_book_title_: andrew_lang___the_grey_fairy_book.txt.out
donkey skin there was once upon a time a king who was so much beloved by his subjects that he thought himself the happiest monarch in the whole world, and he had everything his heart could desire.
his palace was filled with the rarest of curiosities, and his garden with the sweetest flowers, while the marble stalls of his stables stood a row of milk-white arabs, with big brown eyes.
strangers who had heard of the marvels which the king had collected, and made long journeys to see them, were, however, surprised to find the most splendid stall of all occupied by a donkey, with particularly large and drooping ears.
it was a very fine donkey; but still, as far as they could tell, nothing so very remarkable as to account for the care with which it was lodged; and they went away wondering, for they could not know that every night, when it was asleep, bushels of gold pieces tumbled out of its ears, which were picked up each morning by the attendants.
after many years of prosperity a sudden blow fell upon the king in the death of his wife, whom he loved dearly.
but before she died, the queen, who had always thought first of his happiness, gathered all her strength, and said to him: "promise me one thing: you must marry again, i know, for the good of your people, as well as of yourself.
but do not set about it in a hurry.
wait until you have found a woman more beautiful and better formed than myself."
"oh, do not speak to me of marrying," sobbed the king; "rather let me die with you!"
but the queen only smiled faintly, and turned over on her pillow and died.
for some months the king's grief was great; then gradually he began to forget a little, and, besides, his counsellors were always urging him to seek another wife.
at first he refused to listen to them, but by-and-by he allowed himself to be persuaded to think of it, only stipulating that the bride should be more beautiful and attractive than the late queen, according to the promise he had made her.
overjoyed at having obtained what they wanted, the counsellors sent envoys far and wide to get portraits of all the most famous beauties of every country.
the artists were very busy and did their best, but, alas!
nobody could even pretend that any of the ladies could compare for a moment with the late queen.
at length, one day, when he had turned away discouraged from a fresh collection of pictures, the king's eyes fell on his adopted daughter, who had lived in the palace since she was a baby, and he saw that, if a woman existed on the whole earth more lovely than the queen, this was she!
he at once made known what his wishes were, but the young girl, who was not at all ambitious, and had not the faintest desire to marry him, was filled with dismay, and begged for time to think about it.
that night, when everyone was asleep, she started in a little car drawn by a big sheep, and went to consult her fairy godmother."
i know what you have come to tell me," said the fairy, when the maiden stepped out of the car; "and if you do n't wish to marry him, i will show you how to avoid it.
ask him to give you a dress that exactly matches the sky.
it will be impossible for him to get one, so you will be quite safe."
the girl thanked the fairy and returned home again.
-lsb- illustration: the king's pet donkey -rsb- the next morning, when her father -lrb- as she had always called him -rrb- came to see her, she told him that she could give him no answer until he had presented her with a dress the colour of the sky.
the king, overjoyed at this answer, sent for all the choicest weavers and dressmakers in the kingdom, and commanded them to make a robe the colour of the sky without an instant's delay, or he would cut off their heads at once.
dreadfully frightened at this threat, they all began to dye and cut and sew, and in two days they brought back the dress, which looked as if it had been cut straight out of the heavens!
the poor girl was thunderstruck, and did not know what to do; so in the night she harnessed her sheep again, and went in search of her godmother.
"the king is cleverer than i thought," said the fairy; "but tell him you must have a dress of moonbeams."
and the next day, when the king summoned her into his presence, the girl told him what she wanted.
"madam, i can refuse you nothing," said he; and he ordered the dress to be ready in twenty-four hours, or every man should be hanged.
they set to work with all their might, and by dawn next day, the dress of moonbeams was laid across her bed.
the girl, though she could not help admiring its beauty, began to cry, till the fairy, who heard her, came to her help.
"well, i could not have believed it of him!"
said she; "but ask for a dress of sunshine, and i shall be surprised indeed if he manages that!"
the goddaughter did not feel much faith in the fairy after her two previous failures; but not knowing what else to do, she told her father what she was bid.
the king made no difficulties about it, and even gave his finest rubies and diamonds to ornament the dress, which was so dazzling, when finished, that it could not be looked at save through smoked glasses!
when the princess saw it, she pretended that the sight hurt her eyes, and retired to her room, where she found the fairy awaiting her, very much ashamed of herself.
"there is only one thing to be done now," cried she; "you must demand the skin of the ass he sets such store by.
it is from that donkey he obtains all his vast riches, and i am sure he will never give it to you."
the princess was not so certain; however, she went to the king, and told him she could never marry him till he had given her the ass's skin.
the king was both astonished and grieved at this new request, but did not hesitate an instant.
the ass was sacrificed, and the skin laid at the feet of the princess.
-lsb- illustration: the fairy, the princess & the donkey's skin -rsb- the poor girl, seeing no escape from the fate she dreaded, wept afresh, and tore her hair; when, suddenly, the fairy stood before her.
"take heart," she said, "all will now go well!
wrap yourself in this skin, and leave the palace and go as far as you can.
i will look after you.
your dresses and your jewels shall follow you underground, and if you strike the earth whenever you need anything, you will have it at once.
but go quickly: you have no time to lose."
so the princess clothed herself in the ass's skin, and slipped from the palace without being seen by anyone.
directly she was missed there was a great hue and cry, and every corner, possible and impossible, was searched.
then the king sent out parties along all the roads, but the fairy threw her invisible mantle over the girl when they approached, and none of them could see her.
the princess walked on a long, long way, trying to find some one who would take her in, and let her work for them; but though the cottagers, whose houses she passed, gave her food from charity, the ass's skin was so dirty they would not allow her to enter their houses.
for her flight had been so hurried she had had no time to clean it.
tired and disheartened at her ill-fortune, she was wandering, one day, past the gate of a farmyard, situated just outside the walls of a large town, when she heard a voice calling to her.
she turned and saw the farmer's wife standing among her turkeys, and making signs to her to come in."
i want a girl to wash the dishes and feed the turkeys, and clean out the pig-sty," said the woman, "and, to judge by your dirty clothes, you would not be too fine for the work."
the girl accepted her offer with joy, and she was at once set to work in a corner of the kitchen, where all the farm servants came and made fun of her, and the ass's skin in which she was wrapped.
but by-and-by they got so used to the sight of it that it ceased to amuse them, and she worked so hard and so well, that her mistress grew quite fond of her.
and she was so clever at keeping sheep and herding turkeys that you would have thought she had done nothing else during her whole life!
one day she was sitting on the banks of a stream bewailing her wretched lot, when she suddenly caught sight of herself in the water.
her hair and part of her face was quite concealed by the ass's head, which was drawn right over like a hood, and the filthy matted skin covered her whole body.
it was the first time she had seen herself as other people saw her, and she was filled with shame at the spectacle.
then she threw off her disguise and jumped into the water, plunging in again and again, till she shone like ivory.
when it was time to go back to the farm, she was forced to put on the skin which disguised her, and now seemed more dirty than ever; but, as she did so, she comforted herself with the thought that to-morrow was a holiday, and that she would be able for a few hours to forget that she was a farm girl, and be a princess once more.
so, at break of day, she stamped on the ground, as the fairy had told her, and instantly the dress like the sky lay across her tiny bed.
her room was so small that there was no place for the train of her dress to spread itself out, but she pinned it up carefully when she combed her beautiful hair and piled it up on the top of her head, as she had always worn it.
when she had done, she was so pleased with herself that she determined never to let a chance pass of putting on her splendid clothes, even if she had to wear them in the fields, with no one to admire her but the sheep and turkeys.
now the farm was a royal farm, and, one holiday, when "donkey skin" -lrb- as they had nicknamed the princess -rrb- had locked the door of her room and clothed herself in her dress of sunshine, the king's son rode through the gate, and asked if he might come and rest himself a little after hunting.
some food and milk were set before him in the garden, and when he felt rested he got up, and began to explore the house, which was famous throughout the whole kingdom for its age and beauty.
he opened one door after the other, admiring the old rooms, when he came to a handle that would not turn.
he stooped and peeped through the keyhole to see what was inside, and was greatly astonished at beholding a beautiful girl, clad in a dress so dazzling that he could hardly look at it.
the dark gallery seemed darker than ever as he turned away, but he went back to the kitchen and inquired who slept in the room at the end of the passage.
the scullery maid, they told him, whom everybody laughed at, and called "donkey skin;" and though he perceived there was some strange mystery about this, he saw quite clearly there was nothing to be gained by asking any more questions.
so he rode back to the palace, his head filled with the vision he had seen through the keyhole.
all night long he tossed about, and awoke the next morning in a high fever.
the queen, who had no other child, and lived in a state of perpetual anxiety about this one, at once gave him up for lost, and indeed his sudden illness puzzled the greatest doctors, who tried the usual remedies in vain.
at last they told the queen that some secret sorrow must be at the bottom of all this, and she threw herself on her knees beside her son's bed, and implored him to confide his trouble to her.
if it was ambition to be king, his father would gladly resign the cares of the crown, and suffer him to reign in his stead; or, if it was love, everything should be sacrificed to get for him the wife he desired, even if she were daughter of a king with whom the country was at war at present!
"madam," replied the prince, whose weakness would hardly allow him to speak, "do not think me so unnatural as to wish to deprive my father of his crown.
as long as he lives i shall remain the most faithful of his subjects!
and as to the princesses you speak of, i have seen none that i should care for as a wife, though i would always obey your wishes, whatever it might cost me."
"ah!
my son," cried she, "we will do anything in the world to save your life -- and ours too, for if you die, we shall die also."
"well, then," replied the prince," i will tell you the only thing that will cure me -- a cake made by the hand of "donkey skin.""
"donkey skin?"
exclaimed the queen, who thought her son had gone mad; "and who or what is that?"
"madam," answered one of the attendants present, who had been with the prince at the farm," "donkey skin" is, next to the wolf, the most disgusting creature on the face of the earth.
she is a girl who wears a black, greasy skin, and lives at your farmer's as hen-wife."
"never mind," said the queen; "my son seems to have eaten some of her pastry.
it is the whim of a sick man, no doubt; but send at once and let her bake a cake."
the attendant bowed and ordered a page to ride with the message.
now it is by no means certain that "donkey skin" had not caught a glimpse of the prince, either when his eyes looked through the keyhole, or else from her little window, which was over the road.
but whether she had actually seen him or only heard him spoken of, directly she received the queen's command, she flung off the dirty skin, washed herself from head to foot, and put on a skirt and bodice of shining silver.
then, locking herself into her room, she took the richest cream, the finest flour, and the freshest eggs on the farm, and set about making her cake.
as she was stirring the mixture in the saucepan a ring that she sometimes wore in secret slipped from her finger and fell into the dough.
perhaps "donkey skin" saw it, or perhaps she did not; but, any way, she went on stirring, and soon the cake was ready to be put in the oven.
when it was nice and brown she took off her dress and put on her dirty skin, and gave the cake to the page, asking at the same time for news of the prince.
but the page turned his head aside, and would not even condescend to answer.
the page rode like the wind, and as soon as he arrived at the palace he snatched up a silver tray and hastened to present the cake to the prince.
the sick man began to eat it so fast that the doctors thought he would choke; and, indeed, he very nearly did, for the ring was in one of the bits which he broke off, though he managed to extract it from his mouth without anyone seeing him.
the moment the prince was left alone he drew the ring from under his pillow and kissed it a thousand times.
then he set his mind to find how he was to see the owner -- for even he did not dare to confess that he had only beheld "donkey skin" through a keyhole, lest they should laugh at this sudden passion.
all this worry brought back the fever, which the arrival of the cake had diminished for the time; and the doctors, not knowing what else to say, informed the queen that her son was simply dying of love.
the queen, stricken with horror, rushed into the king's presence with the news, and together they hastened to their son's bedside.
