where the monkeys could not follow.
the panther lay gasping for breath, his head just out of the water, while the monkeys stood three deep on the red steps, dancing up and down with rage, ready to spring upon him from all sides if he came out to help baloo.
it was then that bagheera lifted up his dripping chin, and in despair gave the snake's call for protection -- "we be of one blood, ye and i" -- for he believed that kaa had turned tail at the last minute.
even baloo, half smothered under the monkeys on the edge of the terrace, could not help chuckling as he heard the black panther asking for help.
kaa had only just worked his way over the west wall, landing with a wrench that dislodged a coping stone into the ditch.
he had no intention of losing any advantage of the ground, and coiled and uncoiled himself once or twice, to be sure that every foot of his long body was in working order.
all that while the fight with baloo went on, and the monkeys yelled in the tank round bagheera, and mang the bat, flying to and fro, carried the news of the great battle over the jungle, till even hathi the wild elephant trumpeted, and, far away, scattered bands of the monkey-folk woke and came leaping along the tree-roads to help their comrades in the cold lairs, and the noise of the fight roused all the day birds for miles round.
then kaa came straight, quickly, and anxious to kill.
the fighting strength of a python is in the driving blow of his head backed by all the strength and weight of his body.
if you can imagine a lance, or a battering ram, or a hammer weighing nearly half a ton driven by a cool, quiet mind living in the handle of it, you can roughly imagine what kaa was like when he fought.
a python four or five feet long can knock a man down if he hits him fairly in the chest, and kaa was thirty feet long, as you know.
his first stroke was delivered into the heart of the crowd round baloo.
it was sent home with shut mouth in silence, and there was no need of a second.
the monkeys scattered with cries of -- "kaa!
it is kaa!
run!
run!"
generations of monkeys had been scared into good behavior by the stories their elders told them of kaa, the night thief, who could slip along the branches as quietly as moss grows, and steal away the strongest monkey that ever lived; of old kaa, who could make himself look so like a dead branch or a rotten stump that the wisest were deceived, till the branch caught them.
kaa was everything that the monkeys feared in the jungle, for none of them knew the limits of his power, none of them could look him in the face, and none had ever come alive out of his hug.
and so they ran, stammering with terror, to the walls and the roofs of the houses, and baloo drew a deep breath of relief.
his fur was much thicker than bagheera's, but he had suffered sorely in the fight.
then kaa opened his mouth for the first time and spoke one long hissing word, and the far-away monkeys, hurrying to the defense of the cold lairs, stayed where they were, cowering, till the loaded branches bent and crackled under them.
the monkeys on the walls and the empty houses stopped their cries, and in the stillness that fell upon the city mowgli heard bagheera shaking his wet sides as he came up from the tank.
then the clamor broke out again.
the monkeys leaped higher up the walls.
they clung around the necks of the big stone idols and shrieked as they skipped along the battlements, while mowgli, dancing in the summerhouse, put his eye to the screenwork and hooted owl-fashion between his front teeth, to show his derision and contempt.
""get the man-cub out of that trap; i can do no more," bagheera gasped.
""let us take the man-cub and go.
they may attack again."
""they will not move till i order them.
stay you sssso!"
kaa hissed, and the city was silent once more.
""i could not come before, brother, but i think i heard thee call" -- this was to bagheera.
""i -- i may have cried out in the battle," bagheera answered.
""baloo, art thou hurt?
""i am not sure that they did not pull me into a hundred little bearlings," said baloo, gravely shaking one leg after the other.
""wow!
i am sore.
kaa, we owe thee, i think, our lives -- bagheera and i." "no matter.
where is the manling?"
""here, in a trap.
i can not climb out," cried mowgli.
the curve of the broken dome was above his head.
""take him away.
he dances like mao the peacock.
he will crush our young," said the cobras inside.
""hah!"
said kaa with a chuckle, "he has friends everywhere, this manling.
stand back, manling.
and hide you, o poison people.
i break down the wall."
kaa looked carefully till he found a discolored crack in the marble tracery showing a weak spot, made two or three light taps with his head to get the distance, and then lifting up six feet of his body clear of the ground, sent home half a dozen full-power smashing blows, nose-first.
the screen-work broke and fell away in a cloud of dust and rubbish, and mowgli leaped through the opening and flung himself between baloo and bagheera -- an arm around each big neck.
""art thou hurt?"
said baloo, hugging him softly.
""i am sore, hungry, and not a little bruised.
but, oh, they have handled ye grievously, my brothers!
ye bleed."
""others also," said bagheera, licking his lips and looking at the monkey-dead on the terrace and round the tank.
""it is nothing, it is nothing, if thou art safe, oh, my pride of all little frogs!"
whimpered baloo.
""of that we shall judge later," said bagheera, in a dry voice that mowgli did not at all like.
""but here is kaa to whom we owe the battle and thou owest thy life.
thank him according to our customs, mowgli."
mowgli turned and saw the great python's head swaying a foot above his own.
""so this is the manling," said kaa.
""very soft is his skin, and he is not unlike the bandar-log.
have a care, manling, that i do not mistake thee for a monkey some twilight when i have newly changed my coat."
""we be one blood, thou and i," mowgli answered.
""i take my life from thee tonight.
my kill shall be thy kill if ever thou art hungry, o kaa."
""all thanks, little brother," said kaa, though his eyes twinkled.
""and what may so bold a hunter kill?
i ask that i may follow when next he goes abroad."
""i kill nothing, -- i am too little, -- but i drive goats toward such as can use them.
when thou art empty come to me and see if i speak the truth.
i have some skill in these -lsb- he held out his hands -rsb-, and if ever thou art in a trap, i may pay the debt which i owe to thee, to bagheera, and to baloo, here.
good hunting to ye all, my masters."
""well said," growled baloo, for mowgli had returned thanks very prettily.
the python dropped his head lightly for a minute on mowgli's shoulder.
""a brave heart and a courteous tongue," said he.
""they shall carry thee far through the jungle, manling.
but now go hence quickly with thy friends.
go and sleep, for the moon sets, and what follows it is not well that thou shouldst see."
the moon was sinking behind the hills and the lines of trembling monkeys huddled together on the walls and battlements looked like ragged shaky fringes of things.
baloo went down to the tank for a drink and bagheera began to put his fur in order, as kaa glided out into the center of the terrace and brought his jaws together with a ringing snap that drew all the monkeys" eyes upon him.
""the moon sets," he said.
""is there yet light enough to see?"
from the walls came a moan like the wind in the tree-tops -- "we see, o kaa."
""good.
begins now the dance -- the dance of the hunger of kaa.
sit still and watch."
he turned twice or thrice in a big circle, weaving his head from right to left.
then he began making loops and figures of eight with his body, and soft, oozy triangles that melted into squares and five-sided figures, and coiled mounds, never resting, never hurrying, and never stopping his low humming song.
it grew darker and darker, till at last the dragging, shifting coils disappeared, but they could hear the rustle of the scales.
baloo and bagheera stood still as stone, growling in their throats, their neck hair bristling, and mowgli watched and wondered.
""bandar-log," said the voice of kaa at last, "can ye stir foot or hand without my order?
speak!"
""without thy order we can not stir foot or hand, o kaa!"
""good!
come all one pace nearer to me."
the lines of the monkeys swayed forward helplessly, and baloo and bagheera took one stiff step forward with them.
""nearer!"
hissed kaa, and they all moved again.
mowgli laid his hands on baloo and bagheera to get them away, and the two great beasts started as though they had been waked from a dream.
""keep thy hand on my shoulder," bagheera whispered.
""keep it there, or i must go back -- must go back to kaa.
aah!"
""it is only old kaa making circles on the dust," said mowgli.
""let us go."
and the three slipped off through a gap in the walls to the jungle.
""whoof!"
said baloo, when he stood under the still trees again.
""never more will i make an ally of kaa," and he shook himself all over.
""he knows more than we," said bagheera, trembling.
""in a little time, had i stayed, i should have walked down his throat."
""many will walk by that road before the moon rises again," said baloo.
""he will have good hunting -- after his own fashion."
""but what was the meaning of it all?"
said mowgli, who did not know anything of a python's powers of fascination.
""i saw no more than a big snake making foolish circles till the dark came.
and his nose was all sore.
ho!
ho!"
""mowgli," said bagheera angrily, "his nose was sore on thy account, as my ears and sides and paws, and baloo's neck and shoulders are bitten on thy account.
neither baloo nor bagheera will be able to hunt with pleasure for many days."
""it is nothing," said baloo; "we have the man-cub again."
""true, but he has cost us heavily in time which might have been spent in good hunting, in wounds, in hair -- i am half plucked along my back -- and last of all, in honor.
for, remember, mowgli, i, who am the black panther, was forced to call upon kaa for protection, and baloo and i were both made stupid as little birds by the hunger dance.
all this, man-cub, came of thy playing with the bandar-log."
""true, it is true," said mowgli sorrowfully.
""i am an evil man-cub, and my stomach is sad in me."
""mf!
what says the law of the jungle, baloo?"
baloo did not wish to bring mowgli into any more trouble, but he could not tamper with the law, so he mumbled: "sorrow never stays punishment.
but remember, bagheera, he is very little."
""i will remember.
but he has done mischief, and blows must be dealt now.
mowgli, hast thou anything to say?"
""nothing.
i did wrong.
baloo and thou are wounded.
it is just."
bagheera gave him half a dozen love-taps from a panther's point of view -lrb- they would hardly have waked one of his own cubs -rrb-, but for a seven-year-old boy they amounted to as severe a beating as you could wish to avoid.
when it was all over mowgli sneezed, and picked himself up without a word.
""now," said bagheera, "jump on my back, little brother, and we will go home."
one of the beauties of jungle law is that punishment settles all scores.
there is no nagging afterward.
mowgli laid his head down on bagheera's back and slept so deeply that he never waked when he was put down in the home-cave.
road-song of the bandar-log here we go in a flung festoon, half-way up to the jealous moon!
do n't you envy our pranceful bands?
do n't you wish you had extra hands?
would n't you like if your tails were -- so -- curved in the shape of a cupid's bow?
now you're angry, but -- never mind, brother, thy tail hangs down behind!
here we sit in a branchy row, thinking of beautiful things we know; dreaming of deeds that we mean to do, all complete, in a minute or two -- something noble and wise and good, done by merely wishing we could.
we've forgotten, but -- never mind, brother, thy tail hangs down behind!
all the talk we ever have heard uttered by bat or beast or bird -- hide or fin or scale or feather -- jabber it quickly and all together!
excellent!
wonderful!
once again!
now we are talking just like men!
let's pretend we are... never mind, brother, thy tail hangs down behind!
this is the way of the monkey-kind.
then join our leaping lines that scumfish through the pines, that rocket by where, light and high, the wild grape swings.
by the rubbish in our wake, and the noble noise we make, be sure, be sure, we're going to do some splendid things!
""tiger!
tiger!"
what of the hunting, hunter bold?
brother, the watch was long and cold.
what of the quarry ye went to kill?
brother, he crops in the jungle still.
where is the power that made your pride?
brother, it ebbs from my flank and side.
where is the haste that ye hurry by?
brother, i go to my lair -- to die.
now we must go back to the first tale.
when mowgli left the wolf's cave after the fight with the pack at the council rock, he went down to the plowed lands where the villagers lived, but he would not stop there because it was too near to the jungle, and he knew that he had made at least one bad enemy at the council.
so he hurried on, keeping to the rough road that ran down the valley, and followed it at a steady jog-trot for nearly twenty miles, till he came to a country that he did not know.
the valley opened out into a great plain dotted over with rocks and cut up by ravines.
at one end stood a little village, and at the other the thick jungle came down in a sweep to the grazing-grounds, and stopped there as though it had been cut off with a hoe.
all over the plain, cattle and buffaloes were grazing, and when the little boys in charge of the herds saw mowgli they shouted and ran away, and the yellow pariah dogs that hang about every indian village barked.
mowgli walked on, for he was feeling hungry, and when he came to the village gate he saw the big thorn-bush that was drawn up before the gate at twilight, pushed to one side.
""umph!"
he said, for he had come across more than one such barricade in his night rambles after things to eat.
""so men are afraid of the people of the jungle here also."
he sat down by the gate, and when a man came out he stood up, opened his mouth, and pointed down it to show that he wanted food.
the man stared, and ran back up the one street of the village shouting for the priest, who was a big, fat man dressed in white, with a red and yellow mark on his forehead.
the priest came to the gate, and with him at least a hundred people, who stared and talked and shouted and pointed at mowgli.
""they have no manners, these men folk," said mowgli to himself.
""only the gray ape would behave as they do."
so he threw back his long hair and frowned at the crowd.
""what is there to be afraid of?"
said the priest.
""look at the marks on his arms and legs.
they are the bites of wolves.
he is but a wolf-child run away from the jungle."
of course, in playing together, the cubs had often nipped mowgli harder than they intended, and there were white scars all over his arms and legs.
but he would have been the last person in the world to call these bites, for he knew what real biting meant.
""arre!
arre!"
said two or three women together.
""to be bitten by wolves, poor child!
he is a handsome boy.
he has eyes like red fire.
by my honor, messua, he is not unlike thy boy that was taken by the tiger."
""let me look," said a woman with heavy copper rings on her wrists and ankles, and she peered at mowgli under the palm of her hand.
""indeed he is not.
he is thinner, but he has the very look of my boy."
the priest was a clever man, and he knew that messua was wife to the richest villager in the place.
so he looked up at the sky for a minute and said solemnly: "what the jungle has taken the jungle has restored.
take the boy into thy house, my sister, and forget not to honor the priest who sees so far into the lives of men."
""by the bull that bought me," said mowgli to himself, "but all this talking is like another looking-over by the pack!
well, if i am a man, a man i must become."
the crowd parted as the woman beckoned mowgli to her hut, where there was a red lacquered bedstead, a great earthen grain chest with funny raised patterns on it, half a dozen copper cooking pots, an image of a hindu god in a little alcove, and on the wall a real looking glass, such as they sell at the country fairs.
she gave him a long drink of milk and some bread, and then she laid her hand on his head and looked into his eyes; for she thought perhaps that he might be her real son come back from the jungle where the tiger had taken him.
so she said, "nathoo, o nathoo!"
mowgli did not show that he knew the name.
""dost thou not remember the day when i gave thee thy new shoes?"
she touched his foot, and it was almost as hard as horn.
""no," she said sorrowfully, "those feet have never worn shoes, but thou art very like my nathoo, and thou shalt be my son."
mowgli was uneasy, because he had never been under a roof before.
but as he looked at the thatch, he saw that he could tear it out any time if he wanted to get away, and that the window had no fastenings.
""what is the good of a man," he said to himself at last, "if he does not understand man's talk?
now i am as silly and dumb as a man would be with us in the jungle.
i must speak their talk."
it was not for fun that he had learned while he was with the wolves to imitate the challenge of bucks in the jungle and the grunt of the little wild pig.
so, as soon as messua pronounced a word mowgli would imitate it almost perfectly, and before dark he had learned the names of many things in the hut.
there was a difficulty at bedtime, because mowgli would not sleep under anything that looked so like a panther trap as that hut, and when they shut the door he went through the window.
""give him his will," said messua's husband.
""remember he can never till now have slept on a bed.
if he is indeed sent in the place of our son he will not run away."
so mowgli stretched himself in some long, clean grass at the edge of the field, but before he had closed his eyes a soft gray nose poked him under the chin.
""phew!"
said gray brother -lrb- he was the eldest of mother wolf's cubs -rrb-.
""this is a poor reward for following thee twenty miles.
thou smellest of wood smoke and cattle -- altogether like a man already.
wake, little brother; i bring news."
""are all well in the jungle?"
said mowgli, hugging him.
""all except the wolves that were burned with the red flower.
now, listen.
shere khan has gone away to hunt far off till his coat grows again, for he is badly singed.
when he returns he swears that he will lay thy bones in the waingunga."
""there are two words to that.
i also have made a little promise.
but news is always good.
i am tired to-night, -- very tired with new things, gray brother, -- but bring me the news always."
""thou wilt not forget that thou art a wolf?
men will not make thee forget?"
said gray brother anxiously.
""never.
i will always remember that i love thee and all in our cave.
but also i will always remember that i have been cast out of the pack."
""and that thou mayest be cast out of another pack.
men are only men, little brother, and their talk is like the talk of frogs in a pond.
when i come down here again, i will wait for thee in the bamboos at the edge of the grazing-ground."
for three months after that night mowgli hardly ever left the village gate, he was so busy learning the ways and customs of men.
first he had to wear a cloth round him, which annoyed him horribly; and then he had to learn about money, which he did not in the least understand, and about plowing, of which he did not see the use.
then the little children in the village made him very angry.
luckily, the law of the jungle had taught him to keep his temper, for in the jungle life and food depend on keeping your temper; but when they made fun of him because he would not play games or fly kites, or because he mispronounced some word, only the knowledge that it was unsportsmanlike to kill little naked cubs kept him from picking them up and breaking them in two.
he did not know his own strength in the least.
in the jungle he knew he was weak compared with the beasts, but in the village people said that he was as strong as a bull.
and mowgli had not the faintest idea of the difference that caste makes between man and man.
when the potter's donkey slipped in the clay pit, mowgli hauled it out by the tail, and helped to stack the pots for their journey to the market at khanhiwara.
that was very shocking, too, for the potter is a low-caste man, and his donkey is worse.
when the priest scolded him, mowgli threatened to put him on the donkey too, and the priest told messua's husband that mowgli had better be set to work as soon as possible; and the village head-man told mowgli that he would have to go out with the buffaloes next day, and herd them while they grazed.
no one was more pleased than mowgli; and that night, because he had been appointed a servant of the village, as it were, he went off to a circle that met every evening on a masonry platform under a great fig-tree.
it was the village club, and the head-man and the watchman and the barber, who knew all the gossip of the village, and old buldeo, the village hunter, who had a tower musket, met and smoked.
the monkeys sat and talked in the upper branches, and there was a hole under the platform where a cobra lived, and he had his little platter of milk every night because he was sacred; and the old men sat around the tree and talked, and pulled at the big huqas -lrb- the water-pipes -rrb- till far into the night.
they told wonderful tales of gods and men and ghosts; and buldeo told even more wonderful ones of the ways of beasts in the jungle, till the eyes of the children sitting outside the circle bulged out of their heads.
most of the tales were about animals, for the jungle was always at their door.
the deer and the wild pig grubbed up their crops, and now and again the tiger carried off a man at twilight, within sight of the village gates.
mowgli, who naturally knew something about what they were talking of, had to cover his face not to show that he was laughing, while buldeo, the tower musket across his knees, climbed on from one wonderful story to another, and mowgli's shoulders shook.
buldeo was explaining how the tiger that had carried away messua's son was a ghost-tiger, and his body was inhabited by the ghost of a wicked, old money-lender, who had died some years ago.
""and i know that this is true," he said, "because purun dass always limped from the blow that he got in a riot when his account books were burned, and the tiger that i speak of he limps, too, for the tracks of his pads are unequal."
""true, true, that must be the truth," said the gray-beards, nodding together.
""are all these tales such cobwebs and moon talk?"
said mowgli.
""that tiger limps because he was born lame, as everyone knows.
to talk of the soul of a money-lender in a beast that never had the courage of a jackal is child's talk."
buldeo was speechless with surprise for a moment, and the head-man stared.
""oho!
it is the jungle brat, is it?"
said buldeo.
""if thou art so wise, better bring his hide to khanhiwara, for the government has set a hundred rupees on his life.
better still, talk not when thy elders speak."
mowgli rose to go.
""all the evening i have lain here listening," he called back over his shoulder, "and, except once or twice, buldeo has not said one word of truth concerning the jungle, which is at his very doors.
how, then, shall i believe the tales of ghosts and gods and goblins which he says he has seen?"
""it is full time that boy went to herding," said the head-man, while buldeo puffed and snorted at mowgli's impertinence.
the custom of most indian villages is for a few boys to take the cattle and buffaloes out to graze in the early morning, and bring them back at night.
the very cattle that would trample a white man to death allow themselves to be banged and bullied and shouted at by children that hardly come up to their noses.
so long as the boys keep with the herds they are safe, for not even the tiger will charge a mob of cattle.
but if they straggle to pick flowers or hunt lizards, they are sometimes carried off.
mowgli went through the village street in the dawn, sitting on the back of rama, the great herd bull.
the slaty-blue buffaloes, with their long, backward-sweeping horns and savage eyes, rose out their byres, one by one, and followed him, and mowgli made it very clear to the children with him that he was the master.
he beat the buffaloes with a long, polished bamboo, and told kamya, one of the boys, to graze the cattle by themselves, while he went on with the buffaloes, and to be very careful not to stray away from the herd.
an indian grazing ground is all rocks and scrub and tussocks and little ravines, among which the herds scatter and disappear.
the buffaloes generally keep to the pools and muddy places, where they lie wallowing or basking in the warm mud for hours.
mowgli drove them on to the edge of the plain where the waingunga came out of the jungle; then he dropped from rama's neck, trotted off to a bamboo clump, and found gray brother.
""ah," said gray brother, "i have waited here very many days.
what is the meaning of this cattle-herding work?"
""it is an order," said mowgli.
""i am a village herd for a while.
what news of shere khan?"
""he has come back to this country, and has waited here a long time for thee.
now he has gone off again, for the game is scarce.
but he means to kill thee."
""very good," said mowgli.
""so long as he is away do thou or one of the four brothers sit on that rock, so that i can see thee as i come out of the village.
when he comes back wait for me in the ravine by the dhak tree in the center of the plain.
we need not walk into shere khan's mouth."
then mowgli picked out a shady place, and lay down and slept while the buffaloes grazed round him.
herding in india is one of the laziest things in the world.
the cattle move and crunch, and lie down, and move on again, and they do not even low.
they only grunt, and the buffaloes very seldom say anything, but get down into the muddy pools one after another, and work their way into the mud till only their noses and staring china-blue eyes show above the surface, and then they lie like logs.
the sun makes the rocks dance in the heat, and the herd children hear one kite -lrb- never any more -rrb- whistling almost out of sight overhead, and they know that if they died, or a cow died, that kite would sweep down, and the next kite miles away would see him drop and follow, and the next, and the next, and almost before they were dead there would be a score of hungry kites come out of nowhere.
then they sleep and wake and sleep again, and weave little baskets of dried grass and put grasshoppers in them; or catch two praying mantises and make them fight; or string a necklace of red and black jungle nuts; or watch a lizard basking on a rock, or a snake hunting a frog near the wallows.
then they sing long, long songs with odd native quavers at the end of them, and the day seems longer than most people's whole lives, and perhaps they make a mud castle with mud figures of men and horses and buffaloes, and put reeds into the men's hands, and pretend that they are kings and the figures are their armies, or that they are gods to be worshiped.
then evening comes and the children call, and the buffaloes lumber up out of the sticky mud with noises like gunshots going off one after the other, and they all string across the gray plain back to the twinkling village lights.
day after day mowgli would lead the buffaloes out to their wallows, and day after day he would see gray brother's back a mile and a half away across the plain -lrb- so he knew that shere khan had not come back -rrb-, and day after day he would lie on the grass listening to the noises round him, and dreaming of old days in the jungle.
if shere khan had made a false step with his lame paw up in the jungles by the waingunga, mowgli would have heard him in those long, still mornings.
at last a day came when he did not see gray brother at the signal place, and he laughed and headed the buffaloes for the ravine by the dhk tree, which was all covered with golden-red flowers.
there sat gray brother, every bristle on his back lifted.
""he has hidden for a month to throw thee off thy guard.
he crossed the ranges last night with tabaqui, hot-foot on thy trail," said the wolf, panting.
mowgli frowned.
""i am not afraid of shere khan, but tabaqui is very cunning."
""have no fear," said gray brother, licking his lips a little.
""i met tabaqui in the dawn.
now he is telling all his wisdom to the kites, but he told me everything before i broke his back.
shere khan's plan is to wait for thee at the village gate this evening -- for thee and for no one else.
he is lying up now, in the big dry ravine of the waingunga."
""has he eaten today, or does he hunt empty?"
said mowgli, for the answer meant life and death to him.
""he killed at dawn, -- a pig, -- and he has drunk too.
remember, shere khan could never fast, even for the sake of revenge."
""oh!
fool, fool!
what a cub's cub it is!
eaten and drunk too, and he thinks that i shall wait till he has slept!
now, where does he lie up?
if there were but ten of us we might pull him down as he lies.
these buffaloes will not charge unless they wind him, and i can not speak their language.
can we get behind his track so that they may smell it?"
""he swam far down the waingunga to cut that off," said gray brother.
""tabaqui told him that, i know.
he would never have thought of it alone."
mowgli stood with his finger in his mouth, thinking.
""the big ravine of the waingunga.
that opens out on the plain not half a mile from here.
i can take the herd round through the jungle to the head of the ravine and then sweep down -- but he would slink out at the foot.
we must block that end.
gray brother, canst thou cut the herd in two for me?"
""not i, perhaps -- but i have brought a wise helper."
gray brother trotted off and dropped into a hole.
then there lifted up a huge gray head that mowgli knew well, and the hot air was filled with the most desolate cry of all the jungle -- the hunting howl of a wolf at midday.
""akela!
akela!"
said mowgli, clapping his hands.
""i might have known that thou wouldst not forget me.
we have a big work in hand.
cut the herd in two, akela.
keep the cows and calves together, and the bulls and the plow buffaloes by themselves."
the two wolves ran, ladies" - chain fashion, in and out of the herd, which snorted and threw up its head, and separated into two clumps.
in one, the cow-buffaloes stood with their calves in the center, and glared and pawed, ready, if a wolf would only stay still, to charge down and trample the life out of him.
in the other, the bulls and the young bulls snorted and stamped, but though they looked more imposing they were much less dangerous, for they had no calves to protect.
no six men could have divided the herd so neatly.
""what orders!"
panted akela.
""they are trying to join again."
mowgli slipped on to rama's back.
""drive the bulls away to the left, akela.
gray brother, when we are gone, hold the cows together, and drive them into the foot of the ravine."
""how far?"
said gray brother, panting and snapping.
""till the sides are higher than shere khan can jump," shouted mowgli.
""keep them there till we come down."
the bulls swept off as akela bayed, and gray brother stopped in front of the cows.
they charged down on him, and he ran just before them to the foot of the ravine, as akela drove the bulls far to the left.
""well done!
another charge and they are fairly started.
careful, now -- careful, akela.
a snap too much and the bulls will charge.
hujah!
this is wilder work than driving black-buck.
didst thou think these creatures could move so swiftly?"
mowgli called.
""i have -- have hunted these too in my time," gasped akela in the dust.
""shall i turn them into the jungle?"
""ay!
turn.
swiftly turn them!
rama is mad with rage.
oh, if i could only tell him what i need of him to-day."
the bulls were turned, to the right this time, and crashed into the standing thicket.
the other herd children, watching with the cattle half a mile away, hurried to the village as fast as their legs could carry them, crying that the buffaloes had gone mad and run away.
but mowgli's plan was simple enough.
all he wanted to do was to make a big circle uphill and get at the head of the ravine, and then take the bulls down it and catch shere khan between the bulls and the cows; for he knew that after a meal and a full drink shere khan would not be in any condition to fight or to clamber up the sides of the ravine.
he was soothing the buffaloes now by voice, and akela had dropped far to the rear, only whimpering once or twice to hurry the rear-guard.
it was a long, long circle, for they did not wish to get too near the ravine and give shere khan warning.
at last mowgli rounded up the bewildered herd at the head of the ravine on a grassy patch that sloped steeply down to the ravine itself.
from that height you could see across the tops of the trees down to the plain below; but what mowgli looked at was the sides of the ravine, and he saw with a great deal of satisfaction that they ran nearly straight up and down, while the vines and creepers that hung over them would give no foothold to a tiger who wanted to get out.
""let them breathe, akela," he said, holding up his hand.
""they have not winded him yet.
let them breathe.
i must tell shere khan who comes.
we have him in the trap."
he put his hands to his mouth and shouted down the ravine -- it was almost like shouting down a tunnel -- and the echoes jumped from rock to rock.
after a long time there came back the drawling, sleepy snarl of a full-fed tiger just wakened.
""who calls?"
said shere khan, and a splendid peacock fluttered up out of the ravine screeching.
""i, mowgli.
cattle thief, it is time to come to the council rock!
down -- hurry them down, akela!
down, rama, down!"
the herd paused for an instant at the edge of the slope, but akela gave tongue in the full hunting-yell, and they pitched over one after the other, just as steamers shoot rapids, the sand and stones spurting up round them.
once started, there was no chance of stopping, and before they were fairly in the bed of the ravine rama winded shere khan and bellowed.