"my boy, my dear boy!"
cried the king, "who is it you want to marry?
we will give her to you for a bride, even if she is the humblest of our slaves.
what is there in the whole world that we would not do for you?"
the prince, moved to tears at these words, drew the ring, which was an emerald of the purest water, from under his pillow.
"ah, dear father and mother, let this be a proof that she whom i love is no peasant girl.
the finger which that ring fits has never been thickened by hard work.
but be her condition what it may, i will marry no other."
the king and queen examined the tiny ring very closely, and agreed, with their son, that the wearer could be no mere farm girl.
then the king went out and ordered heralds and trumpeters to go through the town, summoning every maiden to the palace.
and she whom the ring fitted would some day be queen.
first came all the princesses, then all the duchesses" daughters, and so on, in proper order.
but not one of them could slip the ring over the tip of her finger, to the great joy of the prince, whom excitement was fast curing.
at last, when the high-born damsels had failed, the shopgirls and chambermaids took their turn; but with no better fortune.
"call in the scullions and shepherdesses," commanded the prince; but the sight of their fat, red fingers satisfied everybody.
"there is not a woman left, your highness," said the chamberlain; but the prince waved him aside.
"have you sent for "donkey skin," who made me the cake?"
asked he, and the courtiers began to laugh, and replied that they would not have dared to introduce so dirty a creature into the palace.
"let some one go for her at once," ordered the king."
i commanded the presence of every maiden, high or low, and i meant it."
the princess had heard the trumpets and the proclamations, and knew quite well that her ring was at the bottom of it all.
she too, had fallen in love with the prince in the brief glimpse she had had of him, and trembled with fear lest someone else's finger might be as small as her own.
when, therefore, the messenger from the palace rode up to the gate, she was nearly beside herself with delight.
hoping all the time for such a summons, she had dressed herself with great care, putting on the garment of moonlight, whose skirt was scattered over with emeralds.
but when they began calling to her to come down, she hastily covered herself with her donkey-skin and announced she was ready to present herself before his highness.
she was taken straight into the hall, where the prince was awaiting her, but at the sight of the donkey-skin his heart sank.
had he been mistaken after all?
"are you the girl," he said, turning his eyes away as he spoke, "are you the girl who has a room in the furthest corner of the inner court of the farmhouse?"
"yes, my lord, i am," answered she.
"hold out your hand then," continued the prince, feeling that he must keep his word, whatever the cost, and, to the astonishment of every one present, a little hand, white and delicate, came from beneath the black and dirty skin.
the ring slipped on with the utmost ease, and, as it did so, the skin fell to the ground, disclosing a figure of such beauty that the prince, weak as he was, fell on his knees before her, while the king and queen joined their prayers to his.
indeed, their welcome was so warm, and their caresses so bewildering, that the princess hardly knew how to find words to reply, when the ceiling of the hall opened, and the fairy godmother appeared, seated in a car made entirely of white lilac.
in a few words she explained the history of the princess, and how she came to be there, and, without losing a moment, preparations of the most magnificent kind were made for the wedding.
-lsb- illustration: the donkey-skin falls off. -rsb-
the kings of every country in the earth were invited, including, of course, the princess's adopted father -lrb- who by this time had married a widow -rrb-, and not one refused.
but what a strange assembly it was!
each monarch travelled in the way he thought most impressive; and some came borne in litters, others had carriages of every shape and kind, while the rest were mounted on elephants, tigers, and even upon eagles.
so splendid a wedding had never been seen before; and when it was over the king announced that it was to be followed by a coronation, for he and the queen were tired of reigning, and the young couple must take their place.
the rejoicings lasted for three whole months, then the new sovereigns settled down to govern their kingdom, and made themselves so much beloved by their subjects, that when they died, a hundred years later, each man mourned them as his own father and mother.
-lsb- from le cabinet des fées. -rsb-
the goblin pony "do n't stir from the fireplace to-night," said old peggy, "for the wind is blowing so violently that the house shakes; besides, this is hallow-e "en, when the witches are abroad, and the goblins, who are their servants, are wandering about in all sorts of disguises, doing harm to the children of men."
"why should i stay here?"
said the eldest of the young people.
"no, i must go and see what the daughter of old jacob, the rope-maker, is doing.
she would n't close her blue eyes all night if i did n't visit her father before the moon had gone down.'"
i must go and catch lobsters and crabs," said the second, "and not all the witches and goblins in the world shall hinder me."
so they all determined to go on their business or pleasure, and scorned the wise advice of old peggy.
only the youngest child hesitated a minute, when she said to him, "you stay here, my little richard, and i will tell you beautiful stories."
but he wanted to pick a bunch of wild thyme and some blackberries by moonlight, and ran out after the others.
when they got outside the house they said: "the old woman talks of wind and storm, but never was the weather finer or the sky more clear; see how majestically the moon stalks through the transparent clouds!"
then all of a sudden they noticed a little black pony close beside them.
"oh, ho!"
they said, "that is old valentine's pony; it must have escaped from its stable, and is going down to drink at the horse-pond."
"my pretty little pony," said the eldest, patting the creature with his hand, "you must n't run too far; i'll take you to the pond myself."
with these words he jumped on the pony's back and was quickly followed by his second brother, then by the third, and so on, till at last they were all astride the little beast, down to the small richard, who did n't like to be left behind.
-lsb- illustration: the goblin pony -rsb- on the way to the pond they met several of their companions, and they invited them all to mount the pony, which they did, and the little creature did not seem to mind the extra weight, but trotted merrily along.
the quicker it trotted the more the young people enjoyed the fun; they dug their heels into the pony's sides and called out, "gallop, little horse, you have never had such brave riders on your back before!"
in the meantime the wind had risen again, and the waves began to howl; but the pony did not seem to mind the noise, and instead of going to the pond, cantered gaily towards the sea-shore.
richard began to regret his thyme and blackberries, and the eldest brother seized the pony by the mane and tried to make it turn round, for he remembered the blue eyes of jacob the rope-maker's daughter.
but he tugged and pulled in vain, for the pony galloped straight on into the sea, till the waves met its forefeet.
as soon as it felt the water it neighed lustily and capered about with glee, advancing quickly into the foaming billows.
when the waves had covered the children's legs they repented their careless behaviour, and cried out: "the cursed little black pony is bewitched.
if we had only listened to old peggy's advice we should n't have been lost."
the further the pony advanced, the higher rose the sea; at last the waves covered the children's heads and they were all drowned.
towards morning old peggy went out, for she was anxious about the fate of her grandchildren.
she sought them high and low, but could not find them anywhere.
she asked all the neighbours if they had seen the children, but no one knew anything about them, except that the eldest had not been with the blue-eyed daughter of jacob the rope-maker.
as she was going home, bowed with grief, she saw a little black pony coming towards her, springing and curveting in every direction.
when it got quite near her it neighed loudly, and galloped past her so quickly that in a moment it was out of her sight.
-lsb- from the french, kletke. -rsb-
an impossible enchantment there once lived a king who was much loved by his people, and he, too, loved them warmly.
he led a very happy life, but he had the greatest dislike to the idea of marrying, nor had he ever felt the slightest wish to fall in love.
his subjects begged him to marry, and at last he promised to try to do so.
but as, so far, he had never cared for any woman he had seen, he made up his mind to travel in hopes of meeting some lady he could love.
so he arranged all the affairs of state in an orderly manner, and set out, attended by only one equerry, who, though not very clever, had most excellent good sense.
these people indeed generally make the best fellow-travellers.
the king explored several countries, doing all he could to fall in love, but in vain; and at the end of two years" journeys he turned his face towards home, with as free a heart as when he set out.
as he was riding along through a forest he suddenly heard the most awful miawing and shrieking of cats you can imagine.
the noise drew nearer, and nearer, and at last they saw a hundred huge spanish cats rush through the trees close to them.
they were so closely packed together that you could easily have covered them with a large cloak, and all were following the same track.
they were closely pursued by two enormous apes, dressed in purple suits, with the prettiest and best made boots you ever saw.
the apes were mounted on superb mastiffs, and spurred them on in hot haste, blowing shrill blasts on little toy trumpets all the time.
the king and his equerry stood still to watch this strange hunt, which was followed by twenty or more little dwarfs, some mounted on wolves, and leading relays, and others with cats in leash.
the dwarfs were all dressed in purple silk liveries like the apes.
a moment later a beautiful young woman mounted on a tiger came in sight.
she passed close to the king, riding at full speed, without taking any notice of him; but he was at once enchanted by her, and his heart was gone in a moment.
-lsb- illustration: the king sees princess mutinosa out hunting -rsb- to his great joy he saw that one of the dwarfs had fallen behind the rest, and at once began to question him.
the dwarf told him that the lady he had just seen was the princess mutinosa, the daughter of the king in whose country they were at that moment.
he added that the princess was very fond of hunting, and that she was now in pursuit of rabbits.
the king then asked the way to the court, and having been told it, hurried off, and reached the capital in a couple of hours.
as soon as he arrived, he presented himself to the king and queen, and on mentioning his own name and that of his country, was received with open arms.
not long after, the princess returned, and hearing that the hunt had been very successful, the king complimented her on it, but she would not answer a word.
her silence rather surprised him, but he was still more astonished when he found that she never spoke once all through supper-time.
sometimes she seemed about to speak, but whenever this was the case her father or mother at once took up the conversation.
however, this silence did not cool the king's affection, and when he retired to his rooms at night he confided his feelings to his faithful equerry.
but the equerry was by no means delighted at his king's love affair, and took no pains to hide his disappointment.
"but why are you vexed?"
asked the king.
"surely the princess is beautiful enough to please anyone?"
"she is certainly very handsome," replied the equerry, "but to be really happy in love something more than beauty is required.
to tell the truth, sire," he added, "her expression seems to me hard."
"that is pride and dignity," said the king, "and nothing can be more becoming."
"pride or hardness, as you will," said the equerry; "but to my mind the choice of so many fierce creatures for her amusements seems to tell of a fierce nature, and i also think there is something suspicious in the care taken to prevent her speaking."
the equerry's remarks were full of good sense; but as opposition is only apt to increase love in the hearts of men, and especially of kings who hate being contradicted, this king begged, the very next day, for the hand of the princess mutinosa.
it was granted him on two conditions.
the first was that the wedding should take place the very next day; and the second, that he should not speak to the princess till she was his wife; to all of which the king agreed, in spite of his equerry's objections, so that the first word he heard his bride utter was the "yes" she spoke at their marriage.
once married, however, she no longer placed any check on herself, and her ladies-in-waiting came in for plenty of rude speeches -- even the king did not escape scolding; but as he was a good-tempered man, and very much in love, he bore it patiently.
a few days after the wedding the newly married pair set out for their kingdom without leaving many regrets behind.
the good equerry's fears proved only too true, as the king found out to his cost.
the young queen made herself most disagreeable to all her court, her spite and bad temper knew no bounds, and before the end of a month she was known far and wide as a regular vixen.
one day, when riding out, she met a poor old woman walking along the road, who made a curtsy and was going on, when the queen had her stopped, and cried: "you are a very impertinent person; do n't you know that i am the queen?
and how dare you not make me a deeper curtsy?"
"madam," said the old woman," i have never learnt how to measure curtsies; but i had no wish to fail in proper respect."
"what!"
screamed the queen; "she dares to answer!
tie her to my horse's tail and i'll just carry her at once to the best dancing-master in the town to learn how to curtsy."
the old woman shrieked for mercy, but the queen would not listen, and only mocked when she said she was protected by the fairies.
at last the poor old thing submitted to be tied up, but when the queen urged her horse on he never stirred.
in vain she spurred him, he seemed turned to bronze.
at the same moment the cord with which the old woman was tied changed into wreaths of flowers, and she herself into a tall and stately lady.
looking disdainfully at the queen, she said, "bad woman, unworthy of your crown; i wished to judge for myself whether all i heard of you was true.
i have now no doubt of it, and you shall see whether the fairies are to be laughed at."
so saying the fairy placida -lrb- that was her name -rrb- blew a little gold whistle, and a chariot appeared drawn by six splendid ostriches.
in it was seated the fairy queen, escorted by a dozen other fairies mounted on dragons.
all having dismounted, placida told her adventures, and the fairy queen approved all she had done, and proposed turning mutinosa into bronze like her horse.
placida, however, who was very kind and gentle, begged for a milder sentence, and at last it was settled that mutinosa should become her slave for life unless she should have a child to take her place.
the king was told of his wife's fate and submitted to it, which, as he could do nothing to help it, was the only course open to him.
the fairies then all dispersed, placida taking her slave with her, and on reaching her palace she said: "you ought by rights to be scullion, but as you have been delicately brought up the change might be too great for you.
i shall therefore only order you to sweep my rooms carefully, and to wash and comb my little dog."
mutinosa felt there was no use in disobeying, so she did as she was bid and said nothing.
after some time she gave birth to a most lovely little girl, and when she was well again the fairy gave her a good lecture on her past life, made her promise to behave better in future, and sent her back to the king, her husband.
placida now gave herself up entirely to the little princess who was left in her charge.
she anxiously thought over which of the fairies she would invite to be godmothers, so as to secure the best gift, for her adopted child.
at last she decided on two very kindly and cheerful fairies, and asked them to the christening feast.
directly it was over the baby was brought to them in a lovely crystal cradle hung with red silk curtains embroidered with gold.
the little thing smiled so sweetly at the fairies that they decided to do all they could for her.
they began by naming her graziella, and then placida said: "you know, dear sisters, that the commonest form of spite or punishment amongst us consists of changing beauty to ugliness, cleverness to stupidity, and oftener still to change a person's form altogether.
now, as we can only each bestow one gift, i think the best plan will be for one of you to give her beauty, the other good understanding, whilst i will undertake that she shall never be changed into any other form."
the two godmothers quite agreed, and as soon as the little princess had received their gifts, they went home, and placida gave herself up to the child's education.
she succeeded so well with it, and little graziella grew so lovely, that when she was still quite a child her fame was spread abroad only too much, and one day placida was surprised by a visit from the fairy queen, who was attended by a very grave and severe-looking fairy.
the queen began at once: "i have been much surprised by your behaviour to mutinosa; she had insulted our whole race, and deserved punishment.
you might forgive your own wrongs if you chose, but not those of others.
you treated her very gently whilst she was with you, and i come now to avenge our wrongs on her daughter.
you have ensured her being lovely and clever, and not subject to change of form, but i shall place her in an enchanted prison, which she shall never leave till she finds herself in the arms of a lover whom she herself loves.
it will be my care to prevent anything of the kind happening."
the enchanted prison was a large high tower in the midst of the sea, built of shells of all shapes and colours.
the lower floor was like a great bathroom, where the water was let in or off at will.
the first floor contained the princess's apartments, beautifully furnished.
on the second was a library, a large wardrobe-room filled with beautiful clothes and every kind of linen, a music room, a pantry with bins full of the best wines, and a store-room with all manner of preserves, bonbons, pastry and cakes, all of which remained as fresh as if just out of the oven.
the top of the tower was laid out like a garden, with beds of the loveliest flowers, fine fruit trees, and shady arbours and shrubs, where many birds sang amongst the branches.
the fairies escorted graziella and her governess, bonnetta, to the tower, and then mounted a dolphin which was waiting for them.
at a little distance from the tower the queen waved her wand and summoned two thousand great fierce sharks, whom she ordered to keep close guard, and not to let a soul enter the tower.
the good governess took such pains with graziella's education that when she was nearly grown up she was not only most accomplished, but a very sweet, good girl.
one day, as the princess was standing on a balcony, she saw the most extraordinary figure rise out of the sea.
she quickly called bonnetta to ask her what it could be.
it looked like some kind of man, with a bluish face and long sea-green hair.
he was swimming towards the tower, but the sharks took no notice of him.
"it must be a merman," said bonnetta."
a man, do you say?"
cried graziella; "let us hurry down to the door and see him nearer."
when they stood in the doorway the merman stopped to look at the princess and made many signs of admiration.
his voice was very hoarse and husky, but when he found that he was not understood he took to signs.
he carried a little basket made of osiers and filled with rare shells, which he presented to the princess.
she took it with signs of thanks; but as it was getting dusk she retired, and the merman plunged back into the sea.
when they were alone, graziella said to her governess: "what a dreadful-looking creature that was!
why do those odious sharks let him come near the tower?
i suppose all men are not like him?"
"no, indeed," replied bonnetta."
i suppose the sharks look on him as a sort of relation, and so did not attack him."
a few days later the two ladies heard a strange sort of music, and looking out of the window, there was the merman, his head crowned with water plants, and blowing a great sea-shell with all his might.
they went down to the tower door, and graziella politely accepted some coral and other marine curiosities he had brought her.
after this he used to come every evening, and blow his shell, or dive and play antics under the princess's window.
she contented herself with bowing to him from the balcony, but she would not go down to the door in spite of all his signs.
some days later he came with a person of his own kind, but of another sex.
her hair was dressed with great taste, and she had a lovely voice.
this new arrival induced the ladies to go down to the door.
they were surprised to find that, after trying various languages, she at last spoke to them in their own, and paid graziella a very pretty compliment on her beauty.
the mermaid noticed that the lower floor was full of water.
"why," cried she, "that is just the place for us, for we ca n't live quite out of water."
so saying, she and her brother swam in and took up a position in the bathroom, the princess and her governess seating themselves on the steps which ran round the room.
-lsb- illustration: the sea-people visit graziella -rsb- "no doubt, madam," said the mermaid, "you have given up living on land so as to escape from crowds of lovers; but i fear that even here you can not avoid them, for my brother is already dying of love for you, and i am sure that once you are seen in our city he will have many rivals."
she then went on to explain how grieved her brother was not to be able to make himself understood, adding: "i interpret for him, having been taught several languages by a fairy."
"oh, then, you have fairies, too?"
asked graziella, with a sigh.
"yes, we have," replied the mermaid; "but if i am not mistaken you have suffered from the fairies on earth."
the princess, on this, told her entire history to the mermaid, who assured her how sorry she felt for her, but begged her not to lose courage; adding, as she took her leave: "perhaps, some day, you may find a way out of your difficulties."
the princess was delighted with this visit and with the hopes the mermaid held out.
it was something to meet some one fresh to talk to.
"we will make acquaintance with several of these people," she said to her governess, "and i dare say they are not all as hideous as the first one we saw.
anyhow, we sha n't be so dreadfully lonely."
"dear me," said bonnetta, "how hopeful young people are to be sure!
as for me i feel afraid of these folk.
but what do you think of the lover you have captivated?"
"oh, i could never love him," cried the princess;" i ca n't bear him.
but, perhaps, as his sister says they are related to the fairy marina, they may be of some use to us."
the mermaid often returned, and each time she talked of her brother's love, and each time graziella talked of her longing to escape from her prison, till at length the mermaid promised to bring the fairy marina to see her, in hopes she might suggest something.
next day the fairy came with the mermaid, and the princess received her with delight.
after a little talk she begged graziella to show her the inside of the tower and let her see the garden on the top, for with the help of crutches she could manage to move about, and being a fairy could live out of water for a long time, provided she wetted her forehead now and then.
graziella gladly consented, and bonnetta stayed below with the mermaid.
when they were in the garden the fairy said: "let us lose no time, but tell me how i can be of use to you."
graziella then told all her story and marina replied: "my dear princess, i can do nothing for you as regards dry land, for my power does not reach beyond my own element.
i can only say that if you will honour my cousin by accepting his hand, you could then come and live amongst us.
i could teach you in a moment to swim and dive with the best of us.
i can harden your skin without spoiling its colour.
my cousin is one of the best matches in the sea, and i will bestow so many gifts on him that you will be quite happy."
the fairy talked so well and so long that the princess was rather impressed, and promised to think the matter over.
just as they were going to leave the garden they saw a ship sailing nearer the tower than any other had done before.
on the deck lay a young man under a splendid awning, gazing at the tower through a spy-glass; but before they could see anything clearly the ship moved away, and the two ladies parted, the fairy promising to return shortly.
as soon as she was gone graziella told her governess what she had said.
bonnetta was not at all pleased at the turn matters were taking, for she did not fancy being turned into a mermaid in her old age.
she thought the matter well over, and this was what she did.
she was a very clever artist, and next morning she began to paint a picture of a handsome young man, with beautiful curly hair, a fine complexion, and lovely blue eyes.
when it was finished she showed it to graziella, hoping it would show her the difference there was between a fine young man and her marine suitor.
the princess was much struck by the picture, and asked anxiously whether there could be any man so good-looking in the world.
bonnetta assured her that there were plenty of them; indeed, many far handsomer."
i can hardly believe that," cried the princess; "but, alas!
if there are, i do n't suppose i shall ever see them or they me, so what is the use?
oh, dear, how unhappy i am!"
she spent the rest of the day gazing at the picture, which certainly had the effect of spoiling all the merman's hopes or prospects.
after some days, the fairy marina came back to hear what was decided; but graziella hardly paid any attention to her, and showed such dislike to the idea of the proposed marriage that the fairy went off in a regular huff.
without knowing it, the princess had made another conquest.
on board the ship which had sailed so near was the handsomest prince in the world.
he had heard of the enchanted tower, and determined to get as near it as he could.
he had strong glasses on board, and whilst looking through them he saw the princess quite clearly, and fell desperately in love with her at once.
he wanted to steer straight for the tower and to row off to it in a small boat, but his entire crew fell at his feet and begged him not to run such a risk.
the captain, too, urged him not to attempt it.
"you will only lead us all to certain death," he said.
"pray anchor nearer land, and i will then seek a kind fairy i know, who has always been most obliging to me, and who will, i am sure, try to help your highness."
the prince rather unwillingly listened to reason.
he landed at the nearest point, and sent off the captain in all haste to beg the fairy's advice and help.
meantime he had a tent pitched on the shore, and spent all his time gazing at the tower and looking for the princess through his spy-glass.
after a few days the captain came back, bringing the fairy with him.
the prince was delighted to see her, and paid her great attention."
i have heard about this matter," she said; "and, to lose no time, i am going to send off a trusty pigeon to test the enchantment.
if there is any weak spot he is sure to find it out and get in.
i shall bid him bring a flower back as a sign of success, and if he does so i quite hope to get you in too."
"but," asked the prince, "could i not send a line by the pigeon to tell the princess of my love?"
"certainly," replied the fairy, "it would be a very good plan."
so the prince wrote as follows: -- "lovely princess, -- i adore you, and beg you to accept my heart, and to believe there is nothing i will not do to end your misfortunes.