""ha!
ha!"
said mowgli, on his back.
""now thou knowest!"
and the torrent of black horns, foaming muzzles, and staring eyes whirled down the ravine just as boulders go down in floodtime; the weaker buffaloes being shouldered out to the sides of the ravine where they tore through the creepers.
they knew what the business was before them -- the terrible charge of the buffalo herd against which no tiger can hope to stand.
shere khan heard the thunder of their hoofs, picked himself up, and lumbered down the ravine, looking from side to side for some way of escape, but the walls of the ravine were straight and he had to hold on, heavy with his dinner and his drink, willing to do anything rather than fight.
the herd splashed through the pool he had just left, bellowing till the narrow cut rang.
mowgli heard an answering bellow from the foot of the ravine, saw shere khan turn -lrb- the tiger knew if the worst came to the worst it was better to meet the bulls than the cows with their calves -rrb-, and then rama tripped, stumbled, and went on again over something soft, and, with the bulls at his heels, crashed full into the other herd, while the weaker buffaloes were lifted clean off their feet by the shock of the meeting.
that charge carried both herds out into the plain, goring and stamping and snorting.
mowgli watched his time, and slipped off rama's neck, laying about him right and left with his stick.
""quick, akela!
break them up.
scatter them, or they will be fighting one another.
drive them away, akela.
hai, rama!
hai, hai, hai!
my children.
softly now, softly!
it is all over."
akela and gray brother ran to and fro nipping the buffaloes" legs, and though the herd wheeled once to charge up the ravine again, mowgli managed to turn rama, and the others followed him to the wallows.
shere khan needed no more trampling.
he was dead, and the kites were coming for him already.
""brothers, that was a dog's death," said mowgli, feeling for the knife he always carried in a sheath round his neck now that he lived with men.
""but he would never have shown fight.
his hide will look well on the council rock.
we must get to work swiftly."
a boy trained among men would never have dreamed of skinning a ten-foot tiger alone, but mowgli knew better than anyone else how an animal's skin is fitted on, and how it can be taken off.
but it was hard work, and mowgli slashed and tore and grunted for an hour, while the wolves lolled out their tongues, or came forward and tugged as he ordered them.
presently a hand fell on his shoulder, and looking up he saw buldeo with the tower musket.
the children had told the village about the buffalo stampede, and buldeo went out angrily, only too anxious to correct mowgli for not taking better care of the herd.
the wolves dropped out of sight as soon as they saw the man coming.
""what is this folly?"
said buldeo angrily.
""to think that thou canst skin a tiger!
where did the buffaloes kill him?
it is the lame tiger too, and there is a hundred rupees on his head.
well, well, we will overlook thy letting the herd run off, and perhaps i will give thee one of the rupees of the reward when i have taken the skin to khanhiwara."
he fumbled in his waist cloth for flint and steel, and stooped down to singe shere khan's whiskers.
most native hunters always singe a tiger's whiskers to prevent his ghost from haunting them.
""hum!"
said mowgli, half to himself as he ripped back the skin of a forepaw.
""so thou wilt take the hide to khanhiwara for the reward, and perhaps give me one rupee?
now it is in my mind that i need the skin for my own use.
heh!
old man, take away that fire!"
""what talk is this to the chief hunter of the village?
thy luck and the stupidity of thy buffaloes have helped thee to this kill.
the tiger has just fed, or he would have gone twenty miles by this time.
thou canst not even skin him properly, little beggar brat, and forsooth i, buldeo, must be told not to singe his whiskers.
mowgli, i will not give thee one anna of the reward, but only a very big beating.
leave the carcass!"
""by the bull that bought me," said mowgli, who was trying to get at the shoulder, "must i stay babbling to an old ape all noon?
here, akela, this man plagues me."
buldeo, who was still stooping over shere khan's head, found himself sprawling on the grass, with a gray wolf standing over him, while mowgli went on skinning as though he were alone in all india.
""ye-es," he said, between his teeth.
""thou art altogether right, buldeo.
thou wilt never give me one anna of the reward.
there is an old war between this lame tiger and myself -- a very old war, and -- i have won."
to do buldeo justice, if he had been ten years younger he would have taken his chance with akela had he met the wolf in the woods, but a wolf who obeyed the orders of this boy who had private wars with man-eating tigers was not a common animal.
it was sorcery, magic of the worst kind, thought buldeo, and he wondered whether the amulet round his neck would protect him.
he lay as still as still, expecting every minute to see mowgli turn into a tiger too.
""maharaj!
great king," he said at last in a husky whisper.
""yes," said mowgli, without turning his head, chuckling a little.
""i am an old man.
i did not know that thou wast anything more than a herdsboy.
may i rise up and go away, or will thy servant tear me to pieces?"
""go, and peace go with thee.
only, another time do not meddle with my game.
let him go, akela."
buldeo hobbled away to the village as fast as he could, looking back over his shoulder in case mowgli should change into something terrible.
when he got to the village he told a tale of magic and enchantment and sorcery that made the priest look very grave.
mowgli went on with his work, but it was nearly twilight before he and the wolves had drawn the great gay skin clear of the body.
""now we must hide this and take the buffaloes home!
help me to herd them, akela."
the herd rounded up in the misty twilight, and when they got near the village mowgli saw lights, and heard the conches and bells in the temple blowing and banging.
half the village seemed to be waiting for him by the gate.
""that is because i have killed shere khan," he said to himself.
but a shower of stones whistled about his ears, and the villagers shouted: "sorcerer!
wolf's brat!
jungle demon!
go away!
get hence quickly or the priest will turn thee into a wolf again.
shoot, buldeo, shoot!"
the old tower musket went off with a bang, and a young buffalo bellowed in pain.
""more sorcery!"
shouted the villagers.
""he can turn bullets.
buldeo, that was thy buffalo."
""now what is this?"
said mowgli, bewildered, as the stones flew thicker.
""they are not unlike the pack, these brothers of thine," said akela, sitting down composedly.
""it is in my head that, if bullets mean anything, they would cast thee out."
""wolf!
wolf's cub!
go away!"
shouted the priest, waving a sprig of the sacred tulsi plant.
""again?
last time it was because i was a man.
this time it is because i am a wolf.
let us go, akela."
a woman -- it was messua -- ran across to the herd, and cried: "oh, my son, my son!
they say thou art a sorcerer who can turn himself into a beast at will.
i do not believe, but go away or they will kill thee.
buldeo says thou art a wizard, but i know thou hast avenged nathoo's death."
""come back, messua!"
shouted the crowd.
""come back, or we will stone thee."
mowgli laughed a little short ugly laugh, for a stone had hit him in the mouth.
""run back, messua.
this is one of the foolish tales they tell under the big tree at dusk.
i have at least paid for thy son's life.
farewell; and run quickly, for i shall send the herd in more swiftly than their brickbats.
i am no wizard, messua.
farewell!"
""now, once more, akela," he cried.
""bring the herd in."
the buffaloes were anxious enough to get to the village.
they hardly needed akela's yell, but charged through the gate like a whirlwind, scattering the crowd right and left.
""keep count!"
shouted mowgli scornfully.
""it may be that i have stolen one of them.
keep count, for i will do your herding no more.
fare you well, children of men, and thank messua that i do not come in with my wolves and hunt you up and down your street."
he turned on his heel and walked away with the lone wolf, and as he looked up at the stars he felt happy.
""no more sleeping in traps for me, akela.
let us get shere khan's skin and go away.
no, we will not hurt the village, for messua was kind to me."
when the moon rose over the plain, making it look all milky, the horrified villagers saw mowgli, with two wolves at his heels and a bundle on his head, trotting across at the steady wolf's trot that eats up the long miles like fire.
then they banged the temple bells and blew the conches louder than ever.
and messua cried, and buldeo embroidered the story of his adventures in the jungle, till he ended by saying that akela stood up on his hind legs and talked like a man.
the moon was just going down when mowgli and the two wolves came to the hill of the council rock, and they stopped at mother wolf's cave.
""they have cast me out from the man-pack, mother," shouted mowgli, "but i come with the hide of shere khan to keep my word."
mother wolf walked stiffly from the cave with the cubs behind her, and her eyes glowed as she saw the skin.
""i told him on that day, when he crammed his head and shoulders into this cave, hunting for thy life, little frog -- i told him that the hunter would be the hunted.
it is well done."
""little brother, it is well done," said a deep voice in the thicket.
""we were lonely in the jungle without thee," and bagheera came running to mowgli's bare feet.
they clambered up the council rock together, and mowgli spread the skin out on the flat stone where akela used to sit, and pegged it down with four slivers of bamboo, and akela lay down upon it, and called the old call to the council, "look -- look well, o wolves," exactly as he had called when mowgli was first brought there.
ever since akela had been deposed, the pack had been without a leader, hunting and fighting at their own pleasure.
but they answered the call from habit; and some of them were lame from the traps they had fallen into, and some limped from shot wounds, and some were mangy from eating bad food, and many were missing.
but they came to the council rock, all that were left of them, and saw shere khan's striped hide on the rock, and the huge claws dangling at the end of the empty dangling feet.
it was then that mowgli made up a song that came up into his throat all by itself, and he shouted it aloud, leaping up and down on the rattling skin, and beating time with his heels till he had no more breath left, while gray brother and akela howled between the verses.
""look well, o wolves.
have i kept my word?"
said mowgli.
and the wolves bayed "yes," and one tattered wolf howled: "lead us again, o akela.
lead us again, o man-cub, for we be sick of this lawlessness, and we would be the free people once more."
""nay," purred bagheera, "that may not be.
when ye are full-fed, the madness may come upon you again.
not for nothing are ye called the free people.
ye fought for freedom, and it is yours.
eat it, o wolves."
""man-pack and wolf-pack have cast me out," said mowgli.
""now i will hunt alone in the jungle."
""and we will hunt with thee," said the four cubs.
so mowgli went away and hunted with the four cubs in the jungle from that day on.
but he was not always alone, because, years afterward, he became a man and married.
but that is a story for grown-ups.
mowgli's song that he sang at the council rock when he danced on shere khan's hide the song of mowgli -- i, mowgli, am singing.
let the jungle listen to the things i have done.
shere khan said he would kill -- would kill!
at the gates in the twilight he would kill mowgli, the frog!
he ate and he drank.
drink deep, shere khan, for when wilt thou drink again?
sleep and dream of the kill.
i am alone on the grazing-grounds.
gray brother, come to me!
come to me, lone wolf, for there is big game afoot!
bring up the great bull buffaloes, the blue-skinned herd bulls with the angry eyes.
drive them to and fro as i order.
sleepest thou still, shere khan?
wake, oh, wake!
here come i, and the bulls are behind.
rama, the king of the buffaloes, stamped with his foot.
waters of the waingunga, whither went shere khan?
he is not ikki to dig holes, nor mao, the peacock, that he should fly.
he is not mang the bat, to hang in the branches.
little bamboos that creak together, tell me where he ran?
ow!
he is there.
ahoo!
he is there.
under the feet of rama lies the lame one!
up, shere khan!
up and kill!
here is meat; break the necks of the bulls!
hsh!
he is asleep.
we will not wake him, for his strength is very great.
the kites have come down to see it.
the black ants have come up to know it.
there is a great assembly in his honor.
alala!
i have no cloth to wrap me.
the kites will see that i am naked.
i am ashamed to meet all these people.
lend me thy coat, shere khan.
lend me thy gay striped coat that i may go to the council rock.
by the bull that bought me i made a promise -- a little promise.
only thy coat is lacking before i keep my word.
with the knife, with the knife that men use, with the knife of the hunter, i will stoop down for my gift.
waters of the waingunga, shere khan gives me his coat for the love that he bears me.
pull, gray brother!
pull, akela!
heavy is the hide of shere khan.
the man pack are angry.
they throw stones and talk child's talk.
my mouth is bleeding.
let me run away.
through the night, through the hot night, run swiftly with me, my brothers.
we will leave the lights of the village and go to the low moon.
waters of the waingunga, the man-pack have cast me out.
i did them no harm, but they were afraid of me.
why?
wolf pack, ye have cast me out too.
the jungle is shut to me and the village gates are shut.
why?
as mang flies between the beasts and birds, so fly i between the village and the jungle.
why?
i dance on the hide of shere khan, but my heart is very heavy.
my mouth is cut and wounded with the stones from the village, but my heart is very light, because i have come back to the jungle.
why?
these two things fight together in me as the snakes fight in the spring.
the water comes out of my eyes; yet i laugh while it falls.
why?
i am two mowglis, but the hide of shere khan is under my feet.
all the jungle knows that i have killed shere khan.
look -- look well, o wolves!
ahae!
my heart is heavy with the things that i do not understand.
the white seal oh!
hush thee, my baby, the night is behind us, and black are the waters that sparkled so green.
the moon, o'er the combers, looks downward to find us at rest in the hollows that rustle between.
where billow meets billow, then soft be thy pillow, ah, weary wee flipperling, curl at thy ease!
the storm shall not wake thee, nor shark overtake thee, asleep in the arms of the slow-swinging seas!
seal lullaby all these things happened several years ago at a place called novastoshnah, or north east point, on the island of st. paul, away and away in the bering sea.
limmershin, the winter wren, told me the tale when he was blown on to the rigging of a steamer going to japan, and i took him down into my cabin and warmed and fed him for a couple of days till he was fit to fly back to st. paul's again.
limmershin is a very quaint little bird, but he knows how to tell the truth.
nobody comes to novastoshnah except on business, and the only people who have regular business there are the seals.
they come in the summer months by hundreds and hundreds of thousands out of the cold gray sea.
for novastoshnah beach has the finest accommodation for seals of any place in all the world.
sea catch knew that, and every spring would swim from whatever place he happened to be in -- would swim like a torpedo-boat straight for novastoshnah and spend a month fighting with his companions for a good place on the rocks, as close to the sea as possible.
sea catch was fifteen years old, a huge gray fur seal with almost a mane on his shoulders, and long, wicked dog teeth.
when he heaved himself up on his front flippers he stood more than four feet clear of the ground, and his weight, if anyone had been bold enough to weigh him, was nearly seven hundred pounds.
he was scarred all over with the marks of savage fights, but he was always ready for just one fight more.
he would put his head on one side, as though he were afraid to look his enemy in the face; then he would shoot it out like lightning, and when the big teeth were firmly fixed on the other seal's neck, the other seal might get away if he could, but sea catch would not help him.
yet sea catch never chased a beaten seal, for that was against the rules of the beach.
he only wanted room by the sea for his nursery.
but as there were forty or fifty thousand other seals hunting for the same thing each spring, the whistling, bellowing, roaring, and blowing on the beach was something frightful.
from a little hill called hutchinson's hill, you could look over three and a half miles of ground covered with fighting seals; and the surf was dotted all over with the heads of seals hurrying to land and begin their share of the fighting.
they fought in the breakers, they fought in the sand, and they fought on the smooth-worn basalt rocks of the nurseries, for they were just as stupid and unaccommodating as men.
their wives never came to the island until late in may or early in june, for they did not care to be torn to pieces; and the young two -, three -, and four-year-old seals who had not begun housekeeping went inland about half a mile through the ranks of the fighters and played about on the sand dunes in droves and legions, and rubbed off every single green thing that grew.
they were called the holluschickie -- the bachelors -- and there were perhaps two or three hundred thousand of them at novastoshnah alone.
sea catch had just finished his forty-fifth fight one spring when matkah, his soft, sleek, gentle-eyed wife, came up out of the sea, and he caught her by the scruff of the neck and dumped her down on his reservation, saying gruffly: "late as usual.
where have you been?"
it was not the fashion for sea catch to eat anything during the four months he stayed on the beaches, and so his temper was generally bad.
matkah knew better than to answer back.
she looked round and cooed: "how thoughtful of you.
you've taken the old place again."
""i should think i had," said sea catch.
""look at me!"
he was scratched and bleeding in twenty places; one eye was almost out, and his sides were torn to ribbons.
""oh, you men, you men!"
matkah said, fanning herself with her hind flipper.
""why ca n't you be sensible and settle your places quietly?
you look as though you had been fighting with the killer whale."
""i have n't been doing anything but fight since the middle of may.
the beach is disgracefully crowded this season.
i've met at least a hundred seals from lukannon beach, house hunting.
why ca n't people stay where they belong?"
""i've often thought we should be much happier if we hauled out at otter island instead of this crowded place," said matkah.
""bah!
only the holluschickie go to otter island.
if we went there they would say we were afraid.
we must preserve appearances, my dear."
sea catch sunk his head proudly between his fat shoulders and pretended to go to sleep for a few minutes, but all the time he was keeping a sharp lookout for a fight.
now that all the seals and their wives were on the land, you could hear their clamor miles out to sea above the loudest gales.
at the lowest counting there were over a million seals on the beach -- old seals, mother seals, tiny babies, and holluschickie, fighting, scuffling, bleating, crawling, and playing together -- going down to the sea and coming up from it in gangs and regiments, lying over every foot of ground as far as the eye could reach, and skirmishing about in brigades through the fog.
it is nearly always foggy at novastoshnah, except when the sun comes out and makes everything look all pearly and rainbow-colored for a little while.
kotick, matkah's baby, was born in the middle of that confusion, and he was all head and shoulders, with pale, watery blue eyes, as tiny seals must be, but there was something about his coat that made his mother look at him very closely.
""sea catch," she said, at last, "our baby's going to be white!"
""empty clam-shells and dry seaweed!"
snorted sea catch.
""there never has been such a thing in the world as a white seal."
""i ca n't help that," said matkah; "there's going to be now."
and she sang the low, crooning seal song that all the mother seals sing to their babies: you must n't swim till you're six weeks old, or your head will be sunk by your heels; and summer gales and killer whales are bad for baby seals.
are bad for baby seals, dear rat, as bad as bad can be; but splash and grow strong, and you ca n't be wrong.
child of the open sea!
of course the little fellow did not understand the words at first.
he paddled and scrambled about by his mother's side, and learned to scuffle out of the way when his father was fighting with another seal, and the two rolled and roared up and down the slippery rocks.
matkah used to go to sea to get things to eat, and the baby was fed only once in two days, but then he ate all he could and throve upon it.
the first thing he did was to crawl inland, and there he met tens of thousands of babies of his own age, and they played together like puppies, went to sleep on the clean sand, and played again.
the old people in the nurseries took no notice of them, and the holluschickie kept to their own grounds, and the babies had a beautiful playtime.
when matkah came back from her deep-sea fishing she would go straight to their playground and call as a sheep calls for a lamb, and wait until she heard kotick bleat.
then she would take the straightest of straight lines in his direction, striking out with her fore flippers and knocking the youngsters head over heels right and left.
there were always a few hundred mothers hunting for their children through the playgrounds, and the babies were kept lively.
but, as matkah told kotick, "so long as you do n't lie in muddy water and get mange, or rub the hard sand into a cut or scratch, and so long as you never go swimming when there is a heavy sea, nothing will hurt you here."
little seals can no more swim than little children, but they are unhappy till they learn.
the first time that kotick went down to the sea a wave carried him out beyond his depth, and his big head sank and his little hind flippers flew up exactly as his mother had told him in the song, and if the next wave had not thrown him back again he would have drowned.
after that, he learned to lie in a beach pool and let the wash of the waves just cover him and lift him up while he paddled, but he always kept his eye open for big waves that might hurt.
he was two weeks learning to use his flippers; and all that while he floundered in and out of the water, and coughed and grunted and crawled up the beach and took catnaps on the sand, and went back again, until at last he found that he truly belonged to the water.
then you can imagine the times that he had with his companions, ducking under the rollers; or coming in on top of a comber and landing with a swash and a splutter as the big wave went whirling far up the beach; or standing up on his tail and scratching his head as the old people did; or playing "i'm the king of the castle" on slippery, weedy rocks that just stuck out of the wash.
now and then he would see a thin fin, like a big shark's fin, drifting along close to shore, and he knew that that was the killer whale, the grampus, who eats young seals when he can get them; and kotick would head for the beach like an arrow, and the fin would jig off slowly, as if it were looking for nothing at all.
late in october the seals began to leave st. paul's for the deep sea, by families and tribes, and there was no more fighting over the nurseries, and the holluschickie played anywhere they liked.
""next year," said matkah to kotick, "you will be a holluschickie; but this year you must learn how to catch fish."
they set out together across the pacific, and matkah showed kotick how to sleep on his back with his flippers tucked down by his side and his little nose just out of the water.
no cradle is so comfortable as the long, rocking swell of the pacific.
when kotick felt his skin tingle all over, matkah told him he was learning the "feel of the water," and that tingly, prickly feelings meant bad weather coming, and he must swim hard and get away.
""in a little time," she said, "you'll know where to swim to, but just now we'll follow sea pig, the porpoise, for he is very wise."
a school of porpoises were ducking and tearing through the water, and little kotick followed them as fast as he could.
""how do you know where to go to?"
he panted.
the leader of the school rolled his white eye and ducked under.
""my tail tingles, youngster," he said.
""that means there's a gale behind me.
come along!
when you're south of the sticky water -lsb- he meant the equator -rsb- and your tail tingles, that means there's a gale in front of you and you must head north.
come along!
the water feels bad here."
this was one of very many things that kotick learned, and he was always learning.
matkah taught him to follow the cod and the halibut along the under-sea banks and wrench the rockling out of his hole among the weeds; how to skirt the wrecks lying a hundred fathoms below water and dart like a rifle bullet in at one porthole and out at another as the fishes ran; how to dance on the top of the waves when the lightning was racing all over the sky, and wave his flipper politely to the stumpy-tailed albatross and the man-of-war hawk as they went down the wind; how to jump three or four feet clear of the water like a dolphin, flippers close to the side and tail curved; to leave the flying fish alone because they are all bony; to take the shoulder-piece out of a cod at full speed ten fathoms deep, and never to stop and look at a boat or a ship, but particularly a row-boat.
at the end of six months what kotick did not know about deep-sea fishing was not worth the knowing.
and all that time he never set flipper on dry ground.
one day, however, as he was lying half asleep in the warm water somewhere off the island of juan fernandez, he felt faint and lazy all over, just as human people do when the spring is in their legs, and he remembered the good firm beaches of novastoshnah seven thousand miles away, the games his companions played, the smell of the seaweed, the seal roar, and the fighting.
that very minute he turned north, swimming steadily, and as he went on he met scores of his mates, all bound for the same place, and they said: "greeting, kotick!
this year we are all holluschickie, and we can dance the fire-dance in the breakers off lukannon and play on the new grass.
but where did you get that coat?"
kotick's fur was almost pure white now, and though he felt very proud of it, he only said, "swim quickly!
my bones are aching for the land."
and so they all came to the beaches where they had been born, and heard the old seals, their fathers, fighting in the rolling mist.
that night kotick danced the fire-dance with the yearling seals.
the sea is full of fire on summer nights all the way down from novastoshnah to lukannon, and each seal leaves a wake like burning oil behind him and a flaming flash when he jumps, and the waves break in great phosphorescent streaks and swirls.
then they went inland to the holluschickie grounds and rolled up and down in the new wild wheat and told stories of what they had done while they had been at sea.
they talked about the pacific as boys would talk about a wood that they had been nutting in, and if anyone had understood them he could have gone away and made such a chart of that ocean as never was.
the three - and four-year-old holluschickie romped down from hutchinson's hill crying: "out of the way, youngsters!
the sea is deep and you do n't know all that's in it yet.
wait till you've rounded the horn.
hi, you yearling, where did you get that white coat?"
""i did n't get it," said kotick.
""it grew."
and just as he was going to roll the speaker over, a couple of black-haired men with flat red faces came from behind a sand dune, and kotick, who had never seen a man before, coughed and lowered his head.
the holluschickie just bundled off a few yards and sat staring stupidly.
the men were no less than kerick booterin, the chief of the seal-hunters on the island, and patalamon, his son.
they came from the little village not half a mile from the sea nurseries, and they were deciding what seals they would drive up to the killing pens -- for the seals were driven just like sheep -- to be turned into seal-skin jackets later on.
""ho!"
said patalamon.
""look!
there's a white seal!"
kerick booterin turned nearly white under his oil and smoke, for he was an aleut, and aleuts are not clean people.
then he began to mutter a prayer.
""do n't touch him, patalamon.
there has never been a white seal since -- since i was born.
perhaps it is old zaharrof's ghost.
he was lost last year in the big gale."
""i'm not going near him," said patalamon.
""he's unlucky.
do you really think he is old zaharrof come back?
i owe him for some gulls" eggs."
""do n't look at him," said kerick.
""head off that drove of four-year-olds.
the men ought to skin two hundred to-day, but it's the beginning of the season and they are new to the work.
a hundred will do.
quick!"
patalamon rattled a pair of seal's shoulder bones in front of a herd of holluschickie and they stopped dead, puffing and blowing.
then he stepped near and the seals began to move, and kerick headed them inland, and they never tried to get back to their companions.
hundreds and hundreds of thousands of seals watched them being driven, but they went on playing just the same.
kotick was the only one who asked questions, and none of his companions could tell him anything, except that the men always drove seals in that way for six weeks or two months of every year.
""i am going to follow," he said, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head as he shuffled along in the wake of the herd.
""the white seal is coming after us," cried patalamon.
""that's the first time a seal has ever come to the killing-grounds alone."
""hsh!
do n't look behind you," said kerick.
""it is zaharrof's ghost!
i must speak to the priest about this."
the distance to the killing-grounds was only half a mile, but it took an hour to cover, because if the seals went too fast kerick knew that they would get heated and then their fur would come off in patches when they were skinned.
so they went on very slowly, past sea lion's neck, past webster house, till they came to the salt house just beyond the sight of the seals on the beach.
kotick followed, panting and wondering.
he thought that he was at the world's end, but the roar of the seal nurseries behind him sounded as loud as the roar of a train in a tunnel.
then kerick sat down on the moss and pulled out a heavy pewter watch and let the drove cool off for thirty minutes, and kotick could hear the fog-dew dripping off the brim of his cap.
then ten or twelve men, each with an iron-bound club three or four feet long, came up, and kerick pointed out one or two of the drove that were bitten by their companions or too hot, and the men kicked those aside with their heavy boots made of the skin of a walrus's throat, and then kerick said, "let go!"
and then the men clubbed the seals on the head as fast as they could.
ten minutes later little kotick did not recognize his friends any more, for their skins were ripped off from the nose to the hind flippers, whipped off and thrown down on the ground in a pile.
that was enough for kotick.
he turned and galloped -lrb- a seal can gallop very swiftly for a short time -rrb- back to the sea; his little new mustache bristling with horror.
at sea lion's neck, where the great sea lions sit on the edge of the surf, he flung himself flipper-overhead into the cool water and rocked there, gasping miserably.
""what's here?"
said a sea lion gruffly, for as a rule the sea lions keep themselves to themselves.
""scoochnie!
ochen scoochnie!"
-lrb- "i'm lonesome, very lonesome!" -rrb-
said kotick.
""they're killing all the holluschickie on all the beaches!"
the sea lion turned his head inshore.
""nonsense!"
he said.
""your friends are making as much noise as ever.
you must have seen old kerick polishing off a drove.
he's done that for thirty years."
""it's horrible," said kotick, backing water as a wave went over him, and steadying himself with a screw stroke of his flippers that brought him all standing within three inches of a jagged edge of rock.
""well done for a yearling!"
said the sea lion, who could appreciate good swimming.
""i suppose it is rather awful from your way of looking at it, but if you seals will come here year after year, of course the men get to know of it, and unless you can find an island where no men ever come you will always be driven."
""is n't there any such island?"
began kotick.
""i've followed the poltoos -lsb- the halibut -rsb- for twenty years, and i ca n't say i've found it yet.
but look here -- you seem to have a fondness for talking to your betters -- suppose you go to walrus islet and talk to sea vitch.
he may know something.
do n't flounce off like that.
it's a six-mile swim, and if i were you i should haul out and take a nap first, little one."
kotick thought that that was good advice, so he swam round to his own beach, hauled out, and slept for half an hour, twitching all over, as seals will.
then he headed straight for walrus islet, a little low sheet of rocky island almost due northeast from novastoshnah, all ledges and rock and gulls" nests, where the walrus herded by themselves.
he landed close to old sea vitch -- the big, ugly, bloated, pimpled, fat-necked, long-tusked walrus of the north pacific, who has no manners except when he is asleep -- as he was then, with his hind flippers half in and half out of the surf.
""wake up!"
barked kotick, for the gulls were making a great noise.