-- blondel."
this note was tied round the pigeon's neck, and he flew off with it at once.
he flew fast till he got near the tower, when a fierce wind blew so hard against him that he could not get on.
but he was not to be beaten, but flew carefully round the top of the tower till he came to one spot which, by some mistake, had not been enchanted like the rest.
he quickly slipped into the arbour and waited for the princess.
before long graziella appeared alone, and the pigeon at once fluttered to meet her, and seemed so tame that she stopped to caress the pretty creature.
as she did so she saw it had a pink ribbon round its neck, and tied to the ribbon was a letter.
she read it over several times and then wrote this answer: -- "you say you love me; but i can not promise to love you without seeing you.
send me your portrait by this faithful messenger.
if i return it to you, you must give up hope; but if i keep it you will know that to help me will be to help yourself.
-- graziella."
before flying back the pigeon remembered about the flower, so, seeing one in the princess's dress, he stole it and flew away.
the prince was wild with joy at the pigeon's return with the note.
after an hour's rest the trusty little bird was sent back again, carrying a miniature of the prince, which by good luck he had with him.
on reaching the tower the pigeon found the princess in the garden.
she hastened to untie the ribbon, and on opening the miniature case what was her surprise and delight to find it very like the picture her governess had painted for her.
she hastened to send the pigeon back, and you can fancy the prince's joy when he found she had kept his portrait.
"now," said the fairy, "let us lose no more time.
i can only make you happy by changing you into a bird, but i will take care to give you back your proper shape at the right time."
the prince was eager to start, so the fairy, touching him with her wand, turned him into the loveliest humming-bird you ever saw, at the same time letting him keep the power of speech.
the pigeon was told to show him the way.
graziella was much surprised to see a perfectly strange bird, and still more so when it flew to her saying, "good-morning, sweet princess."
she was delighted with the pretty creature, and let him perch on her finger, when he said, "kiss, kiss, little birdie," which she gladly did, petting and stroking him at the same time.
after a time the princess, who had been up very early, grew tired, and as the sun was hot she went to lie down on a mossy bank in the shade of the arbour.
she held the pretty bird near her breast, and was just falling asleep, when the fairy contrived to restore the prince to his own shape, so that as graziella opened her eyes she found herself in the arms of a lover whom she loved in return!
at the same moment her enchantment came to an end.
the tower began to rock and to split.
bonnetta hurried up to the top so that she might at least perish with her dear princess.
just as she reached the garden, the kind fairy who had helped the prince arrived with the fairy placida, in a car of venetian glass drawn by six eagles.
-lsb- illustration: the fairy-car arrives. -rsb-
"come away quickly," they cried, "the tower is about to sink!"
the prince, princess, and bonnetta lost no time in stepping into the car, which rose in the air just as, with a terrible crash, the tower sank into the depths of the sea, for the fairy marina and the mermen had destroyed its foundations to avenge themselves on graziella.
luckily their wicked plans were defeated, and the good fairies took their way to the kingdom of graziella's parents.
they found that queen mutinosa had died some years ago, but her kind husband lived on peaceably, ruling his country well and happily.
he received his daughter with great delight, and there were universal rejoicings at the return of the lovely princess.
the wedding took place the very next day, and, for many days after, balls, dinners, tournaments, concerts and all sorts of amusements went on all day and all night.
all the fairies were carefully invited, and they came in great state, and promised the young couple their protection and all sorts of good gifts.
prince blondel and princess graziella lived to a good old age, beloved by every one, and loving each other more and more as time went on.
the story of dschemil and dschemila there was once a man whose name was dschemil, and he had a cousin who was called dschemila.
they had been betrothed by their parents when they were children, and now dschemil thought that the time had come for them to be married, and he went two or three days" journey, to the nearest big town, to buy furniture for the new house.
while he was away, dschemila and her friends set off to the neighbouring woods to pick up sticks, and as she gathered them she found an iron mortar lying on the ground.
she placed it on her bundle of sticks, but the mortar would not stay still, and whenever she raised the bundle to put it on her shoulders it slipped off sideways.
at length she saw the only way to carry the mortar was to tie it in the very middle of her bundle, and had just unfastened her sticks, when she heard her companions" voices.
"dschemila, what are you doing?
it is almost dark, and if you mean to come with us you must be quick!"
but dschemila only replied, "you had better go back without me, for i am not going to leave my mortar behind, if i stay here till midnight."
"do as you like," said the girls, and started on their walk home.
the night soon fell, and at the last ray of light the mortar suddenly became an ogre, who threw dschemila on his back, and carried her off into a desert place, distant a whole month's journey from her native town.
here he shut her into a castle, and told her not to fear, as her life was safe.
then he went back to his wife, leaving dschemila weeping over the fate that she had brought upon herself.
meanwhile the other girls had reached home, and dschemila's mother came out to look for her daughter.
"what have you done with her?"
she asked anxiously.
"we had to leave her in the wood," they replied, "for she had picked up an iron mortar, and could not manage to carry it."
so the old woman set off at once for the forest, calling to her daughter as she hurried along.
"do go home," cried the townspeople, as they heard her; "we will go and look for your daughter; you are only a woman, and it is a task that needs strong men."
but she answered, "yes, go; but i will go with you!
perhaps it will be only her corpse that we shall find after all.
she has most likely been stung by asps, or eaten by wild beasts."
the men, seeing her heart was bent on it, said no more, but told one of the girls she must come with them, and show them the place where they had left dschemila.
they found the bundle of wood lying where she had dropped it, but the maiden was nowhere to be seen.
"dschemila!
dschemila!"
cried they; but nobody answered.
"if we make a fire, perhaps she will see it," said one of the men.
and they lit a fire, and then went, one this way, and one that, through the forest, to look for her, whispering to each other that if she had been killed by a lion they would be sure to find some trace of it; or if she had fallen asleep, the sound of their voices would wake her; or if a snake had bitten her, they would at least come on her corpse.
all night they searched, and when morning broke and they knew no more than before what had become of the maiden, they grew weary, and said to the mother: "it is no use.
let us go home, nothing has happened to your daughter, except that she has run away with a man."
"yes, i will come," answered she, "but i must first look in the river.
perhaps some one has thrown her in there."
but the maiden was not in the river.
for four days the father and mother waited and watched for their child to come back; then they gave up hope, and said to each other: "what is to be done?
what are we to say to the man to whom dschemila is betrothed?
let us kill a goat, and bury its head in the grave, and when the man returns we must tell him dschemila is dead."
very soon the bridegroom came back, bringing with him carpets and soft cushions for the house of his bride.
and as he entered the town dschemila's father met him, saying, "greeting to you.
she is dead."
at these words the young man broke into loud cries, and it was some time before he could speak.
then he turned to one of the crowd who had gathered round him, and asked: "where have they buried her?"
"come to the churchyard with me," answered he; and the young man went with him, carrying with him some of the beautiful things he had brought.
these he laid on the grass and then began to weep afresh.
all day he stayed, and at nightfall he gathered up his stuffs and carried them to his own house.
but when the day dawned he took them in his arms and returned to the grave, where he remained as long as it was light, playing softly on his flute.
and this he did daily for six months.
* * * * * one morning, a man who was wandering through the desert, having lost his way, came upon a lonely castle.
the sun was very hot, and the man was very tired, so he said to himself," i will rest a little in the shadow of this castle."
he stretched himself out comfortably, and was almost asleep, when he heard a voice calling to him softly: "are you a ghost," it said, "or a man?"
he looked up, and saw a girl leaning out of a window, and he answered: "i am a man, and a better one, too, than your father or your grandfather."
"may all good luck be with you," said she; "but what has brought you into this land of ogres and horrors?"
"does an ogre really live in this castle?"
asked he.
"certainly he does," replied the girl, "and as night is not far off he will be here soon.
so, dear friend, depart quickly, lest he return and snap you up for supper."
"but i am so thirsty!"
said the man.
"be kind, and give me some drink, or else i shall die!
surely, even in this desert there must be some spring?"
"well, i have noticed that whenever the ogre brings back water he always comes from that side; so if you follow the same direction perhaps you may find some."
the man jumped up at once and was about to start, when the maiden spoke again: "tell me, where you are going?"
"why do you want to know?'"
i have an errand for you; but tell me first whether you go east or west.'"
i travel to damascus."
"then do this for me.
as you pass through our village, ask for a man called dschemil, and say to him: "dschemila greets you, from the castle, which lies far away, and is rocked by the wind.
in my grave lies only a goat.
so take heart.""
and the man promised, and went his way, till he came to a spring of water.
and he drank a great draught and then lay on the bank and slept quietly.
when he woke he said to himself, "the maiden did a good deed when she told me where to find water.
a few hours more, and i should have been dead.
so i will do her bidding, and seek out her native town and the man for whom the message was given."
for a whole month he travelled, till at last he reached the town where dschemil dwelt, and as luck would have it, there was the young man sitting before his door with his beard unshaven and his shaggy hair hanging over his eyes.
"welcome, stranger," said dschemil, as the man stopped.
"where have you come from?'"
i come from the west, and go towards the east," he answered.
"well, stop with us awhile, and rest and eat!"
said dschemil.
and the man entered; and food was set before him, and he sat down with the father of the maiden and her brothers, and dschemil.
only dschemil himself was absent, squatting on the threshold.
"why do you not eat too?"
asked the stranger.
but one of the young men whispered hastily: "leave him alone.
take no notice!
it is only at night that he ever eats."
so the stranger went on silently with his food.
suddenly one of dschemil's brothers called out and said: "dschemil, bring us some water!"
and the stranger remembered his message and said: "is there a man here named "dschemil"?
i lost my way in the desert, and came to a castle, and a maiden looked out of the window and --" "be quiet," they cried, fearing that dschemil might hear.
but dschemil had heard, and came forward and said: "what did you see?
tell me truly, or i will cut off your head this instant!"
"my lord," replied the stranger, "as i was wandering, hot and tired, through the desert, i saw near me a great castle, and i said aloud, "i will rest a little in its shadow."
and a maiden looked out of a window and said, "are you a ghost or a man?"
and i answered.
""i am a man, and a better one, too, than your father or your grandfather."
and i was thirsty and asked for water, but she had none to give me, and i felt like to die.
then she told me that the ogre, in whose castle she dwelt, brought in water always from the same side, and that if i too went that way most likely i should come to it.
but before i started she begged me to go to her native town, and if i met a man called dschemil i was to say to him, "dschemila greets you, from the castle which lies far away, and is rocked by the wind.
in my grave lies only a goat.
so take heart.""
then dschemil turned to his family and said: "is this true?
and is dschemila not dead at all, but simply stolen from her home?"
"no, no," replied they, "his story is a pack of lies.
dschemila is really dead.
everybody knows it."
"that i shall see for myself," said dschemil, and, snatching up a spade, hastened off to the grave where the goat's head lay buried.
and they answered, "then hear what really happened.
when you were away, she went with the other maidens to the forest to gather wood.
and there she found an iron mortar, which she wished to bring home; but she could not carry it, neither would she leave it.
so the maidens returned without her, and as night was come, we all set out to look for her, but found nothing.
and we said, "the bridegroom will be here to-morrow, and when he learns that she is lost, he will set out to seek her, and we shall lose him too.
let us kill a goat, and bury it in her grave, and tell him she is dead."
now you know, so do as you will.
only, if you go to seek her, take with you this man with whom she has spoken that he may show you the way."
"yes; that is the best plan," replied dschemil; "so give me food, and hand me my sword, and we will set out directly."
but the stranger answered: "i am not going to waste a whole month in leading you to the castle!
if it were only a day or two's journey i would not mind; but a month -- no!"
"come with me then for three days," said dschemil, "and put me in the right road, and i will reward you richly."
"very well," replied the stranger, "so let it be."
for three days they travelled from sunrise to sunset, then the stranger said: "dschemil?"
"yes," replied he.
"go straight on till you reach a spring, then go on a little farther, and soon you will see the castle standing before you."
"so i will," said dschemil.
"farewell, then," said the stranger, and turned back the way he had come.
it was six and twenty days before dschemil caught sight of a green spot rising out of the sandy desert, and knew that the spring was near at last.
he hastened his steps, and soon was kneeling by its side, drinking thirstily of the bubbling water.
then he lay down on the cool grass, and began to think.
"if the man was right, the castle must be somewhere about.
i had better sleep here to-night, and to-morrow i shall be able to see where it is."
so he slept long and peacefully.
when he awoke the sun was high, and he jumped up and washed his face and hands in the spring, before going on his journey.
he had not walked far, when the castle suddenly appeared before him, though a moment before not a trace of it could be seen.
"how am i to get in?"
he thought."
i dare not knock, lest the ogre should hear me.
perhaps it would be best for me to climb up the wall, and wait to see what will happen."
so he did, and after sitting on the top for about an hour, a window above him opened, and a voice said: "dschemil!"
he looked up, and at the sight of dschemila, whom he had so long believed to be dead, he began to weep.
"dear cousin," she whispered, "what has brought you here?"
"my grief at losing you."
"oh!
go away at once.
if the ogre comes back he will kill you.'"
i swear by your head, queen of my heart, that i have not found you only to lose you again!
if i must die, well, i must!"
"oh, what can i do for you?"
"anything you like!"
"if i let you down a cord, can you make it fast under your arms, and climb up?"
"of course i can," said he.
so dschemila lowered the cord, and dschemil tied it round him, and climbed up to her window.
then they embraced each other tenderly, and burst into tears of joy.
"but what shall i do when the ogre returns?"
asked she.
"trust to me," he said.
now there was a chest in the room, where dschemila kept her clothes.
and she made dschemil get into it, and lie at the bottom, and told him to keep very still.
he was only hidden just in time, for the lid was hardly closed when the ogre's heavy tread was heard on the stairs.
he flung open the door, bringing men's flesh for himself and lamb's flesh for the maiden."
i smell the smell of a man!"
he thundered.
"what is he doing here?"
"how could any one have come to this desert place?"
asked the girl, and burst into tears.
"do not cry," said the ogre; "perhaps a raven has dropped some scraps from his claws."
"ah, yes, i was forgetting," answered she.
"one did drop some bones about."
"well, burn them to powder," replied the ogre, "so that i may swallow it."
so the maiden took some bones and burned them, and gave them to the ogre, saying, "here is the powder, swallow it."
and when he had swallowed the powder the ogre stretched himself out and went to sleep.
in a little while the man's flesh, which the maiden was cooking for the ogre's supper, called out and said: "hist!
hist!
a man lies in the kist!"
and the lamb's flesh answered: "he is your brother, and cousin of the other."
the ogre moved sleepily, and asked, "what did the meat say, dschemila?"
"only that i must be sure to add salt."
"well, add salt."
"yes, i have done so," said she.
the ogre was soon sound asleep again, when the man's flesh called out a second time: "hist!
hist!
a man lies in the kist!"
and the lamb's flesh answered: "he is your brother, and cousin of the other."
"what did it say, dschemila?"
asked the ogre.
"only that i must add pepper."
"well, add pepper."
"yes, i have done so," said she.
the ogre had had a long day's hunting, and could not keep himself awake.
in a moment his eyes were tight shut, and then the man's flesh called out for the third time: "hist!
hist!
a man lies in the kist."
-lsb- illustration: dschemila-outwits-the-ogre -rsb- and the lamb's flesh answered: "he is your brother, and cousin of the other."
"what did it say, dschemila?"
asked the ogre.
"only that it was ready, and that i had better take it off the fire."
"then if it is ready, bring it to me, and i will eat it."
so she brought it to him, and while he was eating she supped of the lamb's flesh herself, and managed to put some aside for her cousin.
when the ogre had finished, and had washed his hands, he said to dschemila: "make my bed, for i am tired."
so she made his bed, and put a nice soft pillow for his head, and tucked him up.
"father," she said suddenly.
"well, what is it?"
"dear father, if you are really asleep, why are your eyes always open?"
"why do you ask that, dschemila?
do you want to deal treacherously with me?"
"no, of course not, father.
how could i, and what would be the use of it?"
"well, why do you want to know?"
"because last night i woke up and saw the whole place shining in a red light, which frightened me."
"that happens when i am fast asleep."
"and what is the good of the pin you always keep here so carefully?"
"if i throw that pin in front of me, it turns into an iron mountain."
"and this darning needle?"
"that becomes a sea."
"and this hatchet?"
"that becomes a thorn hedge, which no one can pass through.
but why do you ask all these questions?
i am sure you have something in your head."
"oh, i just wanted to know; and how could anyone find me out here?"
and she began to cry.
"oh, do n't cry, i was only in fun," said the ogre.
he was soon asleep again, and a yellow light shone through the castle.
"come quick!"
called dschemil from the chest; "we must fly now while the ogre is asleep."
"not yet," she said, "there is a yellow light shining.
i do n't think he is asleep."
so they waited for an hour.
then dschemil whispered again: "wake up!
there is no time to lose!"
"let me see if he is asleep," said she, and she peeped in, and saw a red light shining.
then she stole back to her cousin, and asked, "but how are we to get out?"
"get the rope, and i will let you down."
so she fetched the rope, the hatchet, and the pin and the needles, and said, "take them, and put them in the pocket of your cloak, and be sure not to lose them."
dschemil put them carefully in his pocket, and tied the rope round her, and let her down over the wall.
"are you safe?"
he asked.
"yes, quite."
"then untie the rope, so that i may draw it up."
and dschemila did as she was told, and in a few minutes he stood beside her.
now all this time the ogre was asleep, and had heard nothing.
then his dog came to him and said, "o, sleeper, are you having pleasant dreams?
dschemila has forsaken you and run away."
the ogre got out of bed, gave the dog a kick, then went back again, and slept till morning.
when it grew light, he rose, and called, "dschemila!
dschemila!"
but he only heard the echo of his own voice!
then he dressed himself quickly; buckled on his sword and whistled to his dog, and followed the road which he knew the fugitives must have taken.
"cousin," said dschemila suddenly, and turning round as she spoke.
"what is it?"
answered he.
"the ogre is coming after us.
i saw him."
"but where is he?
i do n't see him."
"over there.
he only looks about as tall as a needle."
then they both began to run as fast as they could, while the ogre and his dog kept drawing always nearer.
a few more steps, and he would have been by their side, when dschemila threw the darning needle behind her.
in a moment it became an iron mountain between them and their enemy.
"we will break it down, my dog and i," cried the ogre in a rage, and they dashed at the mountain till they had forced a path through, and came ever nearer and nearer.
"cousin!"
said dschemila suddenly.
"what is it?"
"the ogre is coming after us with his dog."
"you go on in front then," answered he; and they both ran on as fast as they could, while the ogre and the dog drew always nearer and nearer.
"they are close upon us!"
cried the maiden, glancing behind, "you must throw the pin."
so dschemil took the pin from his cloak and threw it behind him, and a dense thicket of thorns sprang up round them, which the ogre and his dog could not pass through."
i will get through it somehow, if i burrow underground," cried he, and very soon he and the dog were on the other side.
"cousin," said dschemila, "they are close to us now."
"go on in front, and fear nothing," replied dschemil.
so she ran on a little way, and then stopped.
"he is only a few yards away now," she said, and dschemil flung the hatchet on the ground, and it turned into a lake."
i will drink, and my dog shall drink, till it is dry," shrieked the ogre, and the dog drank so much that it burst and died.
but the ogre did not stop for that, and soon the whole lake was nearly dry.
then he exclaimed, "dschemila, let your head become a donkey's head, and your hair fur!"
-lsb- illustration: dschemila gets an ass's head -rsb- but when it was done, dschemil looked at her in horror, and said, "she is really a donkey, and not a woman at all!"
and he left her, and went home.
for two days poor dschemila wandered about alone, weeping bitterly.
when her cousin drew near his native town, he began to think over his conduct, and to feel ashamed of himself.
"perhaps by this time she has changed back to her proper shape," he said to himself," i will go and see!"
so he made all the haste he could, and at last he saw her seated on a rock, trying to keep off the wolves, who longed to have her for dinner.
he drove them off and said, "get up, dear cousin, you have had a narrow escape."
dschemila stood up and answered, "bravo, my friend.
you persuaded me to fly with you, and then left me helplessly to my fate."
"shall i tell you the truth?"
asked he.
"tell it.'"
i thought you were a witch, and i was afraid of you."
"did you not see me before my transformation?
and did you not watch it happen under your very eyes, when the ogre bewitched me?"
"what shall i do?"
said dschemil.
"if i take you into the town, everyone will laugh, and say, "is that a new kind of toy you have got?
it has hands like a woman, feet like a woman, the body of a woman; but its head is the head of an ass, and its hair is fur.""
"well, what do you mean to do with me?"
asked dschemila.
"better take me home to my mother by night, and tell no one anything about it."
"so i will," said he.
they waited where they were till it was nearly dark, then dschemil brought his cousin home.
"is that dschemil?"
asked the mother when he knocked softly.
"yes, it is."
"and have you found her?"
"yes, and i have brought her to you."
"oh, where is she?
let me see her!"
cried the mother.
"here, behind me," answered dschemil.
but when the poor woman caught sight of her daughter, she shrieked, and exclaimed, "are you making fun of me?
when did i ever give birth to an ass?"
"hush!"
said dschemil, "it is not necessary to let the whole world know!
and if you look at her body, you will see two scars on it."
"mother," sobbed dschemila, "do you really not know your own daughter?"
"yes, of course i know her."
"what are her two scars then?"
"on her thigh is a scar from the bite of a dog, and on her breast is the mark of a burn, where she pulled a lamp over her when she was little."
"then look at me, and see if i am not your daughter," said dschemila, throwing off her clothes and showing her two scars.
and at the sight her mother embraced her, weeping.
"dear daughter," she cried, "what evil fate has befallen you?"
"it was the ogre who carried me off first, and then bewitched me," answered dschemila.
"but what is to be done with you?"
asked her mother.
"hide me away, and tell no one anything about me.
and you, dear cousin, say nothing to the neighbours, and if they should put questions, you can make answer that i have not yet been found."
"so i will," replied he.
then he and her mother took her upstairs and hid her in a cupboard, where she stayed for a whole month, only going out to walk when all the world was asleep.
meanwhile dschemil had returned to his own home, where his father and mother, his brothers and neighbours, greeted him joyfully.
"when did you come back?"
said they, "and have you found dschemila?"
"no, i searched the whole world after her, and could hear nothing of her."
"did you part company with the man who started with you?"
"yes; after three days he got so weak and useless he could not go on.
it must be a month by now since he reached home again.
i went on and visited every castle, and looked in every house.
but there were no signs of her; and so i gave it up."
and they answered him: "we told you before that it was no good.
an ogre or an ogress must have snapped her up, and how can you expect to find her?'"
i loved her too much to be still," he said.
but his friends did not understand, and soon they spoke to him again about it.