""hah!
ho!
hmph!
what's that?"
said sea vitch, and he struck the next walrus a blow with his tusks and waked him up, and the next struck the next, and so on till they were all awake and staring in every direction but the right one.
""hi!
it's me," said kotick, bobbing in the surf and looking like a little white slug.
""well!
may i be -- skinned!"
said sea vitch, and they all looked at kotick as you can fancy a club full of drowsy old gentlemen would look at a little boy.
kotick did not care to hear any more about skinning just then; he had seen enough of it.
so he called out: "is n't there any place for seals to go where men do n't ever come?"
""go and find out," said sea vitch, shutting his eyes.
""run away.
we're busy here."
kotick made his dolphin-jump in the air and shouted as loud as he could: "clam-eater!
clam-eater!"
he knew that sea vitch never caught a fish in his life but always rooted for clams and seaweed; though he pretended to be a very terrible person.
naturally the chickies and the gooverooskies and the epatkas -- the burgomaster gulls and the kittiwakes and the puffins, who are always looking for a chance to be rude, took up the cry, and -- so limmershin told me -- for nearly five minutes you could not have heard a gun fired on walrus islet.
all the population was yelling and screaming "clam-eater!
stareek -lsb- old man -rsb-!"
while sea vitch rolled from side to side grunting and coughing.
""now will you tell?"
said kotick, all out of breath.
""go and ask sea cow," said sea vitch.
""if he is living still, he'll be able to tell you."
""how shall i know sea cow when i meet him?"
said kotick, sheering off.
""he's the only thing in the sea uglier than sea vitch," screamed a burgomaster gull, wheeling under sea vitch's nose.
""uglier, and with worse manners!
stareek!"
kotick swam back to novastoshnah, leaving the gulls to scream.
there he found that no one sympathized with him in his little attempt to discover a quiet place for the seals.
they told him that men had always driven the holluschickie -- it was part of the day's work -- and that if he did not like to see ugly things he should not have gone to the killing grounds.
but none of the other seals had seen the killing, and that made the difference between him and his friends.
besides, kotick was a white seal.
""what you must do," said old sea catch, after he had heard his son's adventures, "is to grow up and be a big seal like your father, and have a nursery on the beach, and then they will leave you alone.
in another five years you ought to be able to fight for yourself."
even gentle matkah, his mother, said: "you will never be able to stop the killing.
go and play in the sea, kotick."
and kotick went off and danced the fire-dance with a very heavy little heart.
that autumn he left the beach as soon as he could, and set off alone because of a notion in his bullet-head.
he was going to find sea cow, if there was such a person in the sea, and he was going to find a quiet island with good firm beaches for seals to live on, where men could not get at them.
so he explored and explored by himself from the north to the south pacific, swimming as much as three hundred miles in a day and a night.
he met with more adventures than can be told, and narrowly escaped being caught by the basking shark, and the spotted shark, and the hammerhead, and he met all the untrustworthy ruffians that loaf up and down the seas, and the heavy polite fish, and the scarlet spotted scallops that are moored in one place for hundreds of years, and grow very proud of it; but he never met sea cow, and he never found an island that he could fancy.
if the beach was good and hard, with a slope behind it for seals to play on, there was always the smoke of a whaler on the horizon, boiling down blubber, and kotick knew what that meant.
or else he could see that seals had once visited the island and been killed off, and kotick knew that where men had come once they would come again.
he picked up with an old stumpy-tailed albatross, who told him that kerguelen island was the very place for peace and quiet, and when kotick went down there he was all but smashed to pieces against some wicked black cliffs in a heavy sleet-storm with lightning and thunder.
yet as he pulled out against the gale he could see that even there had once been a seal nursery.
and it was so in all the other islands that he visited.
limmershin gave a long list of them, for he said that kotick spent five seasons exploring, with a four months" rest each year at novastoshnah, when the holluschickie used to make fun of him and his imaginary islands.
he went to the gallapagos, a horrid dry place on the equator, where he was nearly baked to death; he went to the georgia islands, the orkneys, emerald island, little nightingale island, gough's island, bouvet's island, the crossets, and even to a little speck of an island south of the cape of good hope.
but everywhere the people of the sea told him the same things.
seals had come to those islands once upon a time, but men had killed them all off.
even when he swam thousands of miles out of the pacific and got to a place called cape corrientes -lrb- that was when he was coming back from gough's island -rrb-, he found a few hundred mangy seals on a rock and they told him that men came there too.
that nearly broke his heart, and he headed round the horn back to his own beaches; and on his way north he hauled out on an island full of green trees, where he found an old, old seal who was dying, and kotick caught fish for him and told him all his sorrows.
""now," said kotick, "i am going back to novastoshnah, and if i am driven to the killing-pens with the holluschickie i shall not care."
the old seal said, "try once more.
i am the last of the lost rookery of masafuera, and in the days when men killed us by the hundred thousand there was a story on the beaches that some day a white seal would come out of the north and lead the seal people to a quiet place.
i am old, and i shall never live to see that day, but others will.
try once more."
and kotick curled up his mustache -lrb- it was a beauty -rrb- and said, "i am the only white seal that has ever been born on the beaches, and i am the only seal, black or white, who ever thought of looking for new islands."
this cheered him immensely; and when he came back to novastoshnah that summer, matkah, his mother, begged him to marry and settle down, for he was no longer a holluschick but a full-grown sea-catch, with a curly white mane on his shoulders, as heavy, as big, and as fierce as his father.
""give me another season," he said.
""remember, mother, it is always the seventh wave that goes farthest up the beach."
curiously enough, there was another seal who thought that she would put off marrying till the next year, and kotick danced the fire-dance with her all down lukannon beach the night before he set off on his last exploration.
this time he went westward, because he had fallen on the trail of a great shoal of halibut, and he needed at least one hundred pounds of fish a day to keep him in good condition.
he chased them till he was tired, and then he curled himself up and went to sleep on the hollows of the ground swell that sets in to copper island.
he knew the coast perfectly well, so about midnight, when he felt himself gently bumped on a weed-bed, he said, "hm, tide's running strong tonight," and turning over under water opened his eyes slowly and stretched.
then he jumped like a cat, for he saw huge things nosing about in the shoal water and browsing on the heavy fringes of the weeds.
""by the great combers of magellan!"
he said, beneath his mustache.
""who in the deep sea are these people?"
they were like no walrus, sea lion, seal, bear, whale, shark, fish, squid, or scallop that kotick had ever seen before.
they were between twenty and thirty feet long, and they had no hind flippers, but a shovel-like tail that looked as if it had been whittled out of wet leather.
their heads were the most foolish-looking things you ever saw, and they balanced on the ends of their tails in deep water when they were n't grazing, bowing solemnly to each other and waving their front flippers as a fat man waves his arm.
""ahem!"
said kotick.
""good sport, gentlemen?"
the big things answered by bowing and waving their flippers like the frog footman.
when they began feeding again kotick saw that their upper lip was split into two pieces that they could twitch apart about a foot and bring together again with a whole bushel of seaweed between the splits.
they tucked the stuff into their mouths and chumped solemnly.
""messy style of feeding, that," said kotick.
they bowed again, and kotick began to lose his temper.
""very good," he said.
""if you do happen to have an extra joint in your front flipper you need n't show off so.
i see you bow gracefully, but i should like to know your names."
the split lips moved and twitched; and the glassy green eyes stared, but they did not speak.
""well!"
said kotick.
""you're the only people i've ever met uglier than sea vitch -- and with worse manners."
then he remembered in a flash what the burgomaster gull had screamed to him when he was a little yearling at walrus islet, and he tumbled backward in the water, for he knew that he had found sea cow at last.
the sea cows went on schlooping and grazing and chumping in the weed, and kotick asked them questions in every language that he had picked up in his travels; and the sea people talk nearly as many languages as human beings.
but the sea cows did not answer because sea cow can not talk.
he has only six bones in his neck where he ought to have seven, and they say under the sea that that prevents him from speaking even to his companions.
but, as you know, he has an extra joint in his foreflipper, and by waving it up and down and about he makes what answers to a sort of clumsy telegraphic code.
by daylight kotick's mane was standing on end and his temper was gone where the dead crabs go.
then the sea cow began to travel northward very slowly, stopping to hold absurd bowing councils from time to time, and kotick followed them, saying to himself, "people who are such idiots as these are would have been killed long ago if they had n't found out some safe island.
and what is good enough for the sea cow is good enough for the sea catch.
all the same, i wish they'd hurry."
it was weary work for kotick.
the herd never went more than forty or fifty miles a day, and stopped to feed at night, and kept close to the shore all the time; while kotick swam round them, and over them, and under them, but he could not hurry them up one-half mile.
as they went farther north they held a bowing council every few hours, and kotick nearly bit off his mustache with impatience till he saw that they were following up a warm current of water, and then he respected them more.
one night they sank through the shiny water -- sank like stones -- and for the first time since he had known them began to swim quickly.
kotick followed, and the pace astonished him, for he never dreamed that sea cow was anything of a swimmer.
they headed for a cliff by the shore -- a cliff that ran down into deep water, and plunged into a dark hole at the foot of it, twenty fathoms under the sea.
it was a long, long swim, and kotick badly wanted fresh air before he was out of the dark tunnel they led him through.
""my wig!"
he said, when he rose, gasping and puffing, into open water at the farther end.
""it was a long dive, but it was worth it."
the sea cows had separated and were browsing lazily along the edges of the finest beaches that kotick had ever seen.
there were long stretches of smooth-worn rock running for miles, exactly fitted to make seal-nurseries, and there were play-grounds of hard sand sloping inland behind them, and there were rollers for seals to dance in, and long grass to roll in, and sand dunes to climb up and down, and, best of all, kotick knew by the feel of the water, which never deceives a true sea catch, that no men had ever come there.
the first thing he did was to assure himself that the fishing was good, and then he swam along the beaches and counted up the delightful low sandy islands half hidden in the beautiful rolling fog.
away to the northward, out to sea, ran a line of bars and shoals and rocks that would never let a ship come within six miles of the beach, and between the islands and the mainland was a stretch of deep water that ran up to the perpendicular cliffs, and somewhere below the cliffs was the mouth of the tunnel.
""it's novastoshnah over again, but ten times better," said kotick.
""sea cow must be wiser than i thought.
men ca n't come down the cliffs, even if there were any men; and the shoals to seaward would knock a ship to splinters.
if any place in the sea is safe, this is it."
he began to think of the seal he had left behind him, but though he was in a hurry to go back to novastoshnah, he thoroughly explored the new country, so that he would be able to answer all questions.
then he dived and made sure of the mouth of the tunnel, and raced through to the southward.
no one but a sea cow or a seal would have dreamed of there being such a place, and when he looked back at the cliffs even kotick could hardly believe that he had been under them.
he was six days going home, though he was not swimming slowly; and when he hauled out just above sea lion's neck the first person he met was the seal who had been waiting for him, and she saw by the look in his eyes that he had found his island at last.
but the holluschickie and sea catch, his father, and all the other seals laughed at him when he told them what he had discovered, and a young seal about his own age said, "this is all very well, kotick, but you ca n't come from no one knows where and order us off like this.
remember we've been fighting for our nurseries, and that's a thing you never did.
you preferred prowling about in the sea."
the other seals laughed at this, and the young seal began twisting his head from side to side.
he had just married that year, and was making a great fuss about it.
""i've no nursery to fight for," said kotick.
""i only want to show you all a place where you will be safe.
what's the use of fighting?"
""oh, if you're trying to back out, of course i've no more to say," said the young seal with an ugly chuckle.
""will you come with me if i win?"
said kotick.
and a green light came into his eye, for he was very angry at having to fight at all.
""very good," said the young seal carelessly.
""if you win, i'll come."
he had no time to change his mind, for kotick's head was out and his teeth sunk in the blubber of the young seal's neck.
then he threw himself back on his haunches and hauled his enemy down the beach, shook him, and knocked him over.
then kotick roared to the seals: "i've done my best for you these five seasons past.
i've found you the island where you'll be safe, but unless your heads are dragged off your silly necks you wo n't believe.
i'm going to teach you now.
look out for yourselves!"
limmershin told me that never in his life -- and limmershin sees ten thousand big seals fighting every year -- never in all his little life did he see anything like kotick's charge into the nurseries.
he flung himself at the biggest sea catch he could find, caught him by the throat, choked him and bumped him and banged him till he grunted for mercy, and then threw him aside and attacked the next.
you see, kotick had never fasted for four months as the big seals did every year, and his deep-sea swimming trips kept him in perfect condition, and, best of all, he had never fought before.
his curly white mane stood up with rage, and his eyes flamed, and his big dog teeth glistened, and he was splendid to look at.
old sea catch, his father, saw him tearing past, hauling the grizzled old seals about as though they had been halibut, and upsetting the young bachelors in all directions; and sea catch gave a roar and shouted: "he may be a fool, but he is the best fighter on the beaches!
do n't tackle your father, my son!
he's with you!"
kotick roared in answer, and old sea catch waddled in with his mustache on end, blowing like a locomotive, while matkah and the seal that was going to marry kotick cowered down and admired their men-folk.
it was a gorgeous fight, for the two fought as long as there was a seal that dared lift up his head, and when there were none they paraded grandly up and down the beach side by side, bellowing.
at night, just as the northern lights were winking and flashing through the fog, kotick climbed a bare rock and looked down on the scattered nurseries and the torn and bleeding seals.
""now," he said, "i've taught you your lesson."
""my wig!"
said old sea catch, boosting himself up stiffly, for he was fearfully mauled.
""the killer whale himself could not have cut them up worse.
son, i'm proud of you, and what's more, i'll come with you to your island -- if there is such a place."
""hear you, fat pigs of the sea.
who comes with me to the sea cow's tunnel?
answer, or i shall teach you again," roared kotick.
there was a murmur like the ripple of the tide all up and down the beaches.
""we will come," said thousands of tired voices.
""we will follow kotick, the white seal."
then kotick dropped his head between his shoulders and shut his eyes proudly.
he was not a white seal any more, but red from head to tail.
all the same he would have scorned to look at or touch one of his wounds.
a week later he and his army -lrb- nearly ten thousand holluschickie and old seals -rrb- went away north to the sea cow's tunnel, kotick leading them, and the seals that stayed at novastoshnah called them idiots.
but next spring, when they all met off the fishing banks of the pacific, kotick's seals told such tales of the new beaches beyond sea cow's tunnel that more and more seals left novastoshnah.
of course it was not all done at once, for the seals are not very clever, and they need a long time to turn things over in their minds, but year after year more seals went away from novastoshnah, and lukannon, and the other nurseries, to the quiet, sheltered beaches where kotick sits all the summer through, getting bigger and fatter and stronger each year, while the holluschickie play around him, in that sea where no man comes.
lukannon this is the great deep-sea song that all the st. paul seals sing when they are heading back to their beaches in the summer.
it is a sort of very sad seal national anthem.
i met my mates in the morning -lrb- and, oh, but i am old! -rrb-
where roaring on the ledges the summer ground-swell rolled; i heard them lift the chorus that drowned the breakers" song -- the beaches of lukannon -- two million voices strong.
the song of pleasant stations beside the salt lagoons, the song of blowing squadrons that shuffled down the dunes, the song of midnight dances that churned the sea to flame -- the beaches of lukannon -- before the sealers came!
i met my mates in the morning -lrb- i'll never meet them more! -rrb-
; they came and went in legions that darkened all the shore.
and o'er the foam-flecked offing as far as voice could reach we hailed the landing-parties and we sang them up the beach.
the beaches of lukannon -- the winter wheat so tall -- the dripping, crinkled lichens, and the sea-fog drenching all!
the platforms of our playground, all shining smooth and worn!
the beaches of lukannon -- the home where we were born!
i met my mates in the morning, a broken, scattered band.
men shoot us in the water and club us on the land; men drive us to the salt house like silly sheep and tame, and still we sing lukannon -- before the sealers came.
wheel down, wheel down to southward; oh, gooverooska, go!
and tell the deep-sea viceroys the story of our woe; ere, empty as the shark's egg the tempest flings ashore, the beaches of lukannon shall know their sons no more!
""rikki-tikki-tavi" at the hole where he went in red-eye called to wrinkle-skin.
hear what little red-eye saith: "nag, come up and dance with death!"
eye to eye and head to head, -lrb- keep the measure, nag. -rrb-
this shall end when one is dead; -lrb- at thy pleasure, nag. -rrb-
turn for turn and twist for twist -- -lrb- run and hide thee, nag. -rrb-
hah!
the hooded death has missed!
-lrb- woe betide thee, nag! -rrb-
this is the story of the great war that rikki-tikki-tavi fought single-handed, through the bath-rooms of the big bungalow in segowlee cantonment.
darzee, the tailorbird, helped him, and chuchundra, the musk-rat, who never comes out into the middle of the floor, but always creeps round by the wall, gave him advice, but rikki-tikki did the real fighting.
he was a mongoose, rather like a little cat in his fur and his tail, but quite like a weasel in his head and his habits.
his eyes and the end of his restless nose were pink.
he could scratch himself anywhere he pleased with any leg, front or back, that he chose to use.
he could fluff up his tail till it looked like a bottle brush, and his war cry as he scuttled through the long grass was: "rikk-tikk-tikki-tikki-tchk!"
one day, a high summer flood washed him out of the burrow where he lived with his father and mother, and carried him, kicking and clucking, down a roadside ditch.
he found a little wisp of grass floating there, and clung to it till he lost his senses.
when he revived, he was lying in the hot sun on the middle of a garden path, very draggled indeed, and a small boy was saying, "here's a dead mongoose.
let's have a funeral."
""no," said his mother, "let's take him in and dry him.
perhaps he is n't really dead."
they took him into the house, and a big man picked him up between his finger and thumb and said he was not dead but half choked.
so they wrapped him in cotton wool, and warmed him over a little fire, and he opened his eyes and sneezed.
""now," said the big man -lrb- he was an englishman who had just moved into the bungalow -rrb-, "do n't frighten him, and we'll see what he'll do."
it is the hardest thing in the world to frighten a mongoose, because he is eaten up from nose to tail with curiosity.
the motto of all the mongoose family is "run and find out," and rikki-tikki was a true mongoose.
he looked at the cotton wool, decided that it was not good to eat, ran all round the table, sat up and put his fur in order, scratched himself, and jumped on the small boy's shoulder.
""do n't be frightened, teddy," said his father.
""that's his way of making friends."
""ouch!
he's tickling under my chin," said teddy.
rikki-tikki looked down between the boy's collar and neck, snuffed at his ear, and climbed down to the floor, where he sat rubbing his nose.
""good gracious," said teddy's mother, "and that's a wild creature!
i suppose he's so tame because we've been kind to him."
""all mongooses are like that," said her husband.
""if teddy does n't pick him up by the tail, or try to put him in a cage, he'll run in and out of the house all day long.
let's give him something to eat."
they gave him a little piece of raw meat.
rikki-tikki liked it immensely, and when it was finished he went out into the veranda and sat in the sunshine and fluffed up his fur to make it dry to the roots.
then he felt better.
""there are more things to find out about in this house," he said to himself, "than all my family could find out in all their lives.
i shall certainly stay and find out."
he spent all that day roaming over the house.
he nearly drowned himself in the bath-tubs, put his nose into the ink on a writing table, and burned it on the end of the big man's cigar, for he climbed up in the big man's lap to see how writing was done.
at nightfall he ran into teddy's nursery to watch how kerosene lamps were lighted, and when teddy went to bed rikki-tikki climbed up too.
but he was a restless companion, because he had to get up and attend to every noise all through the night, and find out what made it.
teddy's mother and father came in, the last thing, to look at their boy, and rikki-tikki was awake on the pillow.
""i do n't like that," said teddy's mother.
""he may bite the child."
""he'll do no such thing," said the father.
""teddy's safer with that little beast than if he had a bloodhound to watch him.
if a snake came into the nursery now --" but teddy's mother would n't think of anything so awful.
early in the morning rikki-tikki came to early breakfast in the veranda riding on teddy's shoulder, and they gave him banana and some boiled egg.
he sat on all their laps one after the other, because every well-brought-up mongoose always hopes to be a house mongoose some day and have rooms to run about in; and rikki-tikki's mother -lrb- she used to live in the general's house at segowlee -rrb- had carefully told rikki what to do if ever he came across white men.
then rikki-tikki went out into the garden to see what was to be seen.
it was a large garden, only half cultivated, with bushes, as big as summer-houses, of marshal niel roses, lime and orange trees, clumps of bamboos, and thickets of high grass.
rikki-tikki licked his lips.
""this is a splendid hunting-ground," he said, and his tail grew bottle-brushy at the thought of it, and he scuttled up and down the garden, snuffing here and there till he heard very sorrowful voices in a thorn-bush.
it was darzee, the tailorbird, and his wife.
they had made a beautiful nest by pulling two big leaves together and stitching them up the edges with fibers, and had filled the hollow with cotton and downy fluff.
the nest swayed to and fro, as they sat on the rim and cried.
""what is the matter?"
asked rikki-tikki.
""we are very miserable," said darzee.
""one of our babies fell out of the nest yesterday and nag ate him."
""h'm!"
said rikki-tikki, "that is very sad -- but i am a stranger here.
who is nag?"
darzee and his wife only cowered down in the nest without answering, for from the thick grass at the foot of the bush there came a low hiss -- a horrid cold sound that made rikki-tikki jump back two clear feet.
then inch by inch out of the grass rose up the head and spread hood of nag, the big black cobra, and he was five feet long from tongue to tail.
when he had lifted one-third of himself clear of the ground, he stayed balancing to and fro exactly as a dandelion tuft balances in the wind, and he looked at rikki-tikki with the wicked snake's eyes that never change their expression, whatever the snake may be thinking of.
""who is nag?"
said he.
""i am nag.
the great god brahm put his mark upon all our people, when the first cobra spread his hood to keep the sun off brahm as he slept.
look, and be afraid!"
he spread out his hood more than ever, and rikki-tikki saw the spectacle-mark on the back of it that looks exactly like the eye part of a hook-and-eye fastening.
he was afraid for the minute, but it is impossible for a mongoose to stay frightened for any length of time, and though rikki-tikki had never met a live cobra before, his mother had fed him on dead ones, and he knew that all a grown mongoose's business in life was to fight and eat snakes.
nag knew that too and, at the bottom of his cold heart, he was afraid.
""well," said rikki-tikki, and his tail began to fluff up again, "marks or no marks, do you think it is right for you to eat fledglings out of a nest?"
nag was thinking to himself, and watching the least little movement in the grass behind rikki-tikki.
he knew that mongooses in the garden meant death sooner or later for him and his family, but he wanted to get rikki-tikki off his guard.
so he dropped his head a little, and put it on one side.
""let us talk," he said.
""you eat eggs.
why should not i eat birds?"
""behind you!
look behind you!"
sang darzee.
rikki-tikki knew better than to waste time in staring.
he jumped up in the air as high as he could go, and just under him whizzed by the head of nagaina, nag's wicked wife.
she had crept up behind him as he was talking, to make an end of him.
he heard her savage hiss as the stroke missed.
he came down almost across her back, and if he had been an old mongoose he would have known that then was the time to break her back with one bite; but he was afraid of the terrible lashing return stroke of the cobra.
he bit, indeed, but did not bite long enough, and he jumped clear of the whisking tail, leaving nagaina torn and angry.
""wicked, wicked darzee!"
said nag, lashing up as high as he could reach toward the nest in the thorn-bush.
but darzee had built it out of reach of snakes, and it only swayed to and fro.
rikki-tikki felt his eyes growing red and hot -lrb- when a mongoose's eyes grow red, he is angry -rrb-, and he sat back on his tail and hind legs like a little kangaroo, and looked all round him, and chattered with rage.
but nag and nagaina had disappeared into the grass.
when a snake misses its stroke, it never says anything or gives any sign of what it means to do next.
rikki-tikki did not care to follow them, for he did not feel sure that he could manage two snakes at once.
so he trotted off to the gravel path near the house, and sat down to think.
it was a serious matter for him.
if you read the old books of natural history, you will find they say that when the mongoose fights the snake and happens to get bitten, he runs off and eats some herb that cures him.
that is not true.
the victory is only a matter of quickness of eye and quickness of foot -- snake's blow against mongoose's jump -- and as no eye can follow the motion of a snake's head when it strikes, this makes things much more wonderful than any magic herb.
rikki-tikki knew he was a young mongoose, and it made him all the more pleased to think that he had managed to escape a blow from behind.
it gave him confidence in himself, and when teddy came running down the path, rikki-tikki was ready to be petted.
but just as teddy was stooping, something wriggled a little in the dust, and a tiny voice said: "be careful.
i am death!"
it was karait, the dusty brown snakeling that lies for choice on the dusty earth; and his bite is as dangerous as the cobra's.
but he is so small that nobody thinks of him, and so he does the more harm to people.
rikki-tikki's eyes grew red again, and he danced up to karait with the peculiar rocking, swaying motion that he had inherited from his family.
it looks very funny, but it is so perfectly balanced a gait that you can fly off from it at any angle you please, and in dealing with snakes this is an advantage.
if rikki-tikki had only known, he was doing a much more dangerous thing than fighting nag, for karait is so small, and can turn so quickly, that unless rikki bit him close to the back of the head, he would get the return stroke in his eye or his lip.
but rikki did not know.
his eyes were all red, and he rocked back and forth, looking for a good place to hold.
karait struck out.
rikki jumped sideways and tried to run in, but the wicked little dusty gray head lashed within a fraction of his shoulder, and he had to jump over the body, and the head followed his heels close.
teddy shouted to the house: "oh, look here!
our mongoose is killing a snake."
and rikki-tikki heard a scream from teddy's mother.
his father ran out with a stick, but by the time he came up, karait had lunged out once too far, and rikki-tikki had sprung, jumped on the snake's back, dropped his head far between his forelegs, bitten as high up the back as he could get hold, and rolled away.
that bite paralyzed karait, and rikki-tikki was just going to eat him up from the tail, after the custom of his family at dinner, when he remembered that a full meal makes a slow mongoose, and if he wanted all his strength and quickness ready, he must keep himself thin.
he went away for a dust bath under the castor-oil bushes, while teddy's father beat the dead karait.
""what is the use of that?"
thought rikki-tikki.
""i have settled it all;" and then teddy's mother picked him up from the dust and hugged him, crying that he had saved teddy from death, and teddy's father said that he was a providence, and teddy looked on with big scared eyes.
rikki-tikki was rather amused at all the fuss, which, of course, he did not understand.
teddy's mother might just as well have petted teddy for playing in the dust.
rikki was thoroughly enjoying himself.
that night at dinner, walking to and fro among the wine-glasses on the table, he might have stuffed himself three times over with nice things.
but he remembered nag and nagaina, and though it was very pleasant to be patted and petted by teddy's mother, and to sit on teddy's shoulder, his eyes would get red from time to time, and he would go off into his long war cry of "rikk-tikk-tikki-tikki-tchk!"
teddy carried him off to bed, and insisted on rikki-tikki sleeping under his chin.
rikki-tikki was too well bred to bite or scratch, but as soon as teddy was asleep he went off for his nightly walk round the house, and in the dark he ran up against chuchundra, the musk-rat, creeping around by the wall.
chuchundra is a broken-hearted little beast.
he whimpers and cheeps all the night, trying to make up his mind to run into the middle of the room.
but he never gets there.
""do n't kill me," said chuchundra, almost weeping.
""rikki-tikki, do n't kill me!"
""do you think a snake-killer kills muskrats?"
said rikki-tikki scornfully.
""those who kill snakes get killed by snakes," said chuchundra, more sorrowfully than ever.
""and how am i to be sure that nag wo n't mistake me for you some dark night?"
""there's not the least danger," said rikki-tikki.
""but nag is in the garden, and i know you do n't go there."
""my cousin chua, the rat, told me --" said chuchundra, and then he stopped.
""told you what?"
""h'sh!
nag is everywhere, rikki-tikki.
you should have talked to chua in the garden."
""i did n't -- so you must tell me.
quick, chuchundra, or i'll bite you!"
chuchundra sat down and cried till the tears rolled off his whiskers.
""i am a very poor man," he sobbed.
""i never had spirit enough to run out into the middle of the room.
h'sh!
i must n't tell you anything.
ca n't you hear, rikki-tikki?"
rikki-tikki listened.
the house was as still as still, but he thought he could just catch the faintest scratch-scratch in the world -- a noise as faint as that of a wasp walking on a window-pane -- the dry scratch of a snake's scales on brick-work.
""that's nag or nagaina," he said to himself, "and he is crawling into the bath-room sluice.
you're right, chuchundra; i should have talked to chua."
he stole off to teddy's bath-room, but there was nothing there, and then to teddy's mother's bathroom.
at the bottom of the smooth plaster wall there was a brick pulled out to make a sluice for the bath water, and as rikki-tikki stole in by the masonry curb where the bath is put, he heard nag and nagaina whispering together outside in the moonlight.
""when the house is emptied of people," said nagaina to her husband, "he will have to go away, and then the garden will be our own again.
go in quietly, and remember that the big man who killed karait is the first one to bite.
then come out and tell me, and we will hunt for rikki-tikki together."
""but are you sure that there is anything to be gained by killing the people?"
said nag.
""everything.
when there were no people in the bungalow, did we have any mongoose in the garden?
so long as the bungalow is empty, we are king and queen of the garden; and remember that as soon as our eggs in the melon bed hatch -lrb- as they may tomorrow -rrb-, our children will need room and quiet."
""i had not thought of that," said nag.
""i will go, but there is no need that we should hunt for rikki-tikki afterward.
i will kill the big man and his wife, and the child if i can, and come away quietly.
then the bungalow will be empty, and rikki-tikki will go."
rikki-tikki tingled all over with rage and hatred at this, and then nag's head came through the sluice, and his five feet of cold body followed it.
angry as he was, rikki-tikki was very frightened as he saw the size of the big cobra.
nag coiled himself up, raised his head, and looked into the bathroom in the dark, and rikki could see his eyes glitter.
""now, if i kill him here, nagaina will know; and if i fight him on the open floor, the odds are in his favor.
what am i to do?"
said rikki-tikki-tavi.
nag waved to and fro, and then rikki-tikki heard him drinking from the biggest water-jar that was used to fill the bath.
""that is good," said the snake.
""now, when karait was killed, the big man had a stick.
he may have that stick still, but when he comes in to bathe in the morning he will not have a stick.
i shall wait here till he comes.
nagaina -- do you hear me?
-- i shall wait here in the cool till daytime."
there was no answer from outside, so rikki-tikki knew nagaina had gone away.
nag coiled himself down, coil by coil, round the bulge at the bottom of the water jar, and rikki-tikki stayed still as death.
after an hour he began to move, muscle by muscle, toward the jar.
nag was asleep, and rikki-tikki looked at his big back, wondering which would be the best place for a good hold.
""if i do n't break his back at the first jump," said rikki, "he can still fight.
and if he fights -- o rikki!"
he looked at the thickness of the neck below the hood, but that was too much for him; and a bite near the tail would only make nag savage.
""it must be the head"" he said at last; "the head above the hood.
and, when i am once there, i must not let go."
then he jumped.
the head was lying a little clear of the water jar, under the curve of it; and, as his teeth met, rikki braced his back against the bulge of the red earthenware to hold down the head.
this gave him just one second's purchase, and he made the most of it.
then he was battered to and fro as a rat is shaken by a dog -- to and fro on the floor, up and down, and around in great circles, but his eyes were red and he held on as the body cart-whipped over the floor, upsetting the tin dipper and the soap dish and the flesh brush, and banged against the tin side of the bath.
as he held he closed his jaws tighter and tighter, for he made sure he would be banged to death, and, for the honor of his family, he preferred to be found with his teeth locked.
he was dizzy, aching, and felt shaken to pieces when something went off like a thunderclap just behind him.
a hot wind knocked him senseless and red fire singed his fur.
the big man had been wakened by the noise, and had fired both barrels of a shotgun into nag just behind the hood.
rikki-tikki held on with his eyes shut, for now he was quite sure he was dead.
but the head did not move, and the big man picked him up and said, "it's the mongoose again, alice.
the little chap has saved our lives now."
then teddy's mother came in with a very white face, and saw what was left of nag, and rikki-tikki dragged himself to teddy's bedroom and spent half the rest of the night shaking himself tenderly to find out whether he really was broken into forty pieces, as he fancied.
when morning came he was very stiff, but well pleased with his doings.
""now i have nagaina to settle with, and she will be worse than five nags, and there's no knowing when the eggs she spoke of will hatch.
goodness!
i must go and see darzee," he said.
without waiting for breakfast, rikki-tikki ran to the thornbush where darzee was singing a song of triumph at the top of his voice.
the news of nag's death was all over the garden, for the sweeper had thrown the body on the rubbish-heap.
""oh, you stupid tuft of feathers!"
said rikki-tikki angrily.
""is this the time to sing?"
""nag is dead -- is dead -- is dead!"
sang darzee.
""the valiant rikki-tikki caught him by the head and held fast.
the big man brought the bang-stick, and nag fell in two pieces!
he will never eat my babies again."
""all that's true enough.
but where's nagaina?"
said rikki-tikki, looking carefully round him.
""nagaina came to the bathroom sluice and called for nag," darzee went on, "and nag came out on the end of a stick -- the sweeper picked him up on the end of a stick and threw him upon the rubbish heap.
let us sing about the great, the red-eyed rikki-tikki!"
and darzee filled his throat and sang.
""if i could get up to your nest, i'd roll your babies out!"
said rikki-tikki.
""you do n't know when to do the right thing at the right time.
you're safe enough in your nest there, but it's war for me down here.
stop singing a minute, darzee."
""for the great, the beautiful rikki-tikki's sake i will stop," said darzee.
""what is it, o killer of the terrible nag?"
""where is nagaina, for the third time?"
""on the rubbish heap by the stables, mourning for nag.
great is rikki-tikki with the white teeth."
""bother my white teeth!
have you ever heard where she keeps her eggs?"
""in the melon bed, on the end nearest the wall, where the sun strikes nearly all day.
she hid them there weeks ago."
""and you never thought it worth while to tell me?
the end nearest the wall, you said?"
""rikki-tikki, you are not going to eat her eggs?"
""not eat exactly; no.
darzee, if you have a grain of sense you will fly off to the stables and pretend that your wing is broken, and let nagaina chase you away to this bush.
i must get to the melon-bed, and if i went there now she'd see me."
darzee was a feather-brained little fellow who could never hold more than one idea at a time in his head.
and just because he knew that nagaina's children were born in eggs like his own, he did n't think at first that it was fair to kill them.
but his wife was a sensible bird, and she knew that cobra's eggs meant young cobras later on.
so she flew off from the nest, and left darzee to keep the babies warm, and continue his song about the death of nag.
darzee was very like a man in some ways.
she fluttered in front of nagaina by the rubbish heap and cried out, "oh, my wing is broken!
the boy in the house threw a stone at me and broke it."
then she fluttered more desperately than ever.
nagaina lifted up her head and hissed, "you warned rikki-tikki when i would have killed him.
indeed and truly, you've chosen a bad place to be lame in."
and she moved toward darzee's wife, slipping along over the dust.
""the boy broke it with a stone!"
shrieked darzee's wife.
""well!
it may be some consolation to you when you're dead to know that i shall settle accounts with the boy.
my husband lies on the rubbish heap this morning, but before night the boy in the house will lie very still.
what is the use of running away?
i am sure to catch you.
little fool, look at me!"
darzee's wife knew better than to do that, for a bird who looks at a snake's eyes gets so frightened that she can not move.
darzee's wife fluttered on, piping sorrowfully, and never leaving the ground, and nagaina quickened her pace.
rikki-tikki heard them going up the path from the stables, and he raced for the end of the melon patch near the wall.
there, in the warm litter above the melons, very cunningly hidden, he found twenty-five eggs, about the size of a bantam's eggs, but with whitish skin instead of shell.
""i was not a day too soon," he said, for he could see the baby cobras curled up inside the skin, and he knew that the minute they were hatched they could each kill a man or a mongoose.
he bit off the tops of the eggs as fast as he could, taking care to crush the young cobras, and turned over the litter from time to time to see whether he had missed any.
at last there were only three eggs left, and rikki-tikki began to chuckle to himself, when he heard darzee's wife screaming: "rikki-tikki, i led nagaina toward the house, and she has gone into the veranda, and -- oh, come quickly -- she means killing!"
rikki-tikki smashed two eggs, and tumbled backward down the melon-bed with the third egg in his mouth, and scuttled to the veranda as hard as he could put foot to the ground.
teddy and his mother and father were there at early breakfast, but rikki-tikki saw that they were not eating anything.
they sat stone-still, and their faces were white.
nagaina was coiled up on the matting by teddy's chair, within easy striking distance of teddy's bare leg, and she was swaying to and fro, singing a song of triumph.
""son of the big man that killed nag," she hissed, "stay still.
i am not ready yet.
wait a little.
keep very still, all you three!
if you move i strike, and if you do not move i strike.
oh, foolish people, who killed my nag!"
teddy's eyes were fixed on his father, and all his father could do was to whisper, "sit still, teddy.
you must n't move.
teddy, keep still."
then rikki-tikki came up and cried, "turn round, nagaina.
turn and fight!"
""all in good time," said she, without moving her eyes.
""i will settle my account with you presently.
look at your friends, rikki-tikki.
they are still and white.
they are afraid.
they dare not move, and if you come a step nearer i strike."
""look at your eggs," said rikki-tikki, "in the melon bed near the wall.
go and look, nagaina!"
the big snake turned half around, and saw the egg on the veranda.
""ah-h!
give it to me," she said.
rikki-tikki put his paws one on each side of the egg, and his eyes were blood-red.
""what price for a snake's egg?
for a young cobra?
for a young king cobra?
for the last -- the very last of the brood?
the ants are eating all the others down by the melon bed."
nagaina spun clear round, forgetting everything for the sake of the one egg.
rikki-tikki saw teddy's father shoot out a big hand, catch teddy by the shoulder, and drag him across the little table with the tea-cups, safe and out of reach of nagaina.
""tricked!
tricked!
tricked!
rikk-tck-tck!"
chuckled rikki-tikki.
""the boy is safe, and it was i -- i -- i that caught nag by the hood last night in the bathroom."
then he began to jump up and down, all four feet together, his head close to the floor.
""he threw me to and fro, but he could not shake me off.
he was dead before the big man blew him in two.
i did it!
rikki-tikki-tck-tck!
come then, nagaina.
come and fight with me.
you shall not be a widow long."
nagaina saw that she had lost her chance of killing teddy, and the egg lay between rikki-tikki's paws.
""give me the egg, rikki-tikki.
give me the last of my eggs, and i will go away and never come back," she said, lowering her hood.
""yes, you will go away, and you will never come back.
for you will go to the rubbish heap with nag.
fight, widow!
the big man has gone for his gun!
fight!"
rikki-tikki was bounding all round nagaina, keeping just out of reach of her stroke, his little eyes like hot coals.
nagaina gathered herself together and flung out at him.
rikki-tikki jumped up and backward.
again and again and again she struck, and each time her head came with a whack on the matting of the veranda and she gathered herself together like a watch spring.
then rikki-tikki danced in a circle to get behind her, and nagaina spun round to keep her head to his head, so that the rustle of her tail on the matting sounded like dry leaves blown along by the wind.
he had forgotten the egg.
it still lay on the veranda, and nagaina came nearer and nearer to it, till at last, while rikki-tikki was drawing breath, she caught it in her mouth, turned to the veranda steps, and flew like an arrow down the path, with rikki-tikki behind her.
when the cobra runs for her life, she goes like a whip-lash flicked across a horse's neck.
rikki-tikki knew that he must catch her, or all the trouble would begin again.
she headed straight for the long grass by the thorn-bush, and as he was running rikki-tikki heard darzee still singing his foolish little song of triumph.
but darzee's wife was wiser.
she flew off her nest as nagaina came along, and flapped her wings about nagaina's head.
if darzee had helped they might have turned her, but nagaina only lowered her hood and went on.
still, the instant's delay brought rikki-tikki up to her, and as she plunged into the rat-hole where she and nag used to live, his little white teeth were clenched on her tail, and he went down with her -- and very few mongooses, however wise and old they may be, care to follow a cobra into its hole.
it was dark in the hole; and rikki-tikki never knew when it might open out and give nagaina room to turn and strike at him.
he held on savagely, and stuck out his feet to act as brakes on the dark slope of the hot, moist earth.
then the grass by the mouth of the hole stopped waving, and darzee said, "it is all over with rikki-tikki!
we must sing his death song.
valiant rikki-tikki is dead!
for nagaina will surely kill him underground."
so he sang a very mournful song that he made up on the spur of the minute, and just as he got to the most touching part, the grass quivered again, and rikki-tikki, covered with dirt, dragged himself out of the hole leg by leg, licking his whiskers.
darzee stopped with a little shout.
rikki-tikki shook some of the dust out of his fur and sneezed.
""it is all over," he said.
""the widow will never come out again."
and the red ants that live between the grass stems heard him, and began to troop down one after another to see if he had spoken the truth.
rikki-tikki curled himself up in the grass and slept where he was -- slept and slept till it was late in the afternoon, for he had done a hard day's work.
""now," he said, when he awoke, "i will go back to the house.
tell the coppersmith, darzee, and he will tell the garden that nagaina is dead."
the coppersmith is a bird who makes a noise exactly like the beating of a little hammer on a copper pot; and the reason he is always making it is because he is the town crier to every indian garden, and tells all the news to everybody who cares to listen.
as rikki-tikki went up the path, he heard his "attention" notes like a tiny dinner gong, and then the steady "ding-dong-tock!
nag is dead -- dong!
nagaina is dead!
ding-dong-tock!"
that set all the birds in the garden singing, and the frogs croaking, for nag and nagaina used to eat frogs as well as little birds.
when rikki got to the house, teddy and teddy's mother -lrb- she looked very white still, for she had been fainting -rrb- and teddy's father came out and almost cried over him; and that night he ate all that was given him till he could eat no more, and went to bed on teddy's shoulder, where teddy's mother saw him when she came to look late at night.
""he saved our lives and teddy's life," she said to her husband.
""just think, he saved all our lives."
rikki-tikki woke up with a jump, for the mongooses are light sleepers.
""oh, it's you," said he.
""what are you bothering for?
all the cobras are dead.
and if they were n't, i'm here."
rikki-tikki had a right to be proud of himself.
but he did not grow too proud, and he kept that garden as a mongoose should keep it, with tooth and jump and spring and bite, till never a cobra dared show its head inside the walls.
darzee's chant -lrb- sung in honor of rikki-tikki-tavi -rrb- singer and tailor am i -- doubled the joys that i know -- proud of my lilt to the sky, proud of the house that i sew -- over and under, so weave i my music -- so weave i the house that i sew.
sing to your fledglings again, mother, oh lift up your head!
evil that plagued us is slain, death in the garden lies dead.
terror that hid in the roses is impotent -- flung on the dung-hill and dead!
who has delivered us, who?
tell me his nest and his name.
rikki, the valiant, the true, tikki, with eyeballs of flame, rikk-tikki-tikki, the ivory-fanged, the hunter with eyeballs of flame!
give him the thanks of the birds, bowing with tail feathers spread!
praise him with nightingale words -- nay, i will praise him instead.
hear!
i will sing you the praise of the bottle-tailed rikki, with eyeballs of red!
-lrb- here rikki-tikki interrupted, and the rest of the song is lost. -rrb-
toomai of the elephants i will remember what i was, i am sick of rope and chain -- i will remember my old strength and all my forest affairs.
i will not sell my back to man for a bundle of sugar-cane: i will go out to my own kind, and the wood-folk in their lairs.
i will go out until the day, until the morning break -- out to the wind's untainted kiss, the water's clean caress; i will forget my ankle-ring and snap my picket stake.
i will revisit my lost loves, and playmates masterless!
kala nag, which means black snake, had served the indian government in every way that an elephant could serve it for forty-seven years, and as he was fully twenty years old when he was caught, that makes him nearly seventy -- a ripe age for an elephant.
he remembered pushing, with a big leather pad on his forehead, at a gun stuck in deep mud, and that was before the afghan war of 1842, and he had not then come to his full strength.
his mother radha pyari, -- radha the darling, -- who had been caught in the same drive with kala nag, told him, before his little milk tusks had dropped out, that elephants who were afraid always got hurt.
kala nag knew that that advice was good, for the first time that he saw a shell burst he backed, screaming, into a stand of piled rifles, and the bayonets pricked him in all his softest places.
so, before he was twenty-five, he gave up being afraid, and so he was the best-loved and the best-looked-after elephant in the service of the government of india.
he had carried tents, twelve hundred pounds" weight of tents, on the march in upper india.
he had been hoisted into a ship at the end of a steam crane and taken for days across the water, and made to carry a mortar on his back in a strange and rocky country very far from india, and had seen the emperor theodore lying dead in magdala, and had come back again in the steamer entitled, so the soldiers said, to the abyssinian war medal.
he had seen his fellow elephants die of cold and epilepsy and starvation and sunstroke up at a place called ali musjid, ten years later; and afterward he had been sent down thousands of miles south to haul and pile big balks of teak in the timberyards at moulmein.
there he had half killed an insubordinate young elephant who was shirking his fair share of work.
after that he was taken off timber-hauling, and employed, with a few score other elephants who were trained to the business, in helping to catch wild elephants among the garo hills.
elephants are very strictly preserved by the indian government.
there is one whole department which does nothing else but hunt them, and catch them, and break them in, and send them up and down the country as they are needed for work.
kala nag stood ten fair feet at the shoulders, and his tusks had been cut off short at five feet, and bound round the ends, to prevent them splitting, with bands of copper; but he could do more with those stumps than any untrained elephant could do with the real sharpened ones.
when, after weeks and weeks of cautious driving of scattered elephants across the hills, the forty or fifty wild monsters were driven into the last stockade, and the big drop gate, made of tree trunks lashed together, jarred down behind them, kala nag, at the word of command, would go into that flaring, trumpeting pandemonium -lrb- generally at night, when the flicker of the torches made it difficult to judge distances -rrb-, and, picking out the biggest and wildest tusker of the mob, would hammer him and hustle him into quiet while the men on the backs of the other elephants roped and tied the smaller ones.
there was nothing in the way of fighting that kala nag, the old wise black snake, did not know, for he had stood up more than once in his time to the charge of the wounded tiger, and, curling up his soft trunk to be out of harm's way, had knocked the springing brute sideways in mid-air with a quick sickle cut of his head, that he had invented all by himself; had knocked him over, and kneeled upon him with his huge knees till the life went out with a gasp and a howl, and there was only a fluffy striped thing on the ground for kala nag to pull by the tail.
""yes," said big toomai, his driver, the son of black toomai who had taken him to abyssinia, and grandson of toomai of the elephants who had seen him caught, "there is nothing that the black snake fears except me.
he has seen three generations of us feed him and groom him, and he will live to see four."
""he is afraid of me also," said little toomai, standing up to his full height of four feet, with only one rag upon him.
he was ten years old, the eldest son of big toomai, and, according to custom, he would take his father's place on kala nag's neck when he grew up, and would handle the heavy iron ankus, the elephant goad, that had been worn smooth by his father, and his grandfather, and his great-grandfather.
he knew what he was talking of; for he had been born under kala nag's shadow, had played with the end of his trunk before he could walk, had taken him down to water as soon as he could walk, and kala nag would no more have dreamed of disobeying his shrill little orders than he would have dreamed of killing him on that day when big toomai carried the little brown baby under kala nag's tusks, and told him to salute his master that was to be.
""yes," said little toomai, "he is afraid of me," and he took long strides up to kala nag, called him a fat old pig, and made him lift up his feet one after the other.
""wah!"
said little toomai, "thou art a big elephant," and he wagged his fluffy head, quoting his father.
""the government may pay for elephants, but they belong to us mahouts.
when thou art old, kala nag, there will come some rich rajah, and he will buy thee from the government, on account of thy size and thy manners, and then thou wilt have nothing to do but to carry gold earrings in thy ears, and a gold howdah on thy back, and a red cloth covered with gold on thy sides, and walk at the head of the processions of the king.
then i shall sit on thy neck, o kala nag, with a silver ankus, and men will run before us with golden sticks, crying, "room for the king's elephant!"
that will be good, kala nag, but not so good as this hunting in the jungles."
""umph!"
said big toomai.
""thou art a boy, and as wild as a buffalo-calf.
this running up and down among the hills is not the best government service.
i am getting old, and i do not love wild elephants.
give me brick elephant lines, one stall to each elephant, and big stumps to tie them to safely, and flat, broad roads to exercise upon, instead of this come-and-go camping.
aha, the cawnpore barracks were good.
there was a bazaar close by, and only three hours" work a day."
little toomai remembered the cawnpore elephant-lines and said nothing.
he very much preferred the camp life, and hated those broad, flat roads, with the daily grubbing for grass in the forage reserve, and the long hours when there was nothing to do except to watch kala nag fidgeting in his pickets.
what little toomai liked was to scramble up bridle paths that only an elephant could take; the dip into the valley below; the glimpses of the wild elephants browsing miles away; the rush of the frightened pig and peacock under kala nag's feet; the blinding warm rains, when all the hills and valleys smoked; the beautiful misty mornings when nobody knew where they would camp that night; the steady, cautious drive of the wild elephants, and the mad rush and blaze and hullabaloo of the last night's drive, when the elephants poured into the stockade like boulders in a landslide, found that they could not get out, and flung themselves at the heavy posts only to be driven back by yells and flaring torches and volleys of blank cartridge.
even a little boy could be of use there, and toomai was as useful as three boys.
he would get his torch and wave it, and yell with the best.
but the really good time came when the driving out began, and the keddah -- that is, the stockade -- looked like a picture of the end of the world, and men had to make signs to one another, because they could not hear themselves speak.
then little toomai would climb up to the top of one of the quivering stockade posts, his sun-bleached brown hair flying loose all over his shoulders, and he looking like a goblin in the torch-light.
and as soon as there was a lull you could hear his high-pitched yells of encouragement to kala nag, above the trumpeting and crashing, and snapping of ropes, and groans of the tethered elephants.
""mael, mael, kala nag!
-lrb- go on, go on, black snake! -rrb-
dant do!
-lrb- give him the tusk! -rrb-
somalo!
somalo!
-lrb- careful, careful! -rrb-
maro!
mar!
-lrb- hit him, hit him! -rrb-
mind the post!
arre!
arre!
hai!
yai!
kya-a-ah!"
he would shout, and the big fight between kala nag and the wild elephant would sway to and fro across the keddah, and the old elephant catchers would wipe the sweat out of their eyes, and find time to nod to little toomai wriggling with joy on the top of the posts.
he did more than wriggle.
one night he slid down from the post and slipped in between the elephants and threw up the loose end of a rope, which had dropped, to a driver who was trying to get a purchase on the leg of a kicking young calf -lrb- calves always give more trouble than full-grown animals -rrb-.
kala nag saw him, caught him in his trunk, and handed him up to big toomai, who slapped him then and there, and put him back on the post.
next morning he gave him a scolding and said, "are not good brick elephant lines and a little tent carrying enough, that thou must needs go elephant catching on thy own account, little worthless?
now those foolish hunters, whose pay is less than my pay, have spoken to petersen sahib of the matter."
little toomai was frightened.
he did not know much of white men, but petersen sahib was the greatest white man in the world to him.
he was the head of all the keddah operations -- the man who caught all the elephants for the government of india, and who knew more about the ways of elephants than any living man.
""what -- what will happen?"
said little toomai.
""happen!
the worst that can happen.
petersen sahib is a madman.
else why should he go hunting these wild devils?
he may even require thee to be an elephant catcher, to sleep anywhere in these fever-filled jungles, and at last to be trampled to death in the keddah.
it is well that this nonsense ends safely.
next week the catching is over, and we of the plains are sent back to our stations.
then we will march on smooth roads, and forget all this hunting.
but, son, i am angry that thou shouldst meddle in the business that belongs to these dirty assamese jungle folk.
kala nag will obey none but me, so i must go with him into the keddah, but he is only a fighting elephant, and he does not help to rope them.
so i sit at my ease, as befits a mahout, -- not a mere hunter, -- a mahout, i say, and a man who gets a pension at the end of his service.
is the family of toomai of the elephants to be trodden underfoot in the dirt of a keddah?
bad one!
wicked one!
worthless son!
go and wash kala nag and attend to his ears, and see that there are no thorns in his feet.
or else petersen sahib will surely catch thee and make thee a wild hunter -- a follower of elephant's foot tracks, a jungle bear.
bah!
shame!
go!"
little toomai went off without saying a word, but he told kala nag all his grievances while he was examining his feet.
""no matter," said little toomai, turning up the fringe of kala nag's huge right ear.
""they have said my name to petersen sahib, and perhaps -- and perhaps -- and perhaps -- who knows?
hai!
that is a big thorn that i have pulled out!"
the next few days were spent in getting the elephants together, in walking the newly caught wild elephants up and down between a couple of tame ones to prevent them giving too much trouble on the downward march to the plains, and in taking stock of the blankets and ropes and things that had been worn out or lost in the forest.
petersen sahib came in on his clever she-elephant pudmini; he had been paying off other camps among the hills, for the season was coming to an end, and there was a native clerk sitting at a table under a tree, to pay the drivers their wages.
as each man was paid he went back to his elephant, and joined the line that stood ready to start.
the catchers, and hunters, and beaters, the men of the regular keddah, who stayed in the jungle year in and year out, sat on the backs of the elephants that belonged to petersen sahib's permanent force, or leaned against the trees with their guns across their arms, and made fun of the drivers who were going away, and laughed when the newly caught elephants broke the line and ran about.
big toomai went up to the clerk with little toomai behind him, and machua appa, the head tracker, said in an undertone to a friend of his, "there goes one piece of good elephant stuff at least.
't is a pity to send that young jungle-cock to molt in the plains."
now petersen sahib had ears all over him, as a man must have who listens to the most silent of all living things -- the wild elephant.
he turned where he was lying all along on pudmini's back and said, "what is that?
i did not know of a man among the plains-drivers who had wit enough to rope even a dead elephant."
""this is not a man, but a boy.
he went into the keddah at the last drive, and threw barmao there the rope, when we were trying to get that young calf with the blotch on his shoulder away from his mother."
machua appa pointed at little toomai, and petersen sahib looked, and little toomai bowed to the earth.
""he throw a rope?
he is smaller than a picket-pin.
little one, what is thy name?"
said petersen sahib.
little toomai was too frightened to speak, but kala nag was behind him, and toomai made a sign with his hand, and the elephant caught him up in his trunk and held him level with pudmini's forehead, in front of the great petersen sahib.
then little toomai covered his face with his hands, for he was only a child, and except where elephants were concerned, he was just as bashful as a child could be.
""oho!"
said petersen sahib, smiling underneath his mustache, "and why didst thou teach thy elephant that trick?
was it to help thee steal green corn from the roofs of the houses when the ears are put out to dry?"
""not green corn, protector of the poor, -- melons," said little toomai, and all the men sitting about broke into a roar of laughter.
most of them had taught their elephants that trick when they were boys.
little toomai was hanging eight feet up in the air, and he wished very much that he were eight feet underground.
""he is toomai, my son, sahib," said big toomai, scowling.
""he is a very bad boy, and he will end in a jail, sahib."
""of that i have my doubts," said petersen sahib.
""a boy who can face a full keddah at his age does not end in jails.
see, little one, here are four annas to spend in sweetmeats because thou hast a little head under that great thatch of hair.
in time thou mayest become a hunter too."
big toomai scowled more than ever.
""remember, though, that keddahs are not good for children to play in," petersen sahib went on.
""must i never go there, sahib?"
asked little toomai with a big gasp.
""yes."
petersen sahib smiled again.
""when thou hast seen the elephants dance.
that is the proper time.
come to me when thou hast seen the elephants dance, and then i will let thee go into all the keddahs."
there was another roar of laughter, for that is an old joke among elephant-catchers, and it means just never.
there are great cleared flat places hidden away in the forests that are called elephants" ball-rooms, but even these are only found by accident, and no man has ever seen the elephants dance.
when a driver boasts of his skill and bravery the other drivers say, "and when didst thou see the elephants dance?"
kala nag put little toomai down, and he bowed to the earth again and went away with his father, and gave the silver four-anna piece to his mother, who was nursing his baby brother, and they all were put up on kala nag's back, and the line of grunting, squealing elephants rolled down the hill path to the plains.
it was a very lively march on account of the new elephants, who gave trouble at every ford, and needed coaxing or beating every other minute.
big toomai prodded kala nag spitefully, for he was very angry, but little toomai was too happy to speak.
petersen sahib had noticed him, and given him money, so he felt as a private soldier would feel if he had been called out of the ranks and praised by his commander-in-chief.