"we will seek for a wife for you.
there are plenty of girls prettier than dschemila.'"
i dare say; but i do n't want them."
"but what will you do with all the cushions and carpets, and beautiful things you bought for your house?"
"they can stay in the chests."
"but the moths will eat them!
for a few weeks, it is of no consequence, but after a year or two they will be quite useless."
"and if they have to lie there ten years i will have dschemila, and her only, for my wife.
for a month, or even two months, i will rest here quietly.
then i will go and seek her afresh."
"oh, you are quite mad!
is she the only maiden in the world?
there are plenty of others better worth having than she is."
"if there are i have not seen them!
and why do you make all this fuss?
every man knows his own business best."
"why, it is you who are making all the fuss yourself --" but dschemil turned and went into the house, for he did not want to quarrel.
three months later a jew, who was travelling across the desert, came to the castle, and laid himself down under the wall to rest.
in the evening the ogre saw him there and said to him, "jew, what are you doing here?
have you anything to sell?'"
i have only some clothes," answered the jew, who was in mortal terror of the ogre.
"oh, do n't be afraid of me," said the ogre, laughing."
i shall not eat you.
indeed, i mean to go a bit of the way with you myself.'"
i am ready, gracious sir," replied the jew, rising to his feet.
"well, go straight on till you reach a town, and in that town you will find a maiden called dschemila and a young man called dschemil.
take this mirror and this comb with you, and say to dschemila, "your father, the ogre, greets you, and begs you to look at your face in this mirror, and it will appear as it was before, and to comb your hair with this comb, and it will be as formerly."
if you do not carry out my orders, i will eat you the next time we meet."
"oh, i will obey you punctually," cried the jew.
after thirty days the jew entered the gate of the town, and sat down in the first street he came to, hungry, thirsty, and very tired.
quite by chance, dschemil happened to pass by, and seeing a man sitting there, full in the glare of the sun, he stopped, and said, "get up at once, jew; you will have a sunstroke if you sit in such a place."
"ah, good sir," replied the jew, "for a whole month i have been travelling, and i am too tired to move."
"which way did you come?"
asked dschemil.
"from out there," answered the jew, pointing behind him.
"and you have been travelling for a month, you say?
well, did you see anything remarkable?"
"yes, good sir; i saw a castle, and lay down to rest under its shadow.
and an ogre woke me, and told me to come to this town, where i should find a young man called dschemil, and a girl called dschemila."
"my name is dschemil.
what does the ogre want with me?"
"he gave me some presents for dschemila.
how can i see her?"
"come with me, and you shall give them into her own hands."
so the two went together to the house of dschemil's uncle, and dschemil led the jew into his aunt's room.
"aunt!"
he cried, "this jew who is with me has come from the ogre, and has brought with him, as presents, a mirror and a comb which the ogre has sent her."
"but it may be only some wicked trick on the part of the ogre," said she.
"oh, i do n't think so," answered the young man, "give her the things."
then the maiden was called, and she came out of her hiding place, and went up to the jew, saying, "where have you come from, jew?"
"from your father the ogre."
"and what errand did he send you on?"
"he told me i was to give you this mirror and this comb, and to say "look in this mirror, and comb your hair with this comb, and both will become as they were formerly.""
and dschemila took the mirror and looked into it, and combed her hair with the comb, and she had no longer an ass's head, but the face of a beautiful maiden.
-lsb- illustration: dschemila gets rid of the ass's head -rsb- great was the joy of both mother and cousin at this wonderful sight, and the news that dschemila had returned soon spread, and the neighbours came flocking in with greetings.
"when did you come back?"
"my cousin brought me."
"why, he told us he could not find you!"
"oh, i did that on purpose," answered dschemil."
i did not want everyone to know."
then he turned to his father and his mother, his brothers and his sisters-in-law, and said, "we must set to work at once, for the wedding will be to-day."
a beautiful litter was prepared to carry the bride to her new home, but she shrank back, saying," i am afraid, lest the ogre should carry me off again."
"how can the ogre get at you when we are all here?"
they said.
"there are two thousand of us all told, and every man has his sword."
"he will manage it somehow," answered dschemila, "he is a powerful king!"
"she is right," said an old man.
"take away the litter, and let her go on foot if she is afraid."
"but it is absurd!"
exclaimed the rest; "how can the ogre get hold of her?'"
i will not go," said dschemila again.
"you do not know that monster; i do."
and while they were disputing the bridegroom arrived.
"let her alone.
she shall stay in her father's house.
after all, i can live here, and the wedding feast shall be made ready."
and so they were married at last, and died without having had a single quarrel.
-lsb- märchen und gedichte aus der stadt tripolis. -rsb-
janni and the draken once there was a man who shunned the world, and lived in the wilderness.
he owned nothing but a flock of sheep, whose milk and wool he sold, and so procured himself bread to eat; he also carried wooden spoons, and sold them.
he had a wife and one little girl, and after a long time his wife had another child.
the evening it was born the man went to the nearest village to fetch a nurse, and on the way he met a monk who begged him for a night's lodging.
this the man willingly granted, and took him home with him.
there being no one far nor near to baptize the child, the man asked the monk to do him this service, and the child was given the name of janni.
in the course of time janni's parents died, and he and his sister were left alone in the world; soon affairs went badly with them, so they determined to wander away to seek their fortune.
in packing up, the sister found a knife which the monk had left for his godson, and this she gave to her brother.
then they went on their way, taking with them the three sheep which were all that remained of their flocks.
after wandering for three days they met a man with three dogs who proposed that they should exchange animals, he taking the sheep, and they the dogs.
the brother and sister were quite pleased at this arrangement, and after the exchange was made they separated, and went their different ways.
janni and his sister in course of time came to a great castle, in which dwelt forty draken, who, when they heard that janni had come, fled forty fathoms underground.
so janni found the castle deserted, and abode there with his sister, and every day went out to hunt with the weapons the draken had left in the castle.
one day, when he was away hunting, one of the draken came up to get provisions, not knowing that there was anyone in the castle.
when he saw janni's sister he was terrified, but she told him not to be afraid, and by-and-by they fell in love with each other, for every time that janni went to hunt the sister called the drakos up.
thus they went on making love to each other till at length, unknown to janni, they got married.
then, when it was too late, the sister repented, and was afraid of janni's wrath when he found it out.
one day the drakos came to her, and said: "you must pretend to be ill, and when janni asks what ails you, and what you want, you must answer: "cherries," and when he inquires where these are to be found, you must say: "there are some in a garden a day's journey from here."
then your brother will go there, and will never come back, for there dwell three of my brothers who will look after him well."
then the sister did as the drakos advised, and next day janni set out to fetch the cherries, taking his three dogs with him.
when he came to the garden where the cherries grew he jumped off his horse, drank some water from the spring, which rose there, and fell directly into a deep sleep.
the draken came round about to eat him, but the dogs flung themselves on them and tore them in pieces, and scratched a grave in the ground with their paws, and buried the draken so that janni might not see their dead bodies.
when janni awoke, and saw his dogs all covered with blood, he believed that they had caught, somewhere, a wild beast, and was angry because they had left none of it for him.
but he plucked the cherries, and took them back to his sister.
when the drakos heard that janni had come back, he fled for fear forty fathoms underground.
and the sister ate the cherries and declared herself well again.
the next day, when janni was gone to hunt, the drakos came out, and advised the sister that she should pretend to be ill again, and when her brother asked her what she would like, she should answer "quinces," and when he inquired where these were to be found, she should say: "in a garden distant about two days" journey."
then would janni certainly be destroyed, for there dwelt six brothers of the drakos, each of whom had two heads.
the sister did as she was advised, and next day janni again set off, taking his three dogs with him.
when he came to the garden he dismounted, sat down to rest a little, and fell fast asleep.
first there came three draken round about to eat him, and when these three had been worried by the dogs, there came three others who were worried in like manner.
then the dogs again dug a grave and buried the dead draken, that their master might not see them.
when janni awoke and beheld the dogs all covered with blood, he thought, as before, that they had killed a wild beast, and was again angry with them for leaving him nothing.
but he took the quinces and brought them back to his sister, who, when she had eaten them, declared herself better.
the drakos, when he heard that janni had come back, fled for fear forty fathoms deeper underground.
next day, when janni was hunting, the drakos went to the sister and advised that she should again pretend to be ill, and should beg for some pears, which grew in a garden three days" journey from the castle.
from this quest janni would certainly never return, for there dwelt nine brothers of the drakos, each of whom had three heads.
the sister did as she was told, and next day janni, taking his three dogs with him, went to get the pears.
when he came to the garden he laid himself down to rest, and soon fell asleep.
then first came three draken to eat him, and when the dogs had worried these, six others came and fought the dogs a long time.
the noise of this combat awoke janni, and he slew the draken, and knew at last why the dogs were covered with blood.
-lsb- illustration: janni and his dogs fight the three-headed draken -rsb- after that he freed all whom the draken held prisoners, amongst others, a king's daughter.
out of gratitude she would have taken him for her husband; but he put her off, saying: "for the kindness that i have been able to do to you, you shall receive in this castle all the blind and lame who pass this way."
the princess promised him to do so, and on his departure gave him a ring.
so janni plucked the pears and took them to his sister, who, when she had eaten them, declared she felt better.
when, however, the drakos heard that janni had come back yet a third time safe and sound, he fled for fright forty fathoms deeper underground; and, next day, when janni was away hunting, he crept out and said to the sister: "now are we indeed both lost, unless you find out from him wherein his strength lies, and then between us we will contrive to do away with him."
when, therefore, janni had come back from hunting, and sat at evening with his sister by the fire, she begged him to tell her wherein lay his strength, and he answered: "it lies in my two fingers; if these are bound together then all my strength disappears."
"that i will not believe," said the sister, "unless i see it for myself."
then he let her tie his fingers together with a thread, and immediately he became powerless.
then the sister called up the drakos, who, when he had come forth, tore out janni's eyes, gave them to his dogs to eat, and threw him into a dry well.
now it happened that some travellers, going to draw water from this well, heard janni groaning at the bottom.
they came near, and asked him where he was, and he begged them to draw him up from the well, for he was a poor unfortunate man.
the travellers let a rope down and drew him up to daylight.
it was not till then that he first became aware that he was blind, and he begged the travellers to lead him to the country of the king whose daughter he had freed, and they would be well repaid for their trouble.
when they had brought him there he sent to beg the princess to come to him; but she did not recognise him till he had shown her the ring she had given him.
then she remembered him, and took him with her into the castle.
when she learnt what had befallen him she called together all the sorceresses in the country in order that they should tell her where the eyes were.
at last she found one who declared that she knew where they were, and that she could restore them.
this sorceress then went straight to the castle where dwelt the sister and the drakos, and gave something to the dogs to eat which caused the eyes to reappear.
she took them with her and put them back in janni's head, so that he saw as well as before.
then he returned to the castle of the drakos, whom he slew as well as his sister; and, taking his dogs with him, went back to the princess and they were immediately married.
the partnership of the thief and the liar.
there was once upon a time a thief, who, being out of a job, was wandering by himself up and down the seashore.
as he walked he passed a man who was standing still, looking at the waves."
i wonder," said the thief, addressing the stranger, "if you have ever seen a stone swimming?"
"most certainly i have," replied the other man, "and, what is more, i saw the same stone jump out of the water and fly through the air."
"this is capital," replied the thief.