""what did petersen sahib mean by the elephant dance?"
he said, at last, softly to his mother.
big toomai heard him and grunted.
""that thou shouldst never be one of these hill buffaloes of trackers.
that was what he meant.
oh, you in front, what is blocking the way?"
an assamese driver, two or three elephants ahead, turned round angrily, crying: "bring up kala nag, and knock this youngster of mine into good behavior.
why should petersen sahib have chosen me to go down with you donkeys of the rice fields?
lay your beast alongside, toomai, and let him prod with his tusks.
by all the gods of the hills, these new elephants are possessed, or else they can smell their companions in the jungle."
kala nag hit the new elephant in the ribs and knocked the wind out of him, as big toomai said, "we have swept the hills of wild elephants at the last catch.
it is only your carelessness in driving.
must i keep order along the whole line?"
""hear him!"
said the other driver.
""we have swept the hills!
ho!
ho!
you are very wise, you plains people.
anyone but a mud-head who never saw the jungle would know that they know that the drives are ended for the season.
therefore all the wild elephants to-night will -- but why should i waste wisdom on a river-turtle?"
""what will they do?"
little toomai called out.
""ohe, little one.
art thou there?
well, i will tell thee, for thou hast a cool head.
they will dance, and it behooves thy father, who has swept all the hills of all the elephants, to double-chain his pickets to-night."
""what talk is this?"
said big toomai.
""for forty years, father and son, we have tended elephants, and we have never heard such moonshine about dances."
""yes; but a plainsman who lives in a hut knows only the four walls of his hut.
well, leave thy elephants unshackled tonight and see what comes.
as for their dancing, i have seen the place where -- bapree-bap!
how many windings has the dihang river?
here is another ford, and we must swim the calves.
stop still, you behind there."
and in this way, talking and wrangling and splashing through the rivers, they made their first march to a sort of receiving camp for the new elephants.
but they lost their tempers long before they got there.
then the elephants were chained by their hind legs to their big stumps of pickets, and extra ropes were fitted to the new elephants, and the fodder was piled before them, and the hill drivers went back to petersen sahib through the afternoon light, telling the plains drivers to be extra careful that night, and laughing when the plains drivers asked the reason.
little toomai attended to kala nag's supper, and as evening fell, wandered through the camp, unspeakably happy, in search of a tom-tom.
when an indian child's heart is full, he does not run about and make a noise in an irregular fashion.
he sits down to a sort of revel all by himself.
and little toomai had been spoken to by petersen sahib!
if he had not found what he wanted, i believe he would have been ill.
but the sweetmeat seller in the camp lent him a little tom-tom -- a drum beaten with the flat of the hand -- and he sat down, cross-legged, before kala nag as the stars began to come out, the tom-tom in his lap, and he thumped and he thumped and he thumped, and the more he thought of the great honor that had been done to him, the more he thumped, all alone among the elephant fodder.
there was no tune and no words, but the thumping made him happy.
the new elephants strained at their ropes, and squealed and trumpeted from time to time, and he could hear his mother in the camp hut putting his small brother to sleep with an old, old song about the great god shiv, who once told all the animals what they should eat.
it is a very soothing lullaby, and the first verse says: shiv, who poured the harvest and made the winds to blow, sitting at the doorways of a day of long ago, gave to each his portion, food and toil and fate, from the king upon the guddee to the beggar at the gate.
all things made he -- shiva the preserver.
mahadeo!
mahadeo!
he made all -- thorn for the camel, fodder for the kine, and mother's heart for sleepy head, o little son of mine!
little toomai came in with a joyous tunk-a-tunk at the end of each verse, till he felt sleepy and stretched himself on the fodder at kala nag's side.
at last the elephants began to lie down one after another as is their custom, till only kala nag at the right of the line was left standing up; and he rocked slowly from side to side, his ears put forward to listen to the night wind as it blew very slowly across the hills.
the air was full of all the night noises that, taken together, make one big silence -- the click of one bamboo stem against the other, the rustle of something alive in the undergrowth, the scratch and squawk of a half-waked bird -lrb- birds are awake in the night much more often than we imagine -rrb-, and the fall of water ever so far away.
little toomai slept for some time, and when he waked it was brilliant moonlight, and kala nag was still standing up with his ears cocked.
little toomai turned, rustling in the fodder, and watched the curve of his big back against half the stars in heaven, and while he watched he heard, so far away that it sounded no more than a pinhole of noise pricked through the stillness, the "hoot-toot" of a wild elephant.
all the elephants in the lines jumped up as if they had been shot, and their grunts at last waked the sleeping mahouts, and they came out and drove in the picket pegs with big mallets, and tightened this rope and knotted that till all was quiet.
one new elephant had nearly grubbed up his picket, and big toomai took off kala nag's leg chain and shackled that elephant fore-foot to hind-foot, but slipped a loop of grass string round kala nag's leg, and told him to remember that he was tied fast.
he knew that he and his father and his grandfather had done the very same thing hundreds of times before.
kala nag did not answer to the order by gurgling, as he usually did.
he stood still, looking out across the moonlight, his head a little raised and his ears spread like fans, up to the great folds of the garo hills.
""tend to him if he grows restless in the night," said big toomai to little toomai, and he went into the hut and slept.
little toomai was just going to sleep, too, when he heard the coir string snap with a little "tang," and kala nag rolled out of his pickets as slowly and as silently as a cloud rolls out of the mouth of a valley.
little toomai pattered after him, barefooted, down the road in the moonlight, calling under his breath, "kala nag!
kala nag!
take me with you, o kala nag!"
the elephant turned, without a sound, took three strides back to the boy in the moonlight, put down his trunk, swung him up to his neck, and almost before little toomai had settled his knees, slipped into the forest.
there was one blast of furious trumpeting from the lines, and then the silence shut down on everything, and kala nag began to move.
sometimes a tuft of high grass washed along his sides as a wave washes along the sides of a ship, and sometimes a cluster of wild-pepper vines would scrape along his back, or a bamboo would creak where his shoulder touched it.
but between those times he moved absolutely without any sound, drifting through the thick garo forest as though it had been smoke.
he was going uphill, but though little toomai watched the stars in the rifts of the trees, he could not tell in what direction.
then kala nag reached the crest of the ascent and stopped for a minute, and little toomai could see the tops of the trees lying all speckled and furry under the moonlight for miles and miles, and the blue-white mist over the river in the hollow.
toomai leaned forward and looked, and he felt that the forest was awake below him -- awake and alive and crowded.
a big brown fruit-eating bat brushed past his ear; a porcupine's quills rattled in the thicket; and in the darkness between the tree stems he heard a hog-bear digging hard in the moist warm earth, and snuffing as it digged.
then the branches closed over his head again, and kala nag began to go down into the valley -- not quietly this time, but as a runaway gun goes down a steep bank -- in one rush.
the huge limbs moved as steadily as pistons, eight feet to each stride, and the wrinkled skin of the elbow points rustled.
the undergrowth on either side of him ripped with a noise like torn canvas, and the saplings that he heaved away right and left with his shoulders sprang back again and banged him on the flank, and great trails of creepers, all matted together, hung from his tusks as he threw his head from side to side and plowed out his pathway.
then little toomai laid himself down close to the great neck lest a swinging bough should sweep him to the ground, and he wished that he were back in the lines again.
the grass began to get squashy, and kala nag's feet sucked and squelched as he put them down, and the night mist at the bottom of the valley chilled little toomai.
there was a splash and a trample, and the rush of running water, and kala nag strode through the bed of a river, feeling his way at each step.
above the noise of the water, as it swirled round the elephant's legs, little toomai could hear more splashing and some trumpeting both upstream and down -- great grunts and angry snortings, and all the mist about him seemed to be full of rolling, wavy shadows.
""ai!"
he said, half aloud, his teeth chattering.
""the elephant-folk are out tonight.
it is the dance, then!"
kala nag swashed out of the water, blew his trunk clear, and began another climb.
but this time he was not alone, and he had not to make his path.
that was made already, six feet wide, in front of him, where the bent jungle-grass was trying to recover itself and stand up.
many elephants must have gone that way only a few minutes before.
little toomai looked back, and behind him a great wild tusker with his little pig's eyes glowing like hot coals was just lifting himself out of the misty river.
then the trees closed up again, and they went on and up, with trumpetings and crashings, and the sound of breaking branches on every side of them.
at last kala nag stood still between two tree-trunks at the very top of the hill.
they were part of a circle of trees that grew round an irregular space of some three or four acres, and in all that space, as little toomai could see, the ground had been trampled down as hard as a brick floor.
some trees grew in the center of the clearing, but their bark was rubbed away, and the white wood beneath showed all shiny and polished in the patches of moonlight.
there were creepers hanging from the upper branches, and the bells of the flowers of the creepers, great waxy white things like convolvuluses, hung down fast asleep.
but within the limits of the clearing there was not a single blade of green -- nothing but the trampled earth.
the moonlight showed it all iron gray, except where some elephants stood upon it, and their shadows were inky black.
little toomai looked, holding his breath, with his eyes starting out of his head, and as he looked, more and more and more elephants swung out into the open from between the tree trunks.
little toomai could only count up to ten, and he counted again and again on his fingers till he lost count of the tens, and his head began to swim.
outside the clearing he could hear them crashing in the undergrowth as they worked their way up the hillside, but as soon as they were within the circle of the tree trunks they moved like ghosts.
there were white-tusked wild males, with fallen leaves and nuts and twigs lying in the wrinkles of their necks and the folds of their ears; fat, slow-footed she-elephants, with restless, little pinky black calves only three or four feet high running under their stomachs; young elephants with their tusks just beginning to show, and very proud of them; lanky, scraggy old-maid elephants, with their hollow anxious faces, and trunks like rough bark; savage old bull elephants, scarred from shoulder to flank with great weals and cuts of bygone fights, and the caked dirt of their solitary mud baths dropping from their shoulders; and there was one with a broken tusk and the marks of the full-stroke, the terrible drawing scrape, of a tiger's claws on his side.
they were standing head to head, or walking to and fro across the ground in couples, or rocking and swaying all by themselves -- scores and scores of elephants.
toomai knew that so long as he lay still on kala nag's neck nothing would happen to him, for even in the rush and scramble of a keddah drive a wild elephant does not reach up with his trunk and drag a man off the neck of a tame elephant.
and these elephants were not thinking of men that night.
once they started and put their ears forward when they heard the chinking of a leg iron in the forest, but it was pudmini, petersen sahib's pet elephant, her chain snapped short off, grunting, snuffling up the hillside.
she must have broken her pickets and come straight from petersen sahib's camp; and little toomai saw another elephant, one that he did not know, with deep rope galls on his back and breast.
he, too, must have run away from some camp in the hills about.
at last there was no sound of any more elephants moving in the forest, and kala nag rolled out from his station between the trees and went into the middle of the crowd, clucking and gurgling, and all the elephants began to talk in their own tongue, and to move about.
still lying down, little toomai looked down upon scores and scores of broad backs, and wagging ears, and tossing trunks, and little rolling eyes.
he heard the click of tusks as they crossed other tusks by accident, and the dry rustle of trunks twined together, and the chafing of enormous sides and shoulders in the crowd, and the incessant flick and hissh of the great tails.
then a cloud came over the moon, and he sat in black darkness.
but the quiet, steady hustling and pushing and gurgling went on just the same.
he knew that there were elephants all round kala nag, and that there was no chance of backing him out of the assembly; so he set his teeth and shivered.
in a keddah at least there was torchlight and shouting, but here he was all alone in the dark, and once a trunk came up and touched him on the knee.
then an elephant trumpeted, and they all took it up for five or ten terrible seconds.
the dew from the trees above spattered down like rain on the unseen backs, and a dull booming noise began, not very loud at first, and little toomai could not tell what it was.
but it grew and grew, and kala nag lifted up one forefoot and then the other, and brought them down on the ground -- one-two, one-two, as steadily as trip-hammers.
the elephants were stamping all together now, and it sounded like a war drum beaten at the mouth of a cave.
the dew fell from the trees till there was no more left to fall, and the booming went on, and the ground rocked and shivered, and little toomai put his hands up to his ears to shut out the sound.
but it was all one gigantic jar that ran through him -- this stamp of hundreds of heavy feet on the raw earth.
once or twice he could feel kala nag and all the others surge forward a few strides, and the thumping would change to the crushing sound of juicy green things being bruised, but in a minute or two the boom of feet on hard earth began again.
a tree was creaking and groaning somewhere near him.
he put out his arm and felt the bark, but kala nag moved forward, still tramping, and he could not tell where he was in the clearing.
there was no sound from the elephants, except once, when two or three little calves squeaked together.
then he heard a thump and a shuffle, and the booming went on.
it must have lasted fully two hours, and little toomai ached in every nerve, but he knew by the smell of the night air that the dawn was coming.
the morning broke in one sheet of pale yellow behind the green hills, and the booming stopped with the first ray, as though the light had been an order.
before little toomai had got the ringing out of his head, before even he had shifted his position, there was not an elephant in sight except kala nag, pudmini, and the elephant with the rope-galls, and there was neither sign nor rustle nor whisper down the hillsides to show where the others had gone.
little toomai stared again and again.
the clearing, as he remembered it, had grown in the night.
more trees stood in the middle of it, but the undergrowth and the jungle grass at the sides had been rolled back.
little toomai stared once more.
now he understood the trampling.
the elephants had stamped out more room -- had stamped the thick grass and juicy cane to trash, the trash into slivers, the slivers into tiny fibers, and the fibers into hard earth.
""wah!"
said little toomai, and his eyes were very heavy.
""kala nag, my lord, let us keep by pudmini and go to petersen sahib's camp, or i shall drop from thy neck."
the third elephant watched the two go away, snorted, wheeled round, and took his own path.
he may have belonged to some little native king's establishment, fifty or sixty or a hundred miles away.
two hours later, as petersen sahib was eating early breakfast, his elephants, who had been double chained that night, began to trumpet, and pudmini, mired to the shoulders, with kala nag, very footsore, shambled into the camp.
little toomai's face was gray and pinched, and his hair was full of leaves and drenched with dew, but he tried to salute petersen sahib, and cried faintly: "the dance -- the elephant dance!
i have seen it, and -- i die!"
as kala nag sat down, he slid off his neck in a dead faint.
but, since native children have no nerves worth speaking of, in two hours he was lying very contentedly in petersen sahib's hammock with petersen sahib's shooting-coat under his head, and a glass of warm milk, a little brandy, with a dash of quinine, inside of him, and while the old hairy, scarred hunters of the jungles sat three deep before him, looking at him as though he were a spirit, he told his tale in short words, as a child will, and wound up with: "now, if i lie in one word, send men to see, and they will find that the elephant folk have trampled down more room in their dance-room, and they will find ten and ten, and many times ten, tracks leading to that dance-room.
they made more room with their feet.
i have seen it.
kala nag took me, and i saw.
also kala nag is very leg-weary!"
little toomai lay back and slept all through the long afternoon and into the twilight, and while he slept petersen sahib and machua appa followed the track of the two elephants for fifteen miles across the hills.
petersen sahib had spent eighteen years in catching elephants, and he had only once before found such a dance-place.
machua appa had no need to look twice at the clearing to see what had been done there, or to scratch with his toe in the packed, rammed earth.
""the child speaks truth," said he.
""all this was done last night, and i have counted seventy tracks crossing the river.
see, sahib, where pudmini's leg-iron cut the bark of that tree!
yes; she was there too."
they looked at one another and up and down, and they wondered.
for the ways of elephants are beyond the wit of any man, black or white, to fathom.
""forty years and five," said machua appa, "have i followed my lord, the elephant, but never have i heard that any child of man had seen what this child has seen.
by all the gods of the hills, it is -- what can we say?"
and he shook his head.
when they got back to camp it was time for the evening meal.
petersen sahib ate alone in his tent, but he gave orders that the camp should have two sheep and some fowls, as well as a double ration of flour and rice and salt, for he knew that there would be a feast.
big toomai had come up hotfoot from the camp in the plains to search for his son and his elephant, and now that he had found them he looked at them as though he were afraid of them both.
and there was a feast by the blazing campfires in front of the lines of picketed elephants, and little toomai was the hero of it all.
and the big brown elephant catchers, the trackers and drivers and ropers, and the men who know all the secrets of breaking the wildest elephants, passed him from one to the other, and they marked his forehead with blood from the breast of a newly killed jungle-cock, to show that he was a forester, initiated and free of all the jungles.
and at last, when the flames died down, and the red light of the logs made the elephants look as though they had been dipped in blood too, machua appa, the head of all the drivers of all the keddahs -- machua appa, petersen sahib's other self, who had never seen a made road in forty years: machua appa, who was so great that he had no other name than machua appa, -- leaped to his feet, with little toomai held high in the air above his head, and shouted: "listen, my brothers.
listen, too, you my lords in the lines there, for i, machua appa, am speaking!
this little one shall no more be called little toomai, but toomai of the elephants, as his great-grandfather was called before him.
what never man has seen he has seen through the long night, and the favor of the elephant-folk and of the gods of the jungles is with him.
he shall become a great tracker.
he shall become greater than i, even i, machua appa!
he shall follow the new trail, and the stale trail, and the mixed trail, with a clear eye!
he shall take no harm in the keddah when he runs under their bellies to rope the wild tuskers; and if he slips before the feet of the charging bull elephant, the bull elephant shall know who he is and shall not crush him.
aihai!
my lords in the chains," -- he whirled up the line of pickets -- "here is the little one that has seen your dances in your hidden places, -- the sight that never man saw!
give him honor, my lords!
salaam karo, my children.
make your salute to toomai of the elephants!
gunga pershad, ahaa!
hira guj, birchi guj, kuttar guj, ahaa!
pudmini, -- thou hast seen him at the dance, and thou too, kala nag, my pearl among elephants!
-- ahaa!
together!
to toomai of the elephants.
barrao!"
and at that last wild yell the whole line flung up their trunks till the tips touched their foreheads, and broke out into the full salute -- the crashing trumpet-peal that only the viceroy of india hears, the salaamut of the keddah.
but it was all for the sake of little toomai, who had seen what never man had seen before -- the dance of the elephants at night and alone in the heart of the garo hills!
shiv and the grasshopper -lrb- the song that toomai's mother sang to the baby -rrb- shiv, who poured the harvest and made the winds to blow, sitting at the doorways of a day of long ago, gave to each his portion, food and toil and fate, from the king upon the guddee to the beggar at the gate.
all things made he -- shiva the preserver.
mahadeo!
mahadeo!
he made all, -- thorn for the camel, fodder for the kine, and mother's heart for sleepy head, o little son of mine!
wheat he gave to rich folk, millet to the poor, broken scraps for holy men that beg from door to door; battle to the tiger, carrion to the kite, and rags and bones to wicked wolves without the wall at night.
naught he found too lofty, none he saw too low -- parbati beside him watched them come and go; thought to cheat her husband, turning shiv to jest -- stole the little grasshopper and hid it in her breast.
so she tricked him, shiva the preserver.
mahadeo!
mahadeo!
turn and see.
tall are the camels, heavy are the kine, but this was least of little things, o little son of mine!
when the dole was ended, laughingly she said, "master, of a million mouths, is not one unfed?"
laughing, shiv made answer, "all have had their part, even he, the little one, hidden "neath thy heart."
from her breast she plucked it, parbati the thief, saw the least of little things gnawed a new-grown leaf!
saw and feared and wondered, making prayer to shiv, who hath surely given meat to all that live.
all things made he -- shiva the preserver.
mahadeo!
mahadeo!
he made all, -- thorn for the camel, fodder for the kine, and mother's heart for sleepy head, o little son of mine!
her majesty's servants you can work it out by fractions or by simple rule of three, but the way of tweedle-dum is not the way of tweedle-dee.
you can twist it, you can turn it, you can plait it till you drop, but the way of pilly winky's not the way of winkie pop!
it had been raining heavily for one whole month -- raining on a camp of thirty thousand men and thousands of camels, elephants, horses, bullocks, and mules all gathered together at a place called rawal pindi, to be reviewed by the viceroy of india.
he was receiving a visit from the amir of afghanistan -- a wild king of a very wild country.
the amir had brought with him for a bodyguard eight hundred men and horses who had never seen a camp or a locomotive before in their lives -- savage men and savage horses from somewhere at the back of central asia.
every night a mob of these horses would be sure to break their heel ropes and stampede up and down the camp through the mud in the dark, or the camels would break loose and run about and fall over the ropes of the tents, and you can imagine how pleasant that was for men trying to go to sleep.
my tent lay far away from the camel lines, and i thought it was safe.
but one night a man popped his head in and shouted, "get out, quick!
they're coming!
my tent's gone!"
i knew who "they" were, so i put on my boots and waterproof and scuttled out into the slush.
little vixen, my fox terrier, went out through the other side; and then there was a roaring and a grunting and bubbling, and i saw the tent cave in, as the pole snapped, and begin to dance about like a mad ghost.
a camel had blundered into it, and wet and angry as i was, i could not help laughing.
then i ran on, because i did not know how many camels might have got loose, and before long i was out of sight of the camp, plowing my way through the mud.
at last i fell over the tail-end of a gun, and by that knew i was somewhere near the artillery lines where the cannon were stacked at night.
as i did not want to plowter about any more in the drizzle and the dark, i put my waterproof over the muzzle of one gun, and made a sort of wigwam with two or three rammers that i found, and lay along the tail of another gun, wondering where vixen had got to, and where i might be.
just as i was getting ready to go to sleep i heard a jingle of harness and a grunt, and a mule passed me shaking his wet ears.
he belonged to a screw-gun battery, for i could hear the rattle of the straps and rings and chains and things on his saddle pad.
the screw-guns are tiny little cannon made in two pieces, that are screwed together when the time comes to use them.
they are taken up mountains, anywhere that a mule can find a road, and they are very useful for fighting in rocky country.
behind the mule there was a camel, with his big soft feet squelching and slipping in the mud, and his neck bobbing to and fro like a strayed hen's.
luckily, i knew enough of beast language -- not wild-beast language, but camp-beast language, of course -- from the natives to know what he was saying.
he must have been the one that flopped into my tent, for he called to the mule, "what shall i do?
where shall i go?
i have fought with a white thing that waved, and it took a stick and hit me on the neck."
-lrb- that was my broken tent pole, and i was very glad to know it. -rrb-
""shall we run on?"
""oh, it was you," said the mule, "you and your friends, that have been disturbing the camp?
all right.
you'll be beaten for this in the morning.
but i may as well give you something on account now."
i heard the harness jingle as the mule backed and caught the camel two kicks in the ribs that rang like a drum.
""another time," he said, "you'll know better than to run through a mule battery at night, shouting "thieves and fire!"
sit down, and keep your silly neck quiet."
the camel doubled up camel-fashion, like a two-foot rule, and sat down whimpering.
there was a regular beat of hoofs in the darkness, and a big troop-horse cantered up as steadily as though he were on parade, jumped a gun tail, and landed close to the mule.
""it's disgraceful," he said, blowing out his nostrils.
""those camels have racketed through our lines again -- the third time this week.
how's a horse to keep his condition if he is n't allowed to sleep.
who's here?"
""i'm the breech-piece mule of number two gun of the first screw battery," said the mule, "and the other's one of your friends.
he's waked me up too.
who are you?"
""number fifteen, e troop, ninth lancers -- dick cunliffe's horse.
stand over a little, there."
""oh, beg your pardon," said the mule.
""it's too dark to see much.
are n't these camels too sickening for anything?
i walked out of my lines to get a little peace and quiet here."
""my lords," said the camel humbly, "we dreamed bad dreams in the night, and we were very much afraid.
i am only a baggage camel of the 39th native infantry, and i am not as brave as you are, my lords."
""then why did n't you stay and carry baggage for the 39th native infantry, instead of running all round the camp?"
said the mule.
""they were such very bad dreams," said the camel.
""i am sorry.
listen!
what is that?
shall we run on again?"
""sit down," said the mule, "or you'll snap your long stick-legs between the guns."
he cocked one ear and listened.
""bullocks!"
he said.
""gun bullocks.
on my word, you and your friends have waked the camp very thoroughly.
it takes a good deal of prodding to put up a gun-bullock."
i heard a chain dragging along the ground, and a yoke of the great sulky white bullocks that drag the heavy siege guns when the elephants wo n't go any nearer to the firing, came shouldering along together.
and almost stepping on the chain was another battery mule, calling wildly for "billy."
""that's one of our recruits," said the old mule to the troop horse.
""he's calling for me.
here, youngster, stop squealing.
the dark never hurt anybody yet."
the gun-bullocks lay down together and began chewing the cud, but the young mule huddled close to billy.
""things!"
he said.
""fearful and horrible, billy!
they came into our lines while we were asleep.
d'you think they'll kill us?"
""i've a very great mind to give you a number-one kicking," said billy.
""the idea of a fourteen-hand mule with your training disgracing the battery before this gentleman!"
""gently, gently!"
said the troop-horse.
""remember they are always like this to begin with.
the first time i ever saw a man -lrb- it was in australia when i was a three-year-old -rrb- i ran for half a day, and if i'd seen a camel, i should have been running still."
nearly all our horses for the english cavalry are brought to india from australia, and are broken in by the troopers themselves.
""true enough," said billy.
""stop shaking, youngster.
the first time they put the full harness with all its chains on my back i stood on my forelegs and kicked every bit of it off.
i had n't learned the real science of kicking then, but the battery said they had never seen anything like it."
""but this was n't harness or anything that jingled," said the young mule.
""you know i do n't mind that now, billy.
it was things like trees, and they fell up and down the lines and bubbled; and my head-rope broke, and i could n't find my driver, and i could n't find you, billy, so i ran off with -- with these gentlemen."
""h'm!"
said billy.
""as soon as i heard the camels were loose i came away on my own account.
when a battery -- a screw-gun mule calls gun-bullocks gentlemen, he must be very badly shaken up.
who are you fellows on the ground there?"
the gun bullocks rolled their cuds, and answered both together: "the seventh yoke of the first gun of the big gun battery.
we were asleep when the camels came, but when we were trampled on we got up and walked away.
it is better to lie quiet in the mud than to be disturbed on good bedding.
we told your friend here that there was nothing to be afraid of, but he knew so much that he thought otherwise.
wah!"
they went on chewing.
""that comes of being afraid," said billy.
""you get laughed at by gun-bullocks.
i hope you like it, young un."
the young mule's teeth snapped, and i heard him say something about not being afraid of any beefy old bullock in the world.
but the bullocks only clicked their horns together and went on chewing.
""now, do n't be angry after you've been afraid.
that's the worst kind of cowardice," said the troop-horse.
""anybody can be forgiven for being scared in the night, i think, if they see things they do n't understand.
we've broken out of our pickets, again and again, four hundred and fifty of us, just because a new recruit got to telling tales of whip snakes at home in australia till we were scared to death of the loose ends of our head-ropes."
""that's all very well in camp," said billy.
""i'm not above stampeding myself, for the fun of the thing, when i have n't been out for a day or two.
but what do you do on active service?"
""oh, that's quite another set of new shoes," said the troop horse.
""dick cunliffe's on my back then, and drives his knees into me, and all i have to do is to watch where i am putting my feet, and to keep my hind legs well under me, and be bridle-wise."
""what's bridle-wise?"
said the young mule.
""by the blue gums of the back blocks," snorted the troop-horse, "do you mean to say that you are n't taught to be bridle-wise in your business?
how can you do anything, unless you can spin round at once when the rein is pressed on your neck?
it means life or death to your man, and of course that's life and death to you.
get round with your hind legs under you the instant you feel the rein on your neck.
if you have n't room to swing round, rear up a little and come round on your hind legs.
that's being bridle-wise."
""we are n't taught that way," said billy the mule stiffly.
""we're taught to obey the man at our head: step off when he says so, and step in when he says so.
i suppose it comes to the same thing.
now, with all this fine fancy business and rearing, which must be very bad for your hocks, what do you do?"
""that depends," said the troop-horse.
""generally i have to go in among a lot of yelling, hairy men with knives -- long shiny knives, worse than the farrier's knives -- and i have to take care that dick's boot is just touching the next man's boot without crushing it.
i can see dick's lance to the right of my right eye, and i know i'm safe.
i should n't care to be the man or horse that stood up to dick and me when we're in a hurry."
""do n't the knives hurt?"
said the young mule.
""well, i got one cut across the chest once, but that was n't dick's fault --" "a lot i should have cared whose fault it was, if it hurt!"
said the young mule.
""you must," said the troop horse.
""if you do n't trust your man, you may as well run away at once.
that's what some of our horses do, and i do n't blame them.
as i was saying, it was n't dick's fault.
the man was lying on the ground, and i stretched myself not to tread on him, and he slashed up at me.
next time i have to go over a man lying down i shall step on him -- hard."
""h'm!"
said billy.
""it sounds very foolish.
knives are dirty things at any time.
the proper thing to do is to climb up a mountain with a well-balanced saddle, hang on by all four feet and your ears too, and creep and crawl and wriggle along, till you come out hundreds of feet above anyone else on a ledge where there's just room enough for your hoofs.
then you stand still and keep quiet -- never ask a man to hold your head, young un -- keep quiet while the guns are being put together, and then you watch the little poppy shells drop down into the tree-tops ever so far below."
""do n't you ever trip?"
said the troop-horse.
""they say that when a mule trips you can split a hen's ear," said billy.
""now and again perhaps a badly packed saddle will upset a mule, but it's very seldom.
i wish i could show you our business.
it's beautiful.
why, it took me three years to find out what the men were driving at.
the science of the thing is never to show up against the sky line, because, if you do, you may get fired at.
remember that, young un.
always keep hidden as much as possible, even if you have to go a mile out of your way.
i lead the battery when it comes to that sort of climbing."
""fired at without the chance of running into the people who are firing!"
said the troop-horse, thinking hard.
""i could n't stand that.
i should want to charge -- with dick."
""oh, no, you would n't.
you know that as soon as the guns are in position they'll do all the charging.
that's scientific and neat.
but knives -- pah!"
the baggage-camel had been bobbing his head to and fro for some time past, anxious to get a word in edgewise.
then i heard him say, as he cleared his throat, nervously: "i -- i -- i have fought a little, but not in that climbing way or that running way."
""no.
now you mention it," said billy, "you do n't look as though you were made for climbing or running -- much.
well, how was it, old hay-bales?"
""the proper way," said the camel.
""we all sat down --" "oh, my crupper and breastplate!"
said the troop-horse under his breath.
""sat down!"
""we sat down -- a hundred of us," the camel went on, "in a big square, and the men piled our packs and saddles, outside the square, and they fired over our backs, the men did, on all sides of the square."
""what sort of men?
any men that came along?"
said the troop-horse.
""they teach us in riding school to lie down and let our masters fire across us, but dick cunliffe is the only man i'd trust to do that.
it tickles my girths, and, besides, i ca n't see with my head on the ground."
""what does it matter who fires across you?"
said the camel.
""there are plenty of men and plenty of other camels close by, and a great many clouds of smoke.
i am not frightened then.
i sit still and wait."
""and yet," said billy, "you dream bad dreams and upset the camp at night.
well, well!
before i'd lie down, not to speak of sitting down, and let a man fire across me, my heels and his head would have something to say to each other.
did you ever hear anything so awful as that?"
there was a long silence, and then one of the gun bullocks lifted up his big head and said, "this is very foolish indeed.
there is only one way of fighting."
""oh, go on," said billy.
""please do n't mind me.
i suppose you fellows fight standing on your tails?"
""only one way," said the two together.
-lrb- they must have been twins. -rrb-
""this is that way.
to put all twenty yoke of us to the big gun as soon as two tails trumpets."
-lrb- "two tails" is camp slang for the elephant. -rrb-
""what does two tails trumpet for?"
said the young mule.
""to show that he is not going any nearer to the smoke on the other side.
two tails is a great coward.
then we tug the big gun all together -- heya -- hullah!
heeyah!
hullah!
we do not climb like cats nor run like calves.
we go across the level plain, twenty yoke of us, till we are unyoked again, and we graze while the big guns talk across the plain to some town with mud walls, and pieces of the wall fall out, and the dust goes up as though many cattle were coming home."
""oh!
and you choose that time for grazing?"
said the young mule.
""that time or any other.
eating is always good.
we eat till we are yoked up again and tug the gun back to where two tails is waiting for it.
sometimes there are big guns in the city that speak back, and some of us are killed, and then there is all the more grazing for those that are left.
this is fate.
none the less, two tails is a great coward.
that is the proper way to fight.
we are brothers from hapur.
our father was a sacred bull of shiva.
we have spoken."
""well, i've certainly learned something tonight," said the troop-horse.
""do you gentlemen of the screw-gun battery feel inclined to eat when you are being fired at with big guns, and two tails is behind you?"
""about as much as we feel inclined to sit down and let men sprawl all over us, or run into people with knives.
i never heard such stuff.
a mountain ledge, a well-balanced load, a driver you can trust to let you pick your own way, and i'm your mule.
but -- the other things -- no!"
said billy, with a stamp of his foot.
""of course," said the troop horse, "everyone is not made in the same way, and i can quite see that your family, on your father's side, would fail to understand a great many things."
""never you mind my family on my father's side," said billy angrily, for every mule hates to be reminded that his father was a donkey.
""my father was a southern gentleman, and he could pull down and bite and kick into rags every horse he came across.
remember that, you big brown brumby!"
brumby means wild horse without any breeding.
imagine the feelings of sunol if a car-horse called her a "skate," and you can imagine how the australian horse felt.
i saw the white of his eye glitter in the dark.
""see here, you son of an imported malaga jackass," he said between his teeth, "i'd have you know that i'm related on my mother's side to carbine, winner of the melbourne cup, and where i come from we are n't accustomed to being ridden over roughshod by any parrot-mouthed, pig-headed mule in a pop-gun pea-shooter battery.
are you ready?"
""on your hind legs!"
squealed billy.
they both reared up facing each other, and i was expecting a furious fight, when a gurgly, rumbly voice, called out of the darkness to the right -- "children, what are you fighting about there?
be quiet."
both beasts dropped down with a snort of disgust, for neither horse nor mule can bear to listen to an elephant's voice.
""it's two tails!"
said the troop-horse.
""i ca n't stand him.
a tail at each end is n't fair!"
""my feelings exactly," said billy, crowding into the troop-horse for company.
""we're very alike in some things."
""i suppose we've inherited them from our mothers," said the troop horse.
""it's not worth quarreling about.
hi!
two tails, are you tied up?"
""yes," said two tails, with a laugh all up his trunk.
""i'm picketed for the night.
i've heard what you fellows have been saying.
but do n't be afraid.
i'm not coming over."
the bullocks and the camel said, half aloud, "afraid of two tails -- what nonsense!"
and the bullocks went on, "we are sorry that you heard, but it is true.
two tails, why are you afraid of the guns when they fire?"
""well," said two tails, rubbing one hind leg against the other, exactly like a little boy saying a poem, "i do n't quite know whether you'd understand."
""we do n't, but we have to pull the guns," said the bullocks.
""i know it, and i know you are a good deal braver than you think you are.
but it's different with me.
my battery captain called me a pachydermatous anachronism the other day."
""that's another way of fighting, i suppose?"
said billy, who was recovering his spirits.
""you do n't know what that means, of course, but i do.
it means betwixt and between, and that is just where i am.
i can see inside my head what will happen when a shell bursts, and you bullocks ca n't."
""i can," said the troop-horse.
""at least a little bit.
i try not to think about it."
""i can see more than you, and i do think about it.
i know there's a great deal of me to take care of, and i know that nobody knows how to cure me when i'm sick.
all they can do is to stop my driver's pay till i get well, and i ca n't trust my driver."
""ah!"
said the troop horse.
""that explains it.
i can trust dick."
""you could put a whole regiment of dicks on my back without making me feel any better.
i know just enough to be uncomfortable, and not enough to go on in spite of it."
""we do not understand," said the bullocks.
""i know you do n't.
i'm not talking to you.
you do n't know what blood is."
""we do," said the bullocks.
""it is red stuff that soaks into the ground and smells."
the troop-horse gave a kick and a bound and a snort.
""do n't talk of it," he said.
""i can smell it now, just thinking of it.
it makes me want to run -- when i have n't dick on my back."
""but it is not here," said the camel and the bullocks.
""why are you so stupid?"
""it's vile stuff," said billy.
""i do n't want to run, but i do n't want to talk about it."
""there you are!"
said two tails, waving his tail to explain.
""surely.
yes, we have been here all night," said the bullocks.
two tails stamped his foot till the iron ring on it jingled.
""oh, i'm not talking to you.
you ca n't see inside your heads."
""no.
we see out of our four eyes," said the bullocks.
""we see straight in front of us."
""if i could do that and nothing else, you would n't be needed to pull the big guns at all.
if i was like my captain -- he can see things inside his head before the firing begins, and he shakes all over, but he knows too much to run away -- if i was like him i could pull the guns.
but if i were as wise as all that i should never be here.
i should be a king in the forest, as i used to be, sleeping half the day and bathing when i liked.
i have n't had a good bath for a month."
""that's all very fine," said billy.
""but giving a thing a long name does n't make it any better."
""h'sh!"
said the troop horse.
""i think i understand what two tails means."
""you'll understand better in a minute," said two tails angrily.
""now you just explain to me why you do n't like this!"
he began trumpeting furiously at the top of his trumpet.
""stop that!"
said billy and the troop horse together, and i could hear them stamp and shiver.
an elephant's trumpeting is always nasty, especially on a dark night.
""i sha n't stop," said two tails.
""wo n't you explain that, please?
hhrrmph!
rrrt!
rrrmph!
rrrhha!"
then he stopped suddenly, and i heard a little whimper in the dark, and knew that vixen had found me at last.
she knew as well as i did that if there is one thing in the world the elephant is more afraid of than another it is a little barking dog.
so she stopped to bully two tails in his pickets, and yapped round his big feet.
two tails shuffled and squeaked.
""go away, little dog!"
he said.
""do n't snuff at my ankles, or i'll kick at you.
good little dog -- nice little doggie, then!
go home, you yelping little beast!
oh, why does n't someone take her away?
she'll bite me in a minute."
""seems to me," said billy to the troop horse, "that our friend two tails is afraid of most things.
now, if i had a full meal for every dog i've kicked across the parade-ground i should be as fat as two tails nearly."
i whistled, and vixen ran up to me, muddy all over, and licked my nose, and told me a long tale about hunting for me all through the camp.
i never let her know that i understood beast talk, or she would have taken all sorts of liberties.
so i buttoned her into the breast of my overcoat, and two tails shuffled and stamped and growled to himself.
""extraordinary!
most extraordinary!"
he said.
""it runs in our family.
now, where has that nasty little beast gone to?"
i heard him feeling about with his trunk.
""we all seem to be affected in various ways," he went on, blowing his nose.
""now, you gentlemen were alarmed, i believe, when i trumpeted."
""not alarmed, exactly," said the troop-horse, "but it made me feel as though i had hornets where my saddle ought to be.
do n't begin again."
""i'm frightened of a little dog, and the camel here is frightened by bad dreams in the night."
""it is very lucky for us that we have n't all got to fight in the same way," said the troop-horse.
""what i want to know," said the young mule, who had been quiet for a long time -- "what i want to know is, why we have to fight at all."
""because we're told to," said the troop-horse, with a snort of contempt.
""orders," said billy the mule, and his teeth snapped.
""hukm hai!"
-lrb- it is an order! -rrb-
, said the camel with a gurgle, and two tails and the bullocks repeated, "hukm hai!"
""yes, but who gives the orders?"
said the recruit-mule.
""the man who walks at your head -- or sits on your back -- or holds the nose rope -- or twists your tail," said billy and the troop-horse and the camel and the bullocks one after the other.
""but who gives them the orders?"
""now you want to know too much, young un," said billy, "and that is one way of getting kicked.
all you have to do is to obey the man at your head and ask no questions."
""he's quite right," said two tails.
""i ca n't always obey, because i'm betwixt and between.
but billy's right.
obey the man next to you who gives the order, or you'll stop all the battery, besides getting a thrashing."
the gun-bullocks got up to go.
""morning is coming," they said.
""we will go back to our lines.
it is true that we only see out of our eyes, and we are not very clever.
but still, we are the only people to-night who have not been afraid.
good-night, you brave people."
nobody answered, and the troop-horse said, to change the conversation, "where's that little dog?
a dog means a man somewhere about."
""here i am," yapped vixen, "under the gun tail with my man.
you big, blundering beast of a camel you, you upset our tent.
my man's very angry."
""phew!"
said the bullocks.
""he must be white!"
""of course he is," said vixen.
""do you suppose i'm looked after by a black bullock-driver?"
""huah!
ouach!
ugh!"
said the bullocks.
""let us get away quickly."
they plunged forward in the mud, and managed somehow to run their yoke on the pole of an ammunition wagon, where it jammed.
""now you have done it," said billy calmly.
""do n't struggle.
you're hung up till daylight.
what on earth's the matter?"
the bullocks went off into the long hissing snorts that indian cattle give, and pushed and crowded and slued and stamped and slipped and nearly fell down in the mud, grunting savagely.
""you'll break your necks in a minute," said the troop-horse.
""what's the matter with white men?
i live with'em."
""they -- eat -- us!
pull!"
said the near bullock.
the yoke snapped with a twang, and they lumbered off together.
i never knew before what made indian cattle so scared of englishmen.
we eat beef -- a thing that no cattle-driver touches -- and of course the cattle do not like it.
""may i be flogged with my own pad-chains!
who'd have thought of two big lumps like those losing their heads?"
said billy.
""never mind.
i'm going to look at this man.
most of the white men, i know, have things in their pockets," said the troop-horse.
""i'll leave you, then.
i ca n't say i'm over-fond of'em myself.
besides, white men who have n't a place to sleep in are more than likely to be thieves, and i've a good deal of government property on my back.
come along, young un, and we'll go back to our lines.
good-night, australia!
see you on parade to-morrow, i suppose.
good-night, old hay-bale!
-- try to control your feelings, wo n't you?
good-night, two tails!
if you pass us on the ground tomorrow, do n't trumpet.
it spoils our formation."
billy the mule stumped off with the swaggering limp of an old campaigner, as the troop-horse's head came nuzzling into my breast, and i gave him biscuits, while vixen, who is a most conceited little dog, told him fibs about the scores of horses that she and i kept.
""i'm coming to the parade to-morrow in my dog-cart," she said.
""where will you be?"
""on the left hand of the second squadron.
i set the time for all my troop, little lady," he said politely.
""now i must go back to dick.
my tail's all muddy, and he'll have two hours" hard work dressing me for parade."
the big parade of all the thirty thousand men was held that afternoon, and vixen and i had a good place close to the viceroy and the amir of afghanistan, with high, big black hat of astrakhan wool and the great diamond star in the center.
the first part of the review was all sunshine, and the regiments went by in wave upon wave of legs all moving together, and guns all in a line, till our eyes grew dizzy.
then the cavalry came up, to the beautiful cavalry canter of "bonnie dundee," and vixen cocked her ear where she sat on the dog-cart.
the second squadron of the lancers shot by, and there was the troop-horse, with his tail like spun silk, his head pulled into his breast, one ear forward and one back, setting the time for all his squadron, his legs going as smoothly as waltz music.
then the big guns came by, and i saw two tails and two other elephants harnessed in line to a forty-pounder siege gun, while twenty yoke of oxen walked behind.
the seventh pair had a new yoke, and they looked rather stiff and tired.
last came the screw guns, and billy the mule carried himself as though he commanded all the troops, and his harness was oiled and polished till it winked.
i gave a cheer all by myself for billy the mule, but he never looked right or left.
the rain began to fall again, and for a while it was too misty to see what the troops were doing.
they had made a big half circle across the plain, and were spreading out into a line.
that line grew and grew and grew till it was three-quarters of a mile long from wing to wing -- one solid wall of men, horses, and guns.
then it came on straight toward the viceroy and the amir, and as it got nearer the ground began to shake, like the deck of a steamer when the engines are going fast.
unless you have been there you can not imagine what a frightening effect this steady come-down of troops has on the spectators, even when they know it is only a review.
i looked at the amir.
up till then he had not shown the shadow of a sign of astonishment or anything else.
but now his eyes began to get bigger and bigger, and he picked up the reins on his horse's neck and looked behind him.
for a minute it seemed as though he were going to draw his sword and slash his way out through the english men and women in the carriages at the back.
then the advance stopped dead, the ground stood still, the whole line saluted, and thirty bands began to play all together.
that was the end of the review, and the regiments went off to their camps in the rain, and an infantry band struck up with -- the animals went in two by two, hurrah!
the animals went in two by two, the elephant and the battery mul", and they all got into the ark for to get out of the rain!
then i heard an old grizzled, long-haired central asian chief, who had come down with the amir, asking questions of a native officer.
""now," said he, "in what manner was this wonderful thing done?"
and the officer answered, "an order was given, and they obeyed."
""but are the beasts as wise as the men?"
said the chief.
""they obey, as the men do.
mule, horse, elephant, or bullock, he obeys his driver, and the driver his sergeant, and the sergeant his lieutenant, and the lieutenant his captain, and the captain his major, and the major his colonel, and the colonel his brigadier commanding three regiments, and the brigadier the general, who obeys the viceroy, who is the servant of the empress.
thus it is done."
""would it were so in afghanistan!"
said the chief, "for there we obey only our own wills."
""and for that reason," said the native officer, twirling his mustache, "your amir whom you do not obey must come here and take orders from our viceroy."
parade song of the camp animals elephants of the gun teams we lent to alexander the strength of hercules, the wisdom of our foreheads, the cunning of our knees; we bowed our necks to service: they ne'er were loosed again, -- make way there -- way for the ten-foot teams of the forty-pounder train!
gun bullocks those heroes in their harnesses avoid a cannon-ball, and what they know of powder upsets them one and all; then we come into action and tug the guns again -- make way there -- way for the twenty yoke of the forty-pounder train!
cavalry horses by the brand on my shoulder, the finest of tunes is played by the lancers, hussars, and dragoons, and it's sweeter than "stables" or "water" to me -- the cavalry canter of "bonnie dundee"!
then feed us and break us and handle and groom, and give us good riders and plenty of room, and launch us in column of squadron and see the way of the war-horse to "bonnie dundee"!
screw-gun mules as me and my companions were scrambling up a hill, the path was lost in rolling stones, but we went forward still; for we can wriggle and climb, my lads, and turn up everywhere, oh, it's our delight on a mountain height, with a leg or two to spare!
good luck to every sergeant, then, that lets us pick our road; bad luck to all the driver-men that can not pack a load: for we can wriggle and climb, my lads, and turn up everywhere, oh, it's our delight on a mountain height, with a leg or two to spare!
commissariat camels we have n't a camelty tune of our own to help us trollop along, but every neck is a hair trombone -lrb- rtt-ta-ta-ta!
is a hair trombone! -rrb-
and this our marching-song: ca n't!
do n't!
sha n't!
wo n't!
pass it along the line!
somebody's pack has slid from his back, wish it were only mine!
somebody's load has tipped off in the road -- cheer for a halt and a row!
urrr!
yarrh!
grr!
arrh!
somebody's catching it now!
all the beasts together children of the camp are we, serving each in his degree; children of the yoke and goad, pack and harness, pad and load.
see our line across the plain, like a heel-rope bent again, reaching, writhing, rolling far, sweeping all away to war!
while the men that walk beside, dusty, silent, heavy-eyed, can not tell why we or they march and suffer day by day.
_book_title_: thornton_waldo_burgess___the_adventures_of_old_mr._toad.txt.out
i jimmy skunk is puzzled old mother west wind had just come down from the purple hills and turned loose her children, the merry little breezes, from the big bag in which she had been carrying them.
they were very lively and very merry as they danced and raced across the green meadows in all directions, for it was good to be back there once more.
old mother west wind almost sighed as she watched them for a few minutes.
she felt that she would like to join them.
always the springtime made her feel this way, -- young, mad, carefree, and happy.
but she had work to do.
she had to turn the windmill to pump water for farmer brown's cows, and this was only one of many mills standing idle as they waited for her.
so she puffed her cheeks out and started about her business.
jimmy skunk sat at the top of the hill that overlooks the green meadows and watched her out of sight.
then he started to amble down the lone little path to look for some beetles.
he was ambling along in his lazy way, for you know he never hurries, when he heard some one puffing and blowing behind him.
of course he turned to see who it was, and he was greatly surprised when he discovered old mr. toad.
yes, sir, it was old mr. toad, and he seemed in a great hurry.
he was quite short of breath, but he was hopping along in the most determined way as if he were in a great hurry to get somewhere.
now it is a very unusual thing for mr. toad to hurry, very unusual indeed.
as a rule he hops a few steps and then sits down to think it over.
jimmy had never before seen him hop more than a few steps unless he was trying to get away from danger, from mr. blacksnake for instance.
of course the first thing jimmy thought of was mr. blacksnake, and he looked for him.
but there was no sign of mr. blacksnake nor of any other danger.
then he looked very hard at old mr. toad, and he saw right away that old mr. toad did n't seem to be frightened at all, only very determined, and as if he had something important on his mind.
""well, well," exclaimed jimmy skunk, "whatever has got into those long hind legs of yours to make them work so fast?"
old mr. toad did n't say a word, but simply tried to get past jimmy and keep on his way.
jimmy put out one hand and turned old mr. toad right over on his back, where he kicked and struggled in an effort to get on his feet again, and looked very ridiculous.
""do n't you know that it is n't polite not to speak when you are spoken to?"
demanded jimmy severely, though his eyes twinkled.
""i -- i beg your pardon.
i did n't have any breath to spare," panted old mr. toad.
""you see i'm in a great hurry."
""yes, i see," replied jimmy.
""but do n't you know that it is n't good for the health to hurry so?
now, pray, what are you in such a hurry for?
i do n't see anything to run away from."
""i'm not running away," retorted old mr. toad indignantly.
""i've business to attend to at the smiling pool, and i'm late as it is."
""business!"
exclaimed jimmy as if he could hardly believe his ears.
""what business have you at the smiling pool?"
""that is my own affair," retorted old mr. toad, "but if you really want to know, i'll tell you.
i have a very important part in the spring chorus, and i'm going down there to sing.
i have a very beautiful voice."
that was too much for jimmy skunk.
he just lay down and rolled over and over with laughter.
the idea of any one so homely, almost ugly-looking, as mr. toad thinking that he had a beautiful voice!
""ha, ha, ha!
ho, ho, ho!"
roared jimmy.
when at last he stopped because he could n't laugh any more, he discovered that old mr. toad was on his way again.
hop, hop, hipperty-hop, hop, hop, hipperty-hop went mr. toad.
jimmy watched him, and he confessed that he was puzzled.
ii jimmy skunk consults his friends jimmy skunk scratched his head thoughtfully as he watched old mr. toad go down the lone little path, hop, hop, hipperty-hop, towards the smiling pool.
he certainly was puzzled, was jimmy skunk.
if old mr. toad had told him that he could fly, jimmy would not have been more surprised, or found it harder to believe than that old mr. toad had a beautiful voice.
the truth is, jimmy did n't believe it.
he thought that old mr. toad was trying to fool him.
presently peter rabbit came along.
he found jimmy skunk sitting in a brown study.
he had quite forgotten to look for fat beetles, and when he forgets to do that you may make up your mind that jimmy is doing some hard thinking.
""hello, old striped-coat, what have you got on your mind this fine morning?"
cried peter rabbit.
""him," said jimmy simply, pointing down the lone little path.
peter looked.
""do you mean old mr. toad!"
he asked.
jimmy nodded.
""do you see anything queer about him?"
he asked in his turn.
-lsb- illustration: "do you see anything queer about him?"
he asked. -rsb-
peter stared down the lone little path.
""no," he replied, "except that he seems in a great hurry."
""that's just it," jimmy returned promptly.
""did you ever see him hurry unless he was frightened?"
peter confessed that he never had.
""well, he is n't frightened now, yet just look at him go," retorted jimmy.
""says he has got a beautiful voice, and that he has to take part in the spring chorus at the smiling pool and that he is late."
peter looked very hard at jimmy to see if he was fooling or telling the truth.
then he began to laugh.
""old mr. toad sing!
the very idea!"
he cried.
""he can sing about as much as i can, and that is not at all."
jimmy grinned.
""i think he's crazy, if you ask me," said he.
""and yet he was just as earnest about it as if it were really so.
i think he must have eaten something that has gone to his head.
there's unc" billy possum over there.
let's ask him what he thinks."
so jimmy and peter joined unc" billy, and jimmy told the story about old mr. toad all over again.
unc" billy chuckled and laughed just as they had at the idea of old mr. toad's saying he had a beautiful voice.
but unc" billy has a shrewd little head on his shoulders.
after a few minutes he stopped laughing.
""ah done learn a right smart long time ago that ah don" know all there is to know about mah neighbors," said he.
""we-uns done think of brer toad as ugly-lookin" fo" so long that we-uns may have overlooked something.
ah don" reckon brer toad can sing, but ah "lows that perhaps he thinks he can.
what do you-alls say to we-uns going down to the smiling pool and finding out what he really is up to?"
""the very thing!"
cried peter, kicking up his heels.
you know peter is always ready to go anywhere or do anything that will satisfy his curiosity.
jimmy skunk thought it over for a few minutes, and then he decided that as he had n't anything in particular to do, and as he might find some fat beetles on the way, he would go too.
so off they started after old mr. toad, peter rabbit in the lead as usual, unc" billy possum next, grinning as only he can grin, and in the rear jimmy skunk, taking his time and keeping a sharp eye out for fat beetles.
iii the hunt for old mr. toad now, though old mr. toad was hurrying as fast as ever he could and was quite out of breath, he was n't getting along very fast compared with the way peter rabbit or jimmy skunk or unc" billy possum could cover the ground.
you see he can not make long jumps like his cousin, grandfather frog, but only little short hops.
so peter and jimmy and unc" billy took their time about following him.
they stopped to hunt for fat beetles for jimmy skunk, and at every little patch of sweet clover for peter rabbit to help himself.
once they wasted a lot of time while unc" billy possum hunted for a nest of carol the meadow lark, on the chance that he would find some fresh eggs there.
he did n't find the nest for the very good reason that carol had n't built one yet.
peter was secretly glad.
you know he does n't eat eggs, and he is always sorry for his feathered friends when their eggs are stolen.
half way across the green meadows they stopped to play with the merry little breezes, and because it was very pleasant there, they played longer than they realized.
when at last they started on again, old mr. toad was out of sight.
you see all the time he had kept right on going, hop, hop, hipperty-hop.
""never mind," said peter, "we can catch up with him easy enough, he's such a slow-poke."
but even a slow-poke who keeps right on doing a thing without wasting any time always gets somewhere sooner or later, very often sooner than those who are naturally quicker, but who waste their time.
so it was with old mr. toad.
he kept right on, hop, hop, hipperty-hop, while the others were playing, and so it happened that when at last peter and jimmy and unc" billy reached the smiling pool, they had n't caught another glimpse of old mr. toad.
""do you suppose he hid somewhere, and we passed him?"
asked peter.
unc" billy shook his head.
""ah don" reckon so," said he.
""we-uns done been foolin" away our time, an" brer toad done stole a march on us.
ah reckons we-uns will find him sittin" on the bank here somewhere."
so right away the three separated to look for old mr. toad.
all along the bank of the smiling pool they looked.
they peeped under old leaves and sticks.
they looked in every place where old mr. toad might have hidden, but not a trace of him did they find.
""tra-la-la-lee!
oka-chee!
oka-chee!
happy am i as i can be!"
sang mr. redwing, as he swayed to and fro among the bulrushes.
""say, mr. redwing, have you seen old mr. toad?"
called peter rabbit.
""no," replied mr. redwing.
""is that whom you fellows are looking for?
i wondered if you had lost something.
what do you want with old mr. toad?"
peter explained how they had followed old mr. toad just to see what he really was up to.
""of course we know that he has n't any more voice than i have," declared peter, "but we are curious to know if he really thinks he has, and why he should be in such a hurry to reach the smiling pool.
it looks to us as if the spring has made old mr. toad crazy."
""oh, that's it, is it?"
replied mr. redwing, his bright eyes twinkling.
""some people do n't know as much as they might.
i've been wondering where old mr. toad was, and i'm ever so glad to learn that he has n't forgotten that he has a very important part in our beautiful spring chorus."
then once more mr. redwing began to sing.
iv peter rabbit finds old mr. toad it is n't often that peter rabbit is truly envious, but sometimes in the joyousness of spring he is.
he envies the birds because they can pour out in beautiful song the joy that is in them.
the only way he can express his feelings is by kicking his long heels, jumping about, and such foolish things.
while that gives peter a great deal of satisfaction, it does n't add to the joy of other people as do the songs of the birds, and you know to give joy to others is to add to your own joy.
so there are times when peter wishes he could sing.
he was wishing this very thing now, as he sat on the bank of the smiling pool, listening to the great spring chorus.