"you and i must go into partnership.
we shall certainly make our fortunes.
let us start together for the palace of the king of the neighbouring country.
when we get there, i will go into his presence alone, and will tell him the most startling thing i can invent.
then you must follow and back up my lie."
having agreed to do this, they set out on their travels.
after several days" journeying, they reached the town where the king's palace was, and here they parted for a few hours, while the thief sought an interview with the king, and begged his majesty to give him a glass of beer.
"that is impossible," said the king, "as this year there has been a failure of all the crops, and of the hops and the vines; so we have neither wine nor beer in the whole kingdom."
"how extraordinary!"
answered the thief."
i have just come from a country where the crops were so fine that i saw twelve barrels of beer made out of one branch of hops.'"
i bet you three hundred florins that is not true," answered the king.
"and i bet you three hundred florins it is true," replied the thief.
then each staked his three hundred florins, and the king said he would decide the question by sending a servant into that country to see if it was true.
so the servant set out on horseback, and on the way he met a man, and he asked him whence he came.
and the man told him that he came from the self-same country to which the servant was at that moment bound.
"if that is the case," said the servant, "you can tell me how high the hops grow in your country, and how many barrels of beer can be brewed from one branch?'"
i ca n't tell you that," answered the man, "but i happened to be present when the hops were being gathered in, and i saw that it took three men with axes three days to cut down one branch."
then the servant thought that he might save himself a long journey; so he gave the man ten florins, and told him he must repeat to the king what he had just told him.
and when they got back to the palace, they came together into the king's presence.
and the king asked him: "well, is it true about the hops?"
"yes, sire, it is," answered the servant; "and here is a man i have brought with me from the country to confirm the tale."
so the king paid the thief the three hundred florins; and the partners once more set out together in search of adventures.
as they journeyed, the thief said to his comrade: "i will now go to another king, and will tell him something still more startling; and you must follow and back up my lie, and we shall get some money out of him; just see if we do n't."
when they reached the next kingdom, the thief presented himself to the king, and requested him to give him a cauliflower.
and the king answered: "owing to a blight among the vegetables we have no cauliflower."
"that is strange," answered the thief."
i have just come from a country where it grows so well that one head of cauliflower filled twelve water-tubs.'"
i do n't believe it," answered the king."
i bet you six hundred florins it is true," replied the thief.
"and i bet you six hundred florins it is not true," answered the king.
and he sent for a servant, and ordered him to start at once for the country whence the thief had come, to find out if his story of the cauliflower was true.
on his journey the servant met with a man.
stopping his horse he asked him where he came from, and the man replied that he came from the country to which the other was travelling.
"if that is the case," said the servant, "you can tell me to what size cauliflower grows in your country?
is it so large that one head fills twelve water-tubs?'"
i have not seen that," answered the man.
"but i saw twelve waggons, drawn by twelve horses, carrying one head of cauliflower to the market."
and the servant answered: "here are ten florins for you, my man, for you have saved me a long journey.
come with me now, and tell the king what you have just told me."
"all right," said the man, and they went together to the palace; and when the king asked the servant if he had found out the truth about the cauliflower, the servant replied: "sire, all that you heard was perfectly true; here is a man from the country who will tell you so."
so the king had to pay the thief the six hundred florins.
and the two partners set out once more on their travels, with their nine hundred florins.
when they reached the country of the neighbouring king, the thief entered the royal presence, and began conversation by asking if his majesty knew that in an adjacent kingdom there was a town with a church steeple on which a bird had alighted, and that the steeple was so high, and the bird's beak so long, that it had pecked the stars till some of them fell out of the sky."
i do n't believe it," said the king.
"nevertheless i am prepared to bet twelve hundred florins that it is true," answered the thief.
"and i bet twelve hundred florins that it is a lie," replied the king.
and he straightway sent a servant into the neighbouring country to find out the truth.
as he rode, the servant met a man coming in the opposite direction.
so he hailed him and asked him where he came from.
and the man replied that he came out of the very town to which the man was bound.
then the servant asked him if the story they had heard about the bird with the long beak was true."
i do n't know about that," answered the man, "as i have never seen the bird; but i once saw twelve men shoving all their might and main with brooms to push a monster egg into a cellar."
-lsb- illustration: "i once saw" 12 men shoving all their might and main with brooms to push a monster egg into a cellar -rsb- "that is capital," answered the servant, presenting the man with ten florins.
"come and tell your tale to the king, and you will save me a long journey."
so, when the story was repeated to the king, there was nothing for him to do but to pay the thief the twelve hundred florins.
then the two partners set out again with their ill-gotten gains, which they proceeded to divide into two equal shares; but the thief kept back three of the florins that belonged to the liar's half of the booty.
shortly afterwards they each married, and settled down in homes of their own with their wives.
one day the liar discovered that he had been done out of three florins by his partner, so he went to his house and demanded them from him.
"come next saturday, and i will give them to you," answered the thief.
but as he had no intention of giving the liar the money, when saturday morning came he stretched himself out stiff and stark upon the bed, and told his wife she was to say he was dead.
so the wife rubbed her eyes with an onion, and when the liar appeared at the door, she met him in tears, and told him that as her husband was dead he could not be paid the three florins.
but the liar, who knew his partner's tricks, instantly suspected the truth, and said: "as he has not paid me, i will pay him out with three good lashes of my riding whip."
at these words the thief sprang to his feet, and, appearing at the door, promised his partner that if he would return the following saturday he would pay him.
so the liar went away satisfied with this promise.
but when saturday morning came the thief got up early and hid himself under a truss of hay in the hay-loft.
when the liar appeared to demand his three florins, the wife met him with tears in her eyes, and told him that her husband was dead.
"where have you buried him?"
asked the liar.
"in the hay-loft," answered the wife.
"then i will go there, and take away some hay in payment of his debt," said the liar.
and proceeding to the hay-loft, he began to toss about the hay with a pitch-fork, prodding it into the trusses of hay, till, in terror of his life, the thief crept out and promised his partner to pay him the three florins on the following saturday.
when the day came he got up at sunrise, and going down into the crypt of a neighbouring chapel, stretched himself out quite still and stiff in an old stone coffin.
but the liar, who was quite as clever as his partner, very soon bethought him of the crypt, and set out for the chapel, confident that he would shortly discover the hiding-place of his friend.
he had just entered the crypt, and his eyes were not yet accustomed to the darkness, when he heard the sound of whispering at the grated windows.
listening intently, he overheard the plotting of a band of robbers, who had brought their treasure to the crypt, meaning to hide it there, while they set out on fresh adventures.
all the time they were speaking they were removing the bars from the window, and in another minute they would all have entered the crypt, and discovered the liar.
quick as thought he wound his mantle round him and placed himself, standing stiff and erect, in a niche in the wall, so that in the dim light he looked just like an old stone statue.
as soon as the robbers entered the crypt, they set about the work of dividing their treasure.
now, there were twelve robbers, but by mistake the chief of the band divided the gold into thirteen heaps.
when he saw his mistake he said they had not time to count it all over again, but that the thirteenth heap should belong to whoever among them could strike off the head of the old stone statue in the niche with one stroke.
with these words he took up an axe, and approached the niche where the liar was standing.
but, just as he had waved the axe over his head ready to strike, a voice was heard from the stone coffin saying, in sepulchral tones: "clear out of this, or the dead will arise from their coffins, and the statues will descend from the walls, and you will be driven out more dead than alive."
and with a bound the thief jumped out of his coffin and the liar from his niche, and the robbers were so terrified that they ran helter-skelter out of the crypt, leaving all their gold behind them, and vowing that they would never put foot inside the haunted place again.
so the partners divided the gold between them, and carried it to their homes; and history tells us no more about them.
fortunatus and his purse once upon a time there lived in the city of famagosta, in the island of cyprus, a rich man called theodorus.
he ought to have been the happiest person in the whole world, as he had all he could wish for, and a wife and little son whom he loved dearly; but unluckily, after a short time he always grew tired of everything, and had to seek new pleasures.
when people are made like this the end is generally the same, and before fortunatus -lrb- for that was the boy's name -rrb- was ten years old, his father had spent all his money and had not a farthing left.
but though theodorus had been so foolish he was not quite without sense, and set about getting work at once.
his wife, too, instead of reproaching him sent away the servants and sold their fine horses, and did all the work of the house herself, even washing the clothes of her husband and child.
thus time passed till fortunatus was sixteen.
one day when they were sitting at supper, the boy said to theodorus, "father, why do you look so sad?
tell me what is wrong, and perhaps i can help you."
"ah, my son, i have reason enough to be sad; but for me you would now have been enjoying every kind of pleasure, instead of being buried in this tiny house."
"oh, do not let that trouble you," replied fortunatus, "it is time i made some money for myself.
to be sure i have never been taught any trade.
still there must be something i can do.
i will go and walk on the seashore and think about it."
very soon -- sooner than he expected -- a chance came, and fortunatus, like a wise boy, seized on it at once.
the post offered him was that of page to the earl of flanders, and as the earl's daughter was just going to be married, splendid festivities were held in her honour, and at some of the tilting matches fortunatus was lucky enough to win the prize.
these prizes, together with presents from the lords and ladies of the court, who liked him for his pleasant ways, made fortunatus feel quite a rich man.
but though his head was not turned by the notice taken of him, it excited the envy of some of the other pages about the court, and one of them, called robert, invented a plot to move fortunatus out of his way.
so he told the young man that the earl had taken a dislike to him and meant to kill him; fortunatus believed the story, and packing up his fine clothes and money, slipped away before dawn.
he went to a great many big towns and lived well, and as he was generous and not wiser than most youths of his age, he very soon found himself penniless.
like his father, he then began to think of work, and tramped half over brittany in search of it.
nobody seemed to want him, and he wandered about from one place to another, till he found himself in a dense wood, without any paths, and not much light.
here he spent two whole days, with nothing to eat and very little water to drink, going first in one direction and then in another, but never being able to find his way out.
during the first night he slept soundly, and was too tired to fear either man or beast, but when darkness came on for the second time, and growls were heard in the distance, he grew frightened and looked about for a high tree out of reach of his enemies.
hardly had he settled himself comfortably in one of the forked branches, when a lion walked up to a spring that burst from a rock close to the tree, and crouching down drank greedily.
this was bad enough, but after all, lions do not climb trees, and as long as fortunatus stayed up on his perch, he was quite safe.
but no sooner was the lion out of sight, than his place was taken by a bear, and bears, as fortunatus knew very well, are tree-climbers.
his heart beat fast, and not without reason, for as the bear turned away he looked up and saw fortunatus!
now in those days every young man carried a sword slung to his belt, and it was a fashion that came in very handily for fortunatus.
he drew his sword, and when the bear got within a yard of him he made a fierce lunge forward.
the bear, wild with pain, tried to spring, but the bough he was standing on broke with his weight, and he fell heavily to the ground.
then fortunatus descended from his tree -lrb- first taking good care to see no other wild animals were in sight -rrb- and killed him with a single blow.
he was just thinking he would light a fire and make a hearty dinner off bear's flesh, which is not at all bad eating, when he beheld a beautiful lady standing by his side leaning on a wheel, and her eyes hidden by a bandage."
i am dame fortune," she said, "and i have a gift for you.
shall it be wisdom, strength, long life, riches, health, or beauty?
think well, and tell me what you will have."
but fortunatus, who had proved the truth of the proverb that "it's ill thinking on an empty stomach," answered quickly, "good lady, let me have riches in such plenty that i may never again be as hungry as i am now."
and the lady held out a purse and told him he had only to put his hand into it, and he and his children would always find ten pieces of gold.
but when they were dead it would be a magic purse no longer.