""tra-la-la-lee!
oka-chee!
oka-chee!
there's joy in the spring for you and for me."
sang redwing the blackbird from the bulrushes.
from over in the green meadows rose the clear lilt of carol the meadow lark, and among the alders just where the laughing brook ran into the smiling pool a flood of happiness was pouring from the throat of little friend the song sparrow.
winsome bluebird's sweet, almost plaintive, whistle seemed to fairly float in the air, so that it was hard to say just where it did come from, and in the top of the big hickory-tree, welcome robin was singing as if his heart were bursting with joy.
even sammy jay was adding a beautiful, bell-like note instead of his usual harsh scream.
as for the smiling pool, it seemed as if the very water itself sang, for a mighty chorus of clear piping voices from unseen singers rose from all around its banks.
peter knew who those singers were, although look as he would he could see none of them.
they were hylas, the tiny cousins of stickytoes the tree toad.
listening to all these joyous voices, peter forgot for a time what had brought him to the smiling pool.
but jimmy skunk and unc" billy possum did n't forget.
they were still hunting for old mr. toad.
""well, old mr. dreamer, have you found him yet?"
asked jimmy skunk, stealing up behind peter and poking him in the back.
peter came to himself with a start.
""no," said he.
""i was just listening and wishing that i could sing, too.
do n't you ever wish you could sing, jimmy?"
""no," replied jimmy.
""i never waste time wishing i could do things it was never meant i should do.
it's funny where old mr. toad is.
he said that he was coming down here to sing, and redwing the blackbird seemed to be expecting him.
i've looked everywhere i can think of without finding him, but i do n't believe in giving up without another try.
stop your dreaming and come help us hunt."
so peter stopped his dreaming and joined in the search.
now there was one place where neither peter nor jimmy nor unc" billy had thought of looking.
that was in the smiling pool itself.
they just took it for granted that old mr. toad was somewhere on the bank.
presently peter came to a place where the bank was very low and the water was shallow for quite a little distance out in the smiling pool.
from out of that shallow water came the piping voice of a hyla, and peter stopped to stare, trying to see the tiny singer.
suddenly he jumped right up in the air with surprise.
there was a familiar-looking head sticking out of the water.
peter had found old mr. toad!
v old mr. toad's music bag never think that you have learned all there is to know.
that's the surest way of all ignorance to show.
""i've found old mr. toad!"
cried peter rabbit, hurrying after jimmy skunk.
""where?"
demanded jimmy.
""in the water," declared peter.
""he's sitting right over there where the water is shallow, and he did n't notice me at all.
let's get unc" billy, and then creep over to the edge of the smiling pool and watch to see if old mr. toad really does try to sing."
so they hunted up unc" billy possum, and the three stole very softly over to the edge of the smiling pool, where the bank was low and the water shallow.
sure enough, there sat old mr. toad with just his head out of water.
and while they were watching him, something very strange happened.
""what -- what's the matter with him?"
whispered peter, his big eyes looking as if they might pop out of his head.
""if he do n't watch out, he'll blow up and bust!"
exclaimed jimmy.
-lsb- illustration: "if he do n't watch out, he'll blow up and bust!"
exclaimed jimmy. -rsb-
""listen!"
whispered unc" billy possum.
""do mah ol' ears hear right?
"pears to me that that song is coming right from where brer toad is sitting."
it certainly did appear so, and of all the songs that glad spring day there was none sweeter.
indeed there were few as sweet.
the only trouble was the song was so very short.
it lasted only for two or three seconds.
and when it ended, old mr. toad looked quite his natural self again; just as commonplace, almost ugly, as ever.
peter looked at jimmy skunk, jimmy looked at unc" billy possum, and unc" billy looked at peter.
and no one had a word to say.
then all three looked back at old mr. toad.
and even as they looked, his throat began to swell and swell and swell, until it was no wonder that jimmy skunk had thought that he was in danger of blowing up.
and then, when it stopped swelling, there came again those beautiful little notes, so sweet and tremulous that peter actually held his breath to listen.
there was no doubt that old mr. toad was singing just as he had said he was going to, and it was just as true that his song was one of the sweetest if not the sweetest of all the chorus from and around the smiling pool.
it was very hard to believe, but peter and jimmy and unc" billy both saw and heard, and that was enough.
their respect for old mr. toad grew tremendously as they listened.
""how does he do it?"
whispered peter.
""with that bag under his chin, of course," replied jimmy skunk.
""do n't you see it's only when that is swelled out that he sings?
it's a regular music bag.
and i did n't know he had any such bag there at all."
""i wish," said peter rabbit, feeling of his throat, "that i had a music bag like that in my throat."
and then he joined in the laugh of jimmy and unc" billy, but still with something of a look of wistfulness in his eyes.
vi peter discovers something more there are stranger things in the world to-day than ever you dreamed could be.
there's beauty in some of the commonest things if only you've eyes to see.
ever since peter rabbit was a little chap and had first ran away from home, he had known old mr. toad, and never once had peter suspected that he could sing.
also he had thought old mr. toad almost ugly-looking, and he knew that most of his neighbors thought the same way.
they were fond of old mr. toad, for he was always good-natured and attended strictly to his own affairs; but they liked to poke fun at him, and as for there being anything beautiful about him, such a thing never entered their heads.
now that they had discovered that he really has a very beautiful voice, they began to look on him with a great deal more respect.
this was especially so with peter.
he got in the habit of going over to the smiling pool every day, when the way was clear, just to sit on the bank and listen to old mr. toad.
""why did n't you ever tell us before that you could sing?"
he asked one day, as old mr. toad looked up at him from the smiling pool.
""what was the use of wasting my breath?"
demanded old mr. toad.
""you would n't have believed me if i had.
you did n't believe me when i did tell you."
peter knew that this was true, and he could n't find any answer ready.
at last he ventured another question.
""why have n't i ever heard you sing before?"
""you have," replied old mr. toad tartly.
""i sang right in this very place last spring, and the spring before, and the spring before that.
you've sat on that very bank lots of times while i was singing.
the trouble with you, peter, is that you do n't use your eyes or your ears."
peter looked more foolish than ever.
but he ventured another question.
it would n't be peter to let a chance for questions go by.
""have i ever heard you singing up on the meadows or in the old orchard?"
""no," replied old mr. toad, "i only sing in the springtime.
that's the time for singing.
i just have to sing then.
in the summer it is too hot, and in the winter i sleep.
i always return to my old home to sing.
you know i was born here.
all my family gathers here in the spring to sing, so of course i come too."
old mr. toad filled out his queer music bag under his chin and began to sing again.
peter watched him.
now it just happened that old mr. toad was facing him, and so peter looked down straight into his eyes.
he never had looked into mr. toad's eyes before, and now he just stared and stared, for it came over him that those eyes were very beautiful, very beautiful indeed.
""oh!"
he exclaimed, "what beautiful eyes you have, mr. toad!"
""so i've been told before," replied old mr. toad.
""my family always has had beautiful eyes.
there is an old saying that every toad has jewels in his head, but of course he has n't, not real jewels.
it is just the beautiful eyes.
excuse me, peter, but i'm needed in that chorus."
old mr. toad once more swelled out his throat and began to sing.
peter watched him a while longer, then hopped away to the dear old briarpatch, and he was very thoughtful.
""never again will i call anybody homely and ugly until i know all about him," said peter, which was a very wise decision.
do n't you think so?
vii a shadow passes over the smiling pool here's what mr. toad says; heed it well, my dear: "time to watch for clouds is when the sky is clear."
he says that that is the reason that he lives to a good old age, does old mr. toad.
i suppose he means that when the sky is cloudy, everybody is looking for rain and is prepared for it, but when the sun is shining, most people forget that there is such a thing as a storm, so when it comes suddenly very few are prepared for it.
it is the same way with danger and trouble.
so old mr. toad very wisely watches out when there seems to be the least need of it, and he finds it always pays.
it was a beautiful spring evening.
over back of the purple hills to which old mother west wind had taken her children, the merry little breezes, and behind which jolly, round, red mr. sun had gone to bed, there was still a faint, clear light.
but over the green meadows and the smiling pool the shadows had drawn a curtain of soft dusk which in the green forest became black.
the little stars looked down from the sky and twinkled just to see their reflections twinkle back at them from the smiling pool.
and there and all around it was perfect peace.
jerry muskrat swam back and forth, making little silver lines on the surface of the smiling pool and squeaking contentedly, for it was the hour which he loves best.
little friend the song sparrow had tucked his head under his wing and gone to sleep among the alders along the laughing brook and redwing the blackbird had done the same thing among the bulrushes.
all the feathered songsters who had made joyous the bright day had gone to bed.
but this did not mean that the glad spring chorus was silent.
oh, my, no!
no indeed!
the green meadows were silent, and the green forest was silent, but as if to make up for this, the sweet singers of the smiling pool, the hylas and the frogs and old mr. toad, were pouring out their gladness as if they had not been singing most of the departed day.
you see it was the hour they love best of all, the hour which seems to them just made for singing, and they were doing their best to tell old mother nature how they love her, and how glad they were that she had brought back sweet mistress spring to waken them from their long sleep.
it was so peaceful and beautiful there that it did n't seem possible that danger of any kind could be lurking near.
but old mr. toad, swelling out that queer music bag in his throat and singing with all his might, never once forgot that wise saying of his, and so he was the first to see what looked like nothing so much as a little detached bit of the blackness of the green forest floating out towards the smiling pool.
instantly he stopped singing.
now that was a signal.
when he stopped singing, his nearest neighbor stopped singing, then the next one and the next, and in a minute there was n't a sound from the smiling pool save the squeak of jerry muskrat hidden among the bulrushes.
that great chorus stopped as abruptly as the electric lights go out when you press a button.
back and forth over the smiling pool, this way and that way, floated the shadow, but there was no sign of any living thing in the smiling pool.
after awhile the shadow floated away over the green meadows without a sound.
""hooty the owl did n't get one of us that time," said old mr. toad to his nearest neighbor with a chuckle of satisfaction.
then he swelled out his music bag and began to sing again.
and at once, as abruptly as it had stopped, the great chorus began again as joyous as before, for nothing had happened to bring sadness as might have but for the watchfulness of old mr. toad.
viii old mr. toad's babies the smiling pool's a nursery where all the sunny day a thousand funny babies are taught while at their play.
really the smiling pool is a sort of kindergarten, one of the most interesting kindergartens in the world.
little joe otter's children learn to swim there.
so do jerry muskrat's babies and those of billy mink, the trout and minnow babies, and a lot more.
and there you will find the children and grandchildren of grandfather frog and old mr. toad.
peter rabbit had known for a long time about the frog babies, but though he knew that old mr. toad was own cousin to grandfather frog, he had n't known anything about toad babies, except that at a certain time in the year he was forever running across tiny toads, especially on rainy days, and each little toad was just like old mr. toad, except for his size.
peter had heard it said that toads rain down from the sky, and sometimes it seems as if this must be so.
of course he knew it could n't be, but it puzzled him a great deal.
there would n't be a toad in sight.
then it would begin to rain, and right away there would be so many tiny toads that it was hard work to jump without stepping on some.
he remembered this as he went to pay his daily call on old mr. toad in the smiling pool and listen to his sweet song.
he had n't seen any little toads this year, but he remembered his experiences with them in other years, and he meant to ask about them.
old mr. toad was sitting in his usual place, but he was n't singing.
he was staring at something in the water.
when peter said "good morning," old mr. toad did n't seem to hear him.
he was too much interested in what he was watching.
peter stared down into the water to see what was interesting old mr. toad so much, but he saw nothing but a lot of wriggling tadpoles.
""what are you staring at so, mr. sobersides?"
asked peter, speaking a little louder than before.
old mr. toad turned and looked at peter, and there was a look of great pride in his face.
""i'm just watching my babies.
are n't they lovely?"
said he.
peter stared harder than ever, but he could n't see anything that looked like a baby toad.
""where are they?"
asked he.
""i do n't see any babies but those of grandfather frog, and if you ask me, i always did think tadpoles about the homeliest things in th" world."
old mr. toad grew indignant.
""those are not grandfather frog's children; they're mine!"
he sputtered.
""and i'll have you know that they are the most beautiful babies in th" world!"
peter drew a hand across his mouth to hide a smile.
""i beg your pardon, mr. toad," said he.
""i -- i thought all tadpoles were frog babies.
they all look alike to me."
""well, they're not," declared old mr. toad.
""how any one can mistake my babies for their cousins i can not understand.
now mine are beautiful, while --" "chug-arum!"
interrupted the great deep voice of grandfather frog.
""what are you talking about?
why, your babies are no more to be compared with my babies for real beauty than nothing at all!
i'll leave it to peter if they are."
but peter wisely held his tongue.
to tell the truth, he could n't see beauty in any of them.
to him they were all just wriggling pollywogs.
they were more interesting now, because he had found out that some of them were toads and some were frogs, and he had n't known before that baby toads begin life as tadpoles, but he had no intention of being drawn into the dispute now waxing furious between grandfather frog and old mr. toad.
ix the smiling pool kindergarten play a little, learn a little, grow a little too; that's what every pollywoggy tries his best to do.
of course.
that's what a kindergarten is for.
and you may be sure that the babies of grandfather frog and old mr. toad and stickytoes the tree toad did all of these things in the kindergarten of the smiling pool.
they looked considerably alike, did these little cousins, for they were all pollywogs to begin with.
peter rabbit came over every day to watch them.
always he had thought pollywogs just homely, wriggling things, not the least bit interesting, but since he had discovered how proud of them were grandfather frog and old mr. toad, he had begun to wonder about them and then to watch them.
""there's one thing about them, and that is they are not in danger the way any babies are," said peter, talking to himself as is his way when there is no one else to talk to.
just then a funny little black pollywog wriggled into sight, and while peter was watching him, a stout-jawed water-beetle suddenly rushed from among the water grass, seized the pollywog by his tail, and dragged him down.
peter stared.
could it be that that ugly-looking bug was as dangerous an enemy to the baby toad as reddy fox is to a baby rabbit?
he began to suspect so, and a little later he knew so, for there was that same little pollywog trying hard to swim and making bad work of it, because he had lost half of his long tail.
that set peter to watching sharper than ever, and presently he discovered that pollywogs have to keep their eyes open quite as much as do baby rabbits, if they would live to grow up.
there were several kinds of queer, ugly-looking bugs forever darting out at the wriggling pollywogs.
hungry-looking fish lay in wait for them, and longlegs the blue heron seemed to have a special liking for them.
but the pollywogs were spry, and seemed to have learned to watch out.
they seemed to peter to spend all their time swimming and eating and growing.
they grew so fast that it seemed to him that he could almost see them grow.
and just imagine how surprised peter was to discover one day that that very pollywog which he had seen lose his tail had grown a new one.
that puzzled peter more than anything he had seen in a long time.
""why, i could n't do that!"
he exclaimed right out loud.
""do what?"
demanded jerry muskrat, who happened along just then.
""why, grow a new tail like that pollywog," replied peter, and told jerry all that he had seen.
jerry laughed.
""you'll see queerer things than that if you watch those pollywogs long enough," said he.
""they are a queer lot of babies, and very interesting to watch if you've got the time for it.
i have n't.
this smiling pool is a great kindergarten, and there's something happening here every minute.
there's no place like it."
""are those great big fat pollywogs grandfather frog's children, or old mr. toad's?"
asked peter.
""grandfather frog's last year's children," replied jerry.
""they'll grow into real frogs this summer, if nothing happens to them."
""where are old mr. toad's last year's children?"
asked peter.
""do n't ask me," replied jerry.
""they hopped away last summer.
never saw anything like the way those toad youngsters grow.
those toad pollywogs you see now will turn into real toads, and be leaving the smiling pool in a few weeks.
people think old mr. toad is slow, but there is nothing slow about his children.
look at that little fellow over there; he's begun to grow legs already."
peter looked, and sure enough there was a pollywog with a pair of legs sprouting out.
they were his fore legs, and they certainly did make him look funny.
and only a few days before there had n't been a sign of legs.
""my gracious!"
exclaimed peter.
""what a funny sight!
i thought my babies grew fast, but these beat them."
x the little toads start out to see the world the world is a wonderful great big place and in it the young must roam to learn what their elders have long since learned -- there's never a place like home.
it had been some time since peter rabbit had visited the smiling pool to watch the pollywogs.
but one cloudy morning he happened to think of them, and decided that he would run over there and see how they were getting along.
so off he started, lipperty-lipperty-lip.
he wondered if those pollywog children of old mr. toad would be much changed.
the last time he saw them some of them had just begun to grow legs, although they still had long tails.
he had almost reached the smiling pool when great big drops of rain began to splash down.
and with those first raindrops something funny happened.
anyway, it seemed funny to peter.
right away he was surrounded by tiny little toads.
everywhere he looked he saw toads, tiny little toads just like old mr. toad, only so tiny that one could have sat comfortably on a ten-cent piece and still had plenty of room.
peter's big eyes grew round with surprise as he stared.
where had they all come from so suddenly?
a minute before he had n't seen a single one, and now he could hardly move without stepping on one.
it seemed, it really seemed, as if each raindrop turned into a tiny toad the instant it struck the ground.
of course peter knew that that could n't be, but it was very puzzling.
and all those little toads were bravely hopping along as if they were bound for some particular place.
peter watched them for a few minutes, then he once more started for the smiling pool.
on the very bank whom should he meet but old mr. toad.
he looked rather thin, and his back was to the smiling pool.
yes, sir, he was hopping away from the smiling pool where he had been all the spring, singing in the great chorus.
peter was almost as surprised to see him as he had been to see the little toads, but just then he was most interested in those little toads.
""good morning, old mr. toad," said peter in his most polite manner.
""can you tell me where all these little toads came from?"
-lsb- illustration: "can you tell me where all these little toads came from?" -rsb-
""certainly," replied old mr. toad.
""they came from the smiling pool, of course.
where did you suppose they came from?"
""i -- i did n't know.
there was n't one to be seen, and then it began to rain, and right away they were everywhere.
it -- it almost seemed as if they had rained down out of the sky."
old mr. toad chuckled.
""they've got good sense, if i must say it about my own children," said he.
""they know that wet weather is the only weather for toads to travel in.
they left the smiling pool in the night while it was damp and comfortable, and then, when the sun came up, they hid, like sensible children, under anything they could find, sticks, stones, pieces of bark, grass.
the minute this shower came up, they knew it was good traveling weather and out they popped."
""but what did they leave the smiling pool for?"
peter asked.
""to see the great world," replied old mr. toad.
""foolish, very foolish of them, but they would do it.
i did the same thing myself when i was their age.
could n't stop me any more than i could stop them.
they do n't know when they're well off, but young folks never do.
fine weather, is n't it?"
xi old mr. toad's queer tongue old mother nature doth provide for all her children, large or small.
her wisdom foresees all their needs and makes provision for them all.
if you do n't believe it, just you go ask old mr. toad, as peter rabbit did, how such a slow-moving fellow as he is can catch enough bugs and insects to keep him alive.
perhaps you'll learn something just as peter did.
peter and old mr. toad sat in the rain watching the tiny toads, who, you know, were mr. toad's children, leaving their kindergarten in the smiling pool and starting out to see the great world.
when the last little toad had passed them, old mr. toad suddenly remembered that he was hungry, very hungry indeed.
""did n't have time to eat much while i was in the smiling pool," he explained.
""could n't eat and sing too, and while i was down there, i was supposed to sing.
now that it is time to quit singing, i begin to realize that i've got a stomach to look out for as well as a voice.
see that bug over there on that leaf?
watch him."
peter looked, and sure enough there was a fat bug crawling along on an old leaf.
he was about two inches from old mr. toad, and he was crawling very fast.
and right while peter was looking at him he disappeared.
peter turned to look at old mr. toad.
he had n't budged.
he was sitting exactly where he had been sitting all the time, but he was smacking his lips, and there was a twinkle of satisfaction in his eyes.
peter opened his eyes very wide.
""wha -- what --" he began.
""nice bug," interrupted old mr. toad.
""nicest bug i've eaten for a longtime."
""but i did n't see you catch him!"
protested peter, looking at old mr. toad as if he suspected him of joking.
""anything wrong with your eyes?"
inquired old mr. toad.
""no," replied peter just a wee bit crossly.
""my eyes are just as good as ever."
""then watch me catch that fly over yonder," said old mr. toad.
he hopped towards a fly which had lighted on a blade of grass just ahead.
about two inches from it he stopped, and so far as peter could see, he sat perfectly still.
but the fly disappeared, and it was n't because it flew away, either.
peter was sure of that.
as he told mrs. peter about it afterwards, "it was there, and then it was n't, and that was all there was to it."
old mr. toad chuckled.
""did n't you see that one go, peter?"
he asked.
peter shook his head.
""i wish you would stop fooling me," said peter.
""the joke is on me, but now you've had your laugh at my expense, i wish you would tell me how you do it.
please, mr. toad."
now when peter said please that way, of course old mr. toad could n't resist him.
nobody could.
""here comes an ant this way.
now you watch my mouth instead of the ant and see what happens," said old mr. toad.
peter looked and saw a big black ant coming.
then he kept his eyes on old mr. toad's mouth.
suddenly there was a little flash of red from it, so tiny and so quick that peter could n't be absolutely sure that he saw it.
but when he looked for the ant, it was nowhere to be seen.
peter looked at old mr. toad very hard.
""do you mean to tell me, mr. toad, that you've got a tongue long enough to reach way over to where that ant was?"
he asked.
old mr. toad chuckled again.
with every insect swallowed he felt better natured.
""you've guessed it, peter," said he.
""handy tongue, is n't it?"
""i think it's a very queer tongue," retorted peter, "and i do n't understand it at all.
if it's so long as all that, where do you keep it when it is n't in use?
i should think you'd have to swallow it to get it out of the way, or else leave it hanging out of your mouth."
""ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!"
laughed old mr. toad.
""my tongue never is in the way, and it's the handiest tongue in the world.
i'll show it to you."
xii old mr. toad shows his tongue to show one's tongue, as you well know, is not considered nice to do; but if it were like mr. toad's i'd want to show it -- would n't you?
i'm quite sure you would.
you see, if it were like old mr. toad's, it would be such a wonderful tongue that i suspect you would want everybody to see it.
old mr. toad thinks his tongue the most satisfactory tongue in the world.
in fact, he is quite sure that without it he could n't get along at all, and i do n't know as he could.
and yet very few of his neighbors know anything about that tongue and how different it is from most other tongues.
peter rabbit did n't until old mr. toad showed him after peter had puzzled and puzzled over the mysterious way in which bugs and flies disappeared whenever they happened to come within two inches or less of old mr. toad.
what peter could n't understand was what old mr. toad did with a tongue that would reach two inches beyond his mouth.
he said as much.
""i'll show you my tongue, and then you'll wish you had one just like it," said old mr. toad, with a twinkle in his eyes.
he opened his big mouth and slowly ran his tongue out its full length.
""why!
why-ee!"
exclaimed peter.
""it's fastened at the wrong end!"
""no such thing!"
replied old mr. toad indignantly.
""if it was fastened at the other end, how could i run it out so far?"
""but mine and all other tongues that i ever have seen are fastened way down in the throat," protested peter.
""yours is fastened at the other end, way in the very front of your mouth.
i never heard of such a thing."
""there are a great many things you have never heard of, peter rabbit," replied old mr. toad drily.
""mine is the right way to have a tongue.
because it is fastened way up in the front of my mouth that way, i can use the whole of it.
you see it goes out its full length.
then, when i draw it in with a bug on the end of it, i just turn it over so that the end that was out goes way back in my throat and takes the bug with it to just the right place to swallow."
peter thought this over for a few minutes before he ventured another question.
""i begin to understand," said he, "but how do you hold on to the bug with your tongue?"
""my tongue is sticky, of course, mr. stupid," replied old mr. toad, looking very much disgusted.
""just let me touch a bug with it, and he's mine every time."
peter thought this over.
then he felt of his own tongue.
""mine is n't sticky," said he very innocently.
old mr. toad laughed right out.
""perhaps if it was, you could n't ask so many questions," said he.
""now watch me catch that fly."
his funny little tongue darted out, and the fly was gone.
-lsb- illustration: his funny little tongue darted out, and the fly was gone. -rsb-
""it certainly is very handy," said peter politely.
""i think we are going to have more rain, and i'd better be getting back to the dear old briarpatch.
very much obliged to you, mr. toad.
i think you are very wonderful."
""not at all," replied old mr. toad.
""i've simply got the things i need in order to live, just as you have the things you need.
i could n't get along with your kind of a tongue, but no more could you get along with mine.
if you live long enough, you will learn that old mother nature makes no mistakes.
she gives each of us what we need, and each one has different needs."
xiii peter rabbit is impolite peter rabbit could n't get old mr. toad off his mind.
he had discovered so many interesting things about old mr. toad that he was almost on the point of believing him to be the most interesting of all his neighbors.
and his respect for old mr. toad had become very great indeed.
of course.
who would n't respect any one with such beautiful eyes and such a sweet voice and such a wonderful tongue?
yet at the same time peter felt very foolish whenever he remembered that all his life he had been acquainted with old mr. toad without really knowing him at all.
there was one comforting thought, and that was that most of his neighbors were just as ignorant regarding old mr. toad as peter had been.
""funny," mused peter, "how we can live right beside people all our lives and not really know them at all.
i suppose that is why we should never judge people hastily.
i believe i will go hunt up old mr. toad and see if i can find out anything more."
off started peter, lipperty-lipperty-lip.
he did n't know just where to go, now that old mr. toad had left the smiling pool, but he had an idea that he would not be far from their meeting place of the day before, when old mr. toad had explained about his wonderful tongue.
but when he got there, peter found no trace of old mr. toad.
you see, it had rained the day before, and that is just the kind of weather that a toad likes best for traveling.
peter ought to have thought of that, but he did n't.
he hunted for awhile and finally gave it up and started up the crooked little path with the idea of running over for a call on johnny chuck in the old orchard.
jolly, round, bright mr. sun was shining his brightest, and peter soon forgot all about old mr. toad.
he scampered along up the crooked little path, thinking of nothing in particular but how good it was to be alive, and occasionally kicking up his heels for pure joy.
he had just done this when his ears caught the sound of a queer noise a little to one side of the crooked little path.
instantly peter stopped and sat up to listen.
there it was again, and it seemed to come from under an old piece of board.
it was just a little, rustling sound, hardly to be heard.
""there's some one under that old board," thought peter, and peeped under.
all he could see was that there was something moving.
instantly peter was all curiosity.
whoever was there was not very big.
he was sure of that.
of course that meant that he had nothing to fear.
so what do you think peter did?
why, he just pulled that old board over.
and when he did that, he saw, whom do you think?
why, old mr. toad, to be sure.
but such a sight as old mr. toad was!
peter just stared.
for a full minute he could n't find his voice.
old mr. toad was changing his clothes!
yes, sir, that is just what old mr. toad was doing.
he was taking off his old suit, and under it was a brand new one.
but such a time as he was having!
he was opening and shutting his big mouth, and drawing his hind legs under him, and rubbing them against his body.
then peter saw a strange thing.
he saw that old mr. toad's old suit had split in several places, and he was getting it off by sucking it into his mouth!
in a few minutes his hind legs were free of the old suit, and little by little it began to be pulled free from his body.
all the time old mr. toad was working very hard to suck it at the corners of his big mouth.
he glared angrily at peter, but he could n't say anything because his mouth was too full.
he looked so funny that peter just threw himself on the ground and rolled over and over with laughter.
this made old mr. toad glare more angrily than ever, but he could n't say anything, not a word.
when he had got his hands free by pulling the sleeves of his old coat off inside out, he used his hands to pull the last of it over his head.
then he gulped very hard two or three times to swallow his old suit, and when the last of it had disappeared, he found his voice.
""do n't you know that it is the most impolite thing in the world to look at people when they are changing their clothes?"
he sputtered.
xiv old mr. toad disappears admit your fault when you've done wrong, and do n't postpone it over long.
peter rabbit did n't blame old mr. toad a bit for being indignant because peter had watched him change his suit.
it was n't a nice thing to do.
old mr. toad had looked very funny while he was struggling out of his old suit, and peter just could n't help laughing at him.
but he realized that he had been very impolite, and he very meekly told old mr. toad so.
""you see, it was this way," explained peter.
""i heard something under that old board, and i just naturally turned it over to find out what was there."
""hump!"
grunted old mr. toad.
""i did n't have the least idea that you were there," continued peter.
""when i found who it was, and what you were doing, i could n't help watching because it was so interesting, and i could n't help laughing because you really did look so funny.
but i'm sorry, mr. toad.
truly i am.
i did n't mean to be so impolite.
i promise never to do it again.
i do n't suppose, mr. toad, that it seems at all wonderful to you that you can change your suit that way, but it does to me.
i had heard that you swallowed your old suits, but i never half believed it.
now i know it is so and just how you do it, and i feel as if i had learned something worth knowing.
do you know, i think you are one of the most interesting and wonderful of all my neighbors, and i'll never laugh at or tease you again, mr. toad."
""hump!"
grunted old mr. toad again, but it was very clear that he was a little flattered by peter's interest in him and was rapidly recovering his good nature.
""there is one thing i do n't understand yet," said peter, "and that is where you go to to sleep all winter.
do you go down into the mud at the bottom of the smiling pool the way grandfather frog does?"
""certainly not!"
retorted old mr. toad.
""use your common sense, peter rabbit.
if i had spent the winter in the smiling pool, do you suppose i would have left it to come way up here and then have turned right around and gone back there to sing?
i'm not so fond of long journeys as all that."
""that's so."
peter looked foolish.
""i did n't think of that when i spoke."
""the trouble with you, and with a lot of other people, is that you speak first and do your thinking afterward, when you do any thinking at all," grunted old mr. toad.
""now if i wanted to, i could disappear right here."
""you mean that you would hide under that old board just as you did before," said peter, with a very wise look.
""nothing of the sort!"
snapped old mr. toad.
""i could disappear and not go near that old board, not a step nearer than i am now."
peter looked in all directions carefully, but not a thing could he see under which old mr. toad could possibly hide except the old board, and he had said he would n't hide under that.
""i do n't like to doubt your word, mr. toad," said he, "but you'll have to show me before i can believe that."
old mr. toad's eyes twinkled.
here was a chance to get even with peter for watching him change his suit.
""if you'll turn your back to me and look straight down the crooked little path for five minutes, i'll disappear," said he.
""more than that, i give you my word of honor that i will not hop three feet from where i am sitting."
""all right," replied peter promptly, turning his back to old mr. toad.
""i'll look down the crooked little path for five minutes and promise not to peek."
so peter sat and gazed straight down the crooked little path.
it was a great temptation to roll his eyes back and peep behind him, but he had given his word that he would n't, and he did n't.
when he thought the five minutes were up, he turned around.
old mr. toad was nowhere to be seen.
peter looked hastily this way and that way, but there was not a sign of old mr. toad.
he had disappeared as completely as if he never had been there.
xv old mr. toad gives peter a scare if you play pranks on other folks you may be sure that they will take the first chance that they get a joke on you to play.
old mr. toad was getting even with peter for laughing at him.
while peter's back had been turned, old mr. toad had disappeared.
it was too much for peter.
look as he would, he could n't see so much as a chip under which old mr. toad might have hidden, excepting the old board, and old mr. toad had given his word of honor that he would n't hide under that.
nevertheless, peter hopped over to it and turned it over again, because he could n't think of any other place to look.
of course, old mr. toad was n't there.
of course not.
he had given his word that he would n't hide there, and he always lives up to his word.
peter should have known better than to have looked there.
old mr. toad had also said that he would not go three feet from the spot where he was sitting at the time, so peter should have known better than to have raced up the crooked little path as he did.
but if old mr. toad had nothing to hide under, of course he must have hopped away, reasoned peter.
he could n't hop far in five minutes, that was sure, and so peter ran this way and that way a great deal farther than it would have been possible for old mr. toad to have gone.
but it was a wholly useless search, and presently peter returned and sat down on the very spot where he had last seen old mr. toad.
peter never had felt more foolish in all his life.
he began to think that old mr. toad must be bewitched and had some strange power of making himself invisible.
for a long time peter sat perfectly still, trying to puzzle out how old mr. toad had disappeared, but the more he puzzled over it, the more impossible it seemed.
and yet old mr. toad had disappeared.
suddenly peter gave a frightened scream and jumped higher than he ever had jumped before in all his life.
a voice, the voice of old mr. toad himself, had said, "well, now are you satisfied?"
and that voice had come from right under peter!
do you wonder that he was frightened?
when he turned to look, there sat old mr. toad right where he himself had been sitting a moment before.
peter rubbed his eyes and stared very foolishly.
""wh-wh-where did you come from?"
he stammered at last.
old mr. toad grinned.
""i'll show you," said he.
and right while peter was looking at him, he began to sink down into the ground until only the top of his head could be seen.
then that disappeared.
old mr. toad had gone down, and the sand had fallen right back over him.
peter just had to rub his eyes again.
he had to!
then, to make sure, he began to dig away the sand where old mr. toad had been sitting.
in a minute he felt old mr. toad, who at once came out again.
old mr. toad's beautiful eyes twinkled more than ever.
""i guess we are even now, peter," said he.
peter nodded.
""more than that, mr. toad.
i think you have a little the best of it," he replied.
""now wo n't you tell me how you did it?"
old mr. toad held up one of his stout hind feet, and on it was a kind of spur.
""there's another just like that on the other foot," said he, "and i use them to dig with.
you go into a hole headfirst, but i go in the other way.
i make my hole in soft earth and back into it at the same time, this way."
he began to work his stout hind feet, and as he kicked the earth out, he backed in at the same time.
when he was deep enough, the earth just fell back over him, for you see it was very loose and not packed down at all.
when he once more reappeared, peter thanked him.
then he asked one more question.
""is that the way you go into winter quarters?"
old mr. toad nodded.
""and it's the way i escape from my enemies."
xvi jimmy skunk is surprised jimmy skunk ambled along the crooked little path down the hill.
he did n't hurry because jimmy does n't believe in hurrying.
the only time he ever hurries is when he sees a fat beetle trying to get out of sight.
then jimmy does hurry.
but just now he did n't see any fat beetles, although he was looking for them.
so he just ambled along as if he had all the time in the world, as indeed he had.
he was feeling very good-natured, was jimmy skunk.
and why should n't he?
there was everything to make him feel good-natured.
summer had arrived to stay.
on every side he heard glad voices.
bumble the bee was humming a song.
best of all, jimmy had found three beetles that very morning, and he knew that there were more if he could find them.
so why should n't he feel good?
jimmy had laughed at peter rabbit for being so anxious for summer to arrive, but he was just as glad as peter that she had come, although he would n't have said so for the world.
his sharp little eyes twinkled as he ambled along, and there was n't much that they missed.
as he walked he talked, quite to himself of course, because there was nobody near to hear, and this is what he was saying: "beetle, beetle, smooth and smug, you are nothing but a bug.
bugs were made for skunks to eat, so come out from your retreat.
""hello!
there's a nice big piece of bark over there that looks as if it ought to have a dozen fat beetles under it.
it's great fun to pull over pieces of bark and see fat beetles run all ways at once.
i'll just have to see what is under that piece."
jimmy tiptoed softly over to the big piece of bark, and then as he made ready to turn it over, he began again that foolish little verse.
""beetle, beetle, smooth and smug, you are nothing but a bug."
as he said the last word, he suddenly pulled the piece of bark over.
""who's a bug?"
asked a funny voice, and it sounded rather cross.
jimmy skunk nearly tumbled over backward in surprise, and for a minute he could n't find his tongue.
there, instead of the fat beetles he had been so sure of, sat old mr. toad, and he did n't look at all pleased.
""who's a bug?"
he repeated.
instead of answering, jimmy skunk began to laugh.
""who's a bug?"
demanded old mr. toad, more crossly than before.
""there is n't any bug, mr. toad, and i beg your pardon," replied jimmy, remembering his politeness.
""i just thought there was.
you see, i did n't know you were under that piece of bark.
i hope you will excuse me, mr. toad.
have you seen any fat beetles this morning?"
""no," said old mr. toad grumpily, and yawned and rubbed his eyes.
""why," exclaimed jimmy skunk, "i believe you have just waked up!"
""what if i have?"
demanded old mr. toad.
""oh, nothing, nothing at all, mr. toad," replied jimmy skunk, "only you are the second one i've met this morning who had just waked up."
""who was the other?"
asked old mr. toad.
""mr. blacksnake," replied jimmy.
""he inquired for you."
old mr. toad turned quite pale.
""i -- i think i'll be moving along," said he.
xvii old mr. toad's mistake if is a very little word to look at, but the biggest word you have ever seen does n't begin to have so much meaning as little "if."
if jimmy skunk had n't ambled down the crooked little path just when he did; if he had n't been looking for fat beetles; if he had n't seen that big piece of bark at one side and decided to pull it over; if it had n't been for all these "ifs," why old mr. toad would n't have made the mistake he did, and you would n't have had this story.
but jimmy skunk did amble down the crooked little path, he did look for beetles, and he did pull over that big piece of bark.
and when he had pulled it over, he found old mr. toad there.
old mr. toad had crept under that piece of bark because he wanted to take a nap.
but when jimmy skunk told him that he had seen mr. blacksnake that very morning, and that mr. blacksnake had asked after old mr. toad, the very last bit of sleepiness left old mr. toad.
yes, sir, he was wide awake right away.
you see, he knew right away why mr. blacksnake had asked after him.
he knew that mr. blacksnake has a fondness for toads.
he turned quite pale when he heard that mr. blacksnake had asked after him, and right then he made his mistake.
he was in such a hurry to get away from that neighborhood that he forgot to ask jimmy skunk just where he had seen mr. blacksnake.
he hardly waited long enough to say good-by to jimmy skunk, but started off as fast as he could go.
now it just happened that old mr. toad started up the crooked little path, and it just happened that mr. blacksnake was coming down the crooked little path.
now when people are very much afraid, they almost always seem to think that danger is behind instead of in front of them.
it was so with old mr. toad.
instead of watching out in front as he hopped along, he kept watching over his shoulder, and that was his second mistake.
he was so sure that mr. blacksnake was somewhere behind him that he did n't look to see where he was going, and you know that people who do n't look to see where they are going are almost sure to go headfirst right into trouble.
old mr. toad went hopping up the crooked little path as fast as he could, which was n't very fast, because he never can hop very fast.
and all the time he kept looking behind for mr. blacksnake.
presently he came to a turn in the crooked little path, and as he hurried around it, he almost ran into mr. blacksnake himself.
it was a question which was more surprised.
for just a wee second they stared at each other.
then mr. blacksnake's eyes began to sparkle.
""good morning, mr. toad.
is n't this a beautiful morning?
i was just thinking about you," said he.
but poor old mr. toad did n't say good morning.
he did n't say anything.
he could n't, because he was too scared.
he just gave a frightened little squeal, turned around, and started down the crooked little path twice as fast as he had come up.
mr. blacksnake grinned and started after him, not very fast because he knew that he would n't have to run very fast to catch old mr. toad, and he thought the exercise would do him good.
and this is how it happened that summer morning that jolly, bright mr. sun, looking down from the blue, blue sky and smiling to see how happy everybody seemed, suddenly discovered that there was one of the little meadow people who was n't happy, but instead was terribly, terribly unhappy.
it was old mr. toad hopping down the crooked little path for his life, while after him, and getting nearer and nearer, glided mr. blacksnake.
xviii jimmy skunk is just in time jimmy skunk ambled slowly along, chuckling as he thought of what a hurry mr. toad had been in, when he had heard that mr. blacksnake had asked after him.
it had been funny, very funny indeed, to see mr. toad try to hurry.
suddenly jimmy stopped chuckling.
then he stopped ambling along the crooked little path.
he turned around and looked back, and as he did so he scratched his head thoughtfully.
he had just happened to think that old mr. toad had gone up the crooked little path, and it was up the crooked little path that mr. blacksnake had shown himself that morning.
""if he's still up there," thought jimmy, "old mr. toad is hopping right straight into the very worst kind of trouble.
how stupid of him not to have asked me where mr. blacksnake was!
well, it's none of my business.
i guess i'll go on."
but he had gone on down the crooked little path only a few steps when he stopped again.
you see, jimmy is really a very kind-hearted little fellow, and somehow he did n't like to think of what might happen to old mr. toad.
""i hate to go way back there," he grumbled, for you know he is naturally rather lazy.
""still, the green meadows would n't be quite the same without old mr. toad.
i should miss him if anything happened to him.
i suppose it would be partly my fault, too, for if i had n't pulled over that piece of bark, he probably would have stayed there the rest of the day and been safe."
""maybe he wo n't meet mr. blacksnake," said a little voice inside of jimmy.
""and maybe he will," said jimmy right out loud.
and with that, he started back up the crooked little path, and strange to say jimmy hurried.
he had just reached a turn in the crooked little path when who should run right plump into him but poor old mr. toad.
he gave a frightened squeal and fell right over on his back, and kicked foolishly as he tried to get on his feet again.
but he was all out of breath, and so frightened and tired that all he could do was to kick and kick.
he had n't seen jimmy at all, for he had been looking behind him, and he did n't even know who it was he had run into.
right behind him came mr. blacksnake.
of course he saw jimmy, and he stopped short and hissed angrily.
""what were you going to do to mr. toad?"
demanded jimmy.
""none of your business!"
hissed mr. blacksnake.
""get out of my way, or you'll be sorry."
jimmy skunk just laughed and stepped in front of poor old mr. toad.
mr. blacksnake coiled himself up in the path and darted his tongue out at jimmy in the most impudent way.
then he tried to make himself look very fierce.
then he jumped straight at jimmy skunk with his mouth wide open, but he took great care not to jump quite far enough to reach jimmy.
you see, he was just trying to scare jimmy.
but jimmy did n't scare.
he knows all about mr. blacksnake and that really he is a coward.
so he suddenly gritted his teeth in a way not at all pleasant to hear and started for mr. blacksnake.
mr. blacksnake did n't wait.
no, sir, he did n't wait.
he suddenly turned and glided back up the crooked little path, hissing angrily.
jimmy followed him a little way, and then he went back to old mr. toad.
""oh," panted mr. toad, "you came just in time!
i could n't have hopped another hop."
""i guess i did," replied jimmy.
""now you get your breath and come along with me."
and old mr. toad did.
xix old mr. toad gets his stomach full pray do not tip your nose in scorn at things which others eat, for things to you not good at all to others are most sweet.
there are ants, for instance.
you would n't want to eat them even if you were dreadfully hungry.
but old mr. toad and buster bear think there is nothing much nicer.
now buster bear had found old mr. toad catching ants, one at a time, as he kept watch beside their home, and it had pleased buster to find some one else who liked ants.
right away he invited old mr. toad to dine with him.
but poor old mr. toad was frightened almost to death when he heard the deep, grumbly-rumbly voice of buster bear, for he had been so busy watching the ants that he had n't seen buster coming.
he fell right over on his back, which was n't at all dignified, and made buster bear laugh.
that frightened mr. toad more than ever.
you see he did n't have the least doubt in the world that buster bear meant to eat him, and when buster invited him to dinner, he was sure that that was just a joke on buster's part.
but there was no way to escape, and after a little old mr. toad thought it best to be polite, because, you know, it always pays to be polite.
so he said in a very faint voice that he would be pleased to dine with buster.
then he waved his feet feebly, trying to get on his feet again.
buster bear laughed harder than ever.
it was a low, deep, grumbly-rumbly laugh, and sent cold shivers all over poor old mr. toad.
but when buster reached out a great paw with great cruel-looking claws mr. toad quite gave up.
he did n't have strength enough left to even kick.
he just closed his eyes and waited for the end.
what do you think happened?
why, he was rolled over on to his feet so gently that he just gasped with surprise.
it did n't seem possible that such a great paw could be so gentle.
""now," said buster bear in a voice which he tried to make sound pleasant, but which was grumbly-rumbly just the same, "i know where there is a fine dinner waiting for us just a little way from here.
you follow me, and we'll have it in no time."
so buster bear led the way, and old mr. toad followed as fast as he could, because he did n't dare not to.
presently buster stopped beside a big decayed old log.
""if you are ready, mr. toad, we will dine now," said he.
old mr. toad did n't see anything to eat.
his heart sank again, and he shook all over.
""i -- i'm not hungry," said he in a very faint voice.
buster bear did n't seem to hear.
he hooked his great claws into the old log and gave a mighty pull.
over rolled the log, and there were ants and ants and ants, hurrying this way and scurrying that way, more ants than mr. toad had seen in all his life before!
""help yourself," said buster bear politely.
old mr. toad did n't wait to be told twice.
he forgot all about his fright.
he forgot all about buster bear.
he forgot that he was n't hungry.
he forgot his manners.
he jumped right in among those ants, and for a little while he was the busiest toad ever seen.
buster bear was busy too.
he swept his long tongue this way, and he swept it that way, and each time he drew it back into his mouth, it was covered with ants.
at last old mr. toad could n't hold another ant.
then he remembered buster bear and looked up a little fearfully.
buster was smacking his lips, and there was a twinkle in each eye.
""good, are n't they?"
said he.
""the best i ever ate," declared old mr. toad with a sigh of satisfaction.
""come dine with me again," said buster bear, and somehow this time old mr. toad did n't mind because his voice sounded grumbly-rumbly.
""thank you, i will," replied old mr. toad.
xx old mr. toad is puffed up old mr. toad hopped slowly down the lone little path.
he usually does hop slowly, but this time he hopped slower than ever.
you see, he was so puffed up that he could n't have hopped fast if he had wanted to, and he did n't want to.
in the first place his stomach was so full of ants that there was n't room for another one.
no, sir, old mr. toad could n't have swallowed another ant if he had tried.
of course they made his stomach stick out, but it was n't the ants that puffed him out all over.
oh, my, no!
it was pride.
that's what it was -- pride.
you know nothing can puff any one up quite like foolish pride.
old mr. toad was old enough to have known better.
it is bad enough to see young and foolish creatures puffed up with pride, but it is worse to see any one as old as old mr. toad that way.
he held his head so high that he could n't see his own feet, and more than once he stubbed his toes.
presently he met his old friend, danny meadow mouse.
he tipped his head a little higher, puffed himself out a little more, and pretended not to see danny.
""hello, mr. toad," said danny.
mr. toad pretended not to hear.
danny looked puzzled.
then he spoke again, and this time he shouted: "hello, mr. toad!
i have n't seen you for some time."
it would n't do to pretend not to hear this time.
""oh, how do you do, danny?"
said old mr. toad with a very grand air, and pretending to be much surprised.
""sorry i ca n't stop, but i've been dining with, my friend, buster bear, and now i must get home."
when he mentioned the name of buster bear, he puffed himself out a little more.
danny grinned as he watched him hop on down the lone little path.
""ca n't talk with common folks any more," he muttered.
""i've heard that pride is very apt to turn people's heads, but i never expected to see old mr. toad proud."
-lsb- illustration: "ca n't talk with common folks any more," he muttered. -rsb-
mr. toad kept on his way, and presently he met peter rabbit.
peter stopped to gossip, as is his way.
but old mr. toad took no notice of him at all.
he kept right on with his head high, and all puffed out.
peter might have been a stick or a stone for all the notice old mr. toad took of him.
peter looked puzzled.
then he hurried down to tell danny meadow mouse about it.
""oh," said danny, "he's been to dine with buster bear, and now he has no use for his old friends."
pretty soon along came johnny chuck, and he was very much put out because he had been treated by old mr. toad just as peter rabbit had.
striped chipmunk told the same story.
so did unc" billy possum.
it was the same with all of old mr. toad's old friends and neighbors, excepting bobby coon, who, you know, is buster bear's little cousin.
to him old mr. toad was very polite and talked a great deal about buster bear, and thought that bobby must be very proud to be related to buster.
at first everybody thought it a great joke to see old mr. toad so puffed up with, pride, but after a little they grew tired of being snubbed by their old friend and neighbor, and began to say unpleasant things about him.
then they decided that what old mr. toad needed was a lesson, so they put their heads together and planned how they would teach old mr. toad how foolish it is for any one to be puffed up with pride.
xxi old mr. toad receives another invitation the friends and neighbors of old mr. toad decided that he needed to be taught a lesson.
at first, you know, every one had laughed at him, because he had grown too proud to speak to them, but after a little they grew tired of being treated so, and some of them put their heads together to think of some plan to teach old mr. toad a lesson and what a very, very foolish thing false pride is.
the very next day jimmy skunk went into the green forest to look for buster bear.
you know jimmy is n't afraid of buster.
he did n't have to look long, and when he had found him, the very first thing he did was to ask buster if he had seen any fat beetles that morning.
you know jimmy is very fond of fat beetles, and the first thing he asks any one he may happen to meet is if they have seen any.
buster bear grinned and said he thought he knew where there might be a few, and he would be pleased to have jimmy go with him to see.
sure enough, under an old log he found five fat beetles, and these jimmy gobbled up without even asking buster if he would have one.
jimmy is usually very polite, but this time he quite forgot politeness.
i am afraid he is rather apt to when fat beetles are concerned.
but buster did n't seem to mind.
when the last beetle had disappeared jimmy smacked his lips, and then he told buster bear what he had come for.
of course, at first buster had thought it was for the fat beetles.
but it was n't.
no, sir, it was n't for the fat beetles at all.
it was to get buster bear's help in a plan to teach old mr. toad a lesson.
first jimmy told buster all about how puffed up old mr. toad was because he had dined with buster, and how ever since then he had refused even to speak to his old friends and neighbors.
it tickled buster bear so to think that little homely old mr. toad could be proud of anything that he laughed and laughed, and his laugh was deep and grumbly-rumbly.
then jimmy told him the plan to teach old mr. toad a lesson and asked buster if he would help.
buster's eyes twinkled as he promised to do what jimmy asked.
then jimmy went straight to where old mr. toad was sitting all puffed up, taking a sun-bath.
""buster bear has just sent word by me to ask if you will honor him by dining with him to-morrow at the rotted chestnut stump near the edge of the green forest," said jimmy in his politest manner.
now if old mr. toad was puffed up before, just think how he swelled out when he heard that.
jimmy skunk was actually afraid that he would burst.
""you may tell my friend, buster bear, that i shall be very happy to honor him by dining with him," replied old mr. toad with a very grand air.
jimmy went off to deliver his reply, and old mr. toad sat and puffed himself out until he could hardly breathe.
""honor him by dining with him," said he over and over to himself.
""i never was so flattered in my life."
xxii old mr. toad learns a lesson pride is like a great big bubble; you'll find there's nothing in it.
prick it and for all your trouble it has vanished in a minute.
old mr. toad was so puffed out with pride as he started for the green forest to dine with buster bear that those who saw him wondered if he would n't burst before he got there.
everybody knew where he was going, and this made old mr. toad feel more important and proud than ever.
he might not have felt quite so puffed up if he had known just how it had come about that he received this second invitation to dine with buster bear.
when jimmy skunk brought it to him, jimmy did n't tell him that buster had been asked to send the invitation, and that it was all part of a plan on the part of some of old mr. toad's old friends and neighbors to teach him a lesson.
no, indeed, jimmy did n't say anything at all about that!
so old mr. toad went hopping along and stumbling over his own feet, because his head was held so high and he was so puffed out that he could n't see where he was going.
he could think of nothing but how important buster bear must consider him to invite him to dinner a second time, and of the delicious ants he was sure he would have to eat.
""what very good taste buster bear has," thought he, "and how very fortunate it is that he found out that i also am fond of ants."
he was so busy with these pleasant thoughts and of the good dinner that he expected to have that he took no notice of what was going on about him.
he did n't see his old friends and neighbors peeping out at him and laughing because he looked so foolish and silly.
he was dressed in his very best, which was nothing at all to be proud of, for you know old mr. toad has no fine clothes.
and being puffed up so, he was homelier than ever, which is saying a great deal, for at best mr. toad is anything but handsome.
he was beginning to get pretty tired by the time he reached the green forest and came in sight of the rotted old chestnut stump where he was to meet buster bear.
buster was waiting for him.
""how do you do this fine day?
you look a little tired and rather warm, mr. toad," said he.
""i am a little warm," replied mr. toad in his most polite manner, although he could n't help panting for breath as he said it.
""i hope you are feeling as well as you are looking, mr. bear."
-lsb- illustration: "i am a little warm," replied mr. toad in his most polite manner. -rsb-
buster bear laughed a great, grumbly-rumbly laugh.
""i always feel fine when there is a dinner of fat ants ready for me," said he.
""it is fine of you to honor me by coming to dine."
here mr. toad put one hand on his stomach and tried to make a very grand bow.
peter rabbit, hiding behind a near-by tree, almost giggled aloud, he looked so funny.
""i have ventured to invite another to enjoy the dinner with us," continued buster bear.
mr. toad's face fell.
you see he was selfish.
he wanted to be the only one to have the honor of dining with buster bear.
""he's a little late," went on buster, "but i think he will be here soon, and i hope you will be glad to meet him.
ah, there he comes now!"
old mr. toad looked in the direction in which buster bear was looking.
he gave a little gasp and turned quite pale.
all his puffiness disappeared.
he did n't look like the same toad at all.
the newcomer was mr. blacksnake.
""oh!"
cried old mr. toad, and then, without even asking to be excused, he turned his back on buster bear and started back the way he had come, with long, frightened hops.
""ha, ha, ha!"
shouted peter rabbit, jumping out from behind a tree.
""ho, ho, ho!"
shouted jimmy skunk from behind another.
""hee, hee, hee!"
shouted johnny chuck from behind a third.
then old mr. toad knew that his old friends and neighbors had planned this to teach him a lesson.
xxiii old mr. toad is very humble when old mr. toad saw mr. blacksnake and turned his back on buster bear and the fine dinner to which buster had invited him, he had but just one idea in his head, and that was to get out of sight of mr. blacksnake as soon as possible.
he forgot to ask buster bear to excuse him.
he forgot that he was tired and hot.
he forgot all the pride with which he had been so puffed up.
he forgot everything but the need of getting out of sight of mr. blacksnake as soon as ever he could.
so away went old mr. toad, hop, hop, hipperty-hop, hop, hop, hipperty-hop!
he heard peter rabbit and jimmy skunk and johnny chuck and others of his old friends and neighbors shouting with laughter.
yes, and he heard the deep, grumbly-rumbly laugh of buster bear.
but he did n't mind it.
not then, anyway.
he had n't room for any feeling except fear of mr. blacksnake.
but old mr. toad had to stop after a while.
you see, his legs were so tired they just would n't go any longer.
and he was so out of breath that he wheezed.
he crawled under a big piece of bark, and there he lay flat on the ground and panted and panted for breath.
he would stay there until jolly, round, bright mr. sun went to bed behind the purple hills.
then mr. blacksnake would go to bed too, and it would be safe for him to go home.
now, lying there in the dark, for it was dark under that big piece of bark, old mr. toad had time to think.
little by little he began to understand that his invitation to dine with buster bear had been part of a plan by his old friends and neighbors whom he had so snubbed and looked down on when he had been puffed up with pride, to teach him a lesson.
at first he was angry, very angry indeed.
then he began to see how foolish and silly he had been, and shame took the place of anger.
as he remembered the deep, grumbly-rumbly laughter of buster bear, the feeling of shame grew.
""i deserve it," thought old mr. toad.
""yes, sir, i deserve every bit of it.
the only thing that i have to be proud of is that i'm honest and work for my living.
yes, sir, that's all."
when darkness came at last, and he crawled out to go home, he was feeling very humble.
peter rabbit happened along just then.
old mr. toad opened his mouth to speak, but peter suddenly threw his head up very high and strutted past as if he did n't see old mr. toad at all.
mr. toad gulped and went on.
pretty soon he met jimmy skunk.
jimmy went right on about his business and actually stepped right over old mr. toad as if he had been a stick or a stone.
old mr. toad gulped again and went on.
the next day he went down to see danny meadow mouse.
he meant to tell danny how ashamed he was for the way he had treated danny and his other friends.
but danny brushed right past without even a glance at him.
old mr. toad gulped and started up to see johnny chuck.
the same thing happened again.
so it did when he met striped chipmunk.
at last old mr. toad gave up and went home, where he sat under a big mullein leaf the rest of the day, feeling very miserable and lonely.
he did n't have appetite enough to snap at a single fly.
late that afternoon he heard a little noise and looked up to find all his old friends and neighbors forming a circle around him.
suddenly they began to dance and shout: "old mr. toad is a jolly good fellow!
his temper is sweet, disposition is mellow!
and now that his bubble of pride is quite busted we know that he knows that his friends can be trusted."
then old mr. toad knew that all was well once more, and presently he began to dance too, the funniest dance that ever was seen.
this is all for now about homely old mr. toad, because i have just got to tell you about another homely fellow, -- prickly porky the porcupine, -- who carries a thousand little spears.
the next book will tell you all about his adventures.