-lsb- illustration: the gift-of-fortune -rsb- at this news fortunatus was beside himself with joy, and could hardly find words to thank the lady.
but she told him that the best thing he could do was to find his way out of the wood, and before bidding him farewell pointed out which path he should take.
he walked along it as fast as his weakness would let him, until a welcome light at a little distance showed him that a house was near.
it turned out to be an inn, but before entering fortunatus thought he had better make sure of the truth of what the lady had told him, and took out the purse and looked inside.
sure enough there were the ten pieces of gold, shining brightly.
then fortunatus walked boldly up to the inn, and ordered them to get ready a good supper at once, as he was very hungry, and to bring him the best wine in the house.
and he seemed to care so little what he spent that everybody thought he was a great lord, and vied with each other who should run quickest when he called.
after a night passed in a soft bed, fortunatus felt so much better that he asked the landlord if he could find him some men-servants, and tell him where any good horses were to be got.
the next thing was to provide himself with smart clothes, and then to take a big house where he could give great feasts to the nobles and beautiful ladies who lived in palaces round about.
in this manner a whole year soon slipped away, and fortunatus was so busy amusing himself that he never once remembered his parents whom he had left behind in cyprus.
but though he was thoughtless, he was not bad-hearted.
as soon as their existence crossed his mind, he set about making preparations to visit them, and as he was not fond of being alone he looked round for some one older and wiser than himself to travel with him.
it was not long before he had the good luck to come across an old man who had left his wife and children in a far country many years before, when he went out into the world to seek the fortune which he never found.
he agreed to accompany fortunatus back to cyprus, but only on condition he should first be allowed to return for a few weeks to his own home before venturing to set sail for an island so strange and distant.
fortunatus agreed to his proposal, and as he was always fond of anything new, said that he would go with him.
the journey was long, and they had to cross many large rivers, and climb over high mountains, and find their way through thick woods, before they reached at length the old man's castle.
his wife and children had almost given up hopes of seeing him again, and crowded eagerly round him.
indeed, it did not take fortunatus five minutes to fall in love with the youngest daughter, the most beautiful creature in the whole world, whose name was cassandra.
"give her to me for my wife," he said to the old man, "and let us all go together to famagosta."
so a ship was bought big enough to hold fortunatus, the old man and his wife, and their ten children -- five of them sons and five daughters.
and the day before they sailed the wedding was celebrated with magnificent rejoicings, and everybody thought that fortunatus must certainly be a prince in disguise.
but when they reached cyprus, he learned to his sorrow that both his father and mother were dead, and for some time he shut himself up in his house and would see nobody, full of shame at having forgotten them all these years.
then he begged that the old man and his wife would remain with him, and take the place of his parents.
for twelve years fortunatus and cassandra and their two little boys lived happily in famagosta.
they had a beautiful house and everything they could possibly want, and when cassandra's sisters married the purse provided them each with a fortune.
but at last fortunatus grew tired of staying at home, and thought he should like to go out and see the world again.
cassandra shed many tears at first when he told her of his wishes, and he had a great deal of trouble to persuade her to give her consent.
but on his promising to return at the end of two years she agreed to let him go.
before he went away he showed her three chests of gold, which stood in a room with an iron door, and walls twelve feet thick.
"if anything should happen to me," he said, "and i should never come back, keep one of the chests for yourself, and give the others to our two sons."
then he embraced them all and took ship for alexandria.
the wind was fair and in a few days they entered the harbour, where fortunatus was informed by a man whom he met on landing, that if he wished to be well received in the town, he must begin by making a handsome present to the sultan.
"that is easily done," said fortunatus, and went into a goldsmith's shop, where he bought a large gold cup, which cost five thousand pounds.
this gift so pleased the sultan that he ordered a hundred casks of spices to be given to fortunatus; fortunatus put them on board his ship, and commanded the captain to return to cyprus and deliver them to his wife, cassandra.
he next obtained an audience of the sultan, and begged permission to travel through the country, which the sultan readily gave him, adding some letters to the rulers of other lands which fortunatus might wish to visit.
filled with delight at feeling himself free to roam through the world once more, fortunatus set out on his journey without losing a day.
from court to court he went, astonishing everyone by the magnificence of his dress and the splendour of his presents.
at length he grew as tired of wandering as he had been of staying at home, and returned to alexandria, where he found the same ship that had brought him from cyprus lying in the harbour.
of course the first thing he did was to pay his respects to the sultan, who was eager to hear about his adventures.
when fortunatus had told them all, the sultan observed: "well, you have seen many wonderful things, but i have something to show you more wonderful still;" and he led him into a room where precious stones lay heaped against the walls.
fortunatus" eyes were quite dazzled, but the sultan went on without pausing and opened a door at the farther end.
as far as fortunatus could see, the cupboard was quite bare, except for a little red cap, such as soldiers wear in turkey.
"look at this," said the sultan.
"but there is nothing very valuable about it," answered fortunatus.
"i've seen a dozen better caps than that, this very day."
"ah," said the sultan, "you do not know what you are talking about.
whoever puts this cap on his head and wishes himself in any place, will find himself there in a moment."
"but who made it?"
asked fortunatus.
"that i can not tell you," replied the sultan.
"is it very heavy to wear?"
asked fortunatus.
"no, quite light," replied the sultan, "just feel it."
fortunatus took the cap and put it on his head, and then, without thinking, wished himself back in the ship that was starting for famagosta.
in a second he was standing at the prow, while the anchor was being weighed, and while the sultan was repenting of his folly in allowing fortunatus to try on the cap, the vessel was making fast for cyprus.
when it arrived, fortunatus found his wife and children well, but the two old people were dead and buried.
his sons had grown tall and strong, but unlike their father had no wish to see the world, and found their chief pleasure in hunting and tilting.
in the main, fortunatus was content to stay quietly at home, and if a restless fit did seize upon him, he was able to go away for a few hours without being missed, thanks to the cap, which he never sent back to the sultan.
by-and-by he grew old, and feeling that he had not many days to live, he sent for his two sons, and showing them the purse and cap, he said to them: "never part with these precious possessions.
they are worth more than all the gold and lands i leave behind me.
but never tell their secret, even to your wife or dearest friend.
that purse has served me well for forty years, and no one knows whence i got my riches."
then he died and was buried by his wife cassandra, and he was mourned in famagosta for many years.
the goat-faced girl there was once upon a time a peasant called masaniello who had twelve daughters.
they were exactly like the steps of a staircase, for there was just a year between each sister.
it was all the poor man could do to bring up such a large family, and in order to provide food for them he used to dig in the fields all day long.
in spite of his hard work he only just succeeded in keeping the wolf from the door, and the poor little girls often went hungry to bed.
one day, when masaniello was working at the foot of a high mountain, he came upon the mouth of a cave which was so dark and gloomy that even the sun seemed afraid to enter it.
suddenly a huge green lizard appeared from the inside and stood before masaniello, who nearly went out of his mind with terror, for the beast was as big as a crocodile and quite as fierce looking.
but the lizard sat down beside him in the most friendly manner, and said: "do n't be afraid, my good man, i am not going to hurt you; on the contrary, i am most anxious to help you."
when the peasant heard these words he knelt before the lizard and said: "dear lady, for i know not what to call you, i am in your power; but i beg of you to be merciful, for i have twelve wretched little daughters at home who are dependent on me."
"that's the very reason why i have come to you," replied the lizard.
"bring me your youngest daughter to-morrow morning.
i promise to bring her up as if she were my own child, and to look upon her as the apple of my eye."
when masaniello heard her words he was very unhappy, because he felt sure, from the lizard's wanting one of his daughters, the youngest and tenderest too, that the poor little girl would only serve as dessert for the terrible creature's supper.
at the same time he said to himself, "if i refuse her request, she will certainly eat me up on the spot.
if i give her what she asks she does indeed take part of myself, but if i refuse she will take the whole of me.
what am i to do, and how in the world am i to get out of the difficulty?"
as he kept muttering to himself the lizard said, "make up your mind to do as i tell you at once.
i desire to have your youngest daughter, and if you wo n't comply with my wish, i can only say it will be the worse for you."
seeing that there was nothing else to be done, masaniello set off for his home, and arrived there looking so white and wretched that his wife asked him at once: "what has happened to you, my dear husband?
have you quarrelled with anyone, or has the poor donkey fallen down?"
"neither the one nor the other," answered her husband, "but something far worse than either.
a terrible lizard has nearly frightened me out of my senses, for she threatened that if i did not give her our youngest daughter, she would make me repent it.
my head is going round like a mill-wheel, and i do n't know what to do.
i am indeed between the devil and the deep sea.
you know how dearly i love renzolla, and yet, if i fail to bring her to the lizard to-morrow morning, i must say farewell to life.
do advise me what to do."
when his wife had heard all he had to say, she said to him: "how do you know, my dear husband, that the lizard is really our enemy?
may she not be a friend in disguise?
and your meeting with her may be the beginning of better things and the end of all our misery.
therefore go and take the child to her, for my heart tells me that you will never repent doing so."
masaniello was much comforted by her words, and next morning as soon as it was light he took his little daughter by the hand and led her to the cave.
the lizard, who was awaiting the peasant's arrival, came forward to meet him, and taking the girl by the hand, she gave the father a sack full of gold, and said: "go and marry your other daughters, and give them dowries with this gold, and be of good cheer, for renzolla will have both father and mother in me; it is a great piece of luck for her that she has fallen into my hands."
-lsb- illustration: the lizard takes charge of renzolla -rsb- masaniello, quite overcome with gratitude, thanked the lizard, and returned home to his wife.
as soon as it was known how rich the peasant had become, suitors for the hands of his daughters were not wanting, and very soon he married them all off; and even then there was enough gold left to keep himself and his wife in comfort and plenty all their days.
as soon as the lizard was left alone with renzolla, she changed the cave into a beautiful palace, and led the girl inside.
here she brought her up like a little princess, and the child wanted for nothing.
she gave her sumptuous food to eat, beautiful clothes to wear, and a thousand servants to wait on her.
now, it happened, one day, that the king of the country was hunting in a wood close to the palace, and was overtaken by the dark.
seeing a light shining in the palace he sent one of his servants to ask if he could get a night's lodging there.
when the page knocked at the door the lizard changed herself into a beautiful woman, and opened it herself.
when she heard the king's request she sent him a message to say that she would be delighted to see him, and give him all he wanted.
the king, on hearing this kind invitation, instantly betook himself to the palace, where he was received in the most hospitable manner.
a hundred pages with torches came to meet him, a hundred more waited on him at table, and another hundred waved big fans in the air to keep the flies from him.
renzolla herself poured out the wine for him, and, so gracefully did she do it, that his majesty could not take his eyes off her.
when the meal was finished and the table cleared, the king retired to sleep, and renzolla drew the shoes from his feet, at the same time drawing his heart from his breast.
so desperately had he fallen in love with her, that he called the fairy to him, and asked her for renzolla's hand in marriage.
as the kind fairy had only the girl's welfare at heart, she willingly gave her consent, and not her consent only, but a wedding portion of seven thousand golden guineas.
the king, full of delight over his good fortune, prepared to take his departure, accompanied by renzolla, who never so much as thanked the fairy for all she had done for her.
when the fairy saw such a base want of gratitude she determined to punish the girl, and, cursing her, she turned her face into a goat's head.
in a moment renzolla's pretty mouth stretched out into a snout, with a beard a yard long at the end of it, her cheeks sank in, and her shining plaits of hair changed into two sharp horns.
when the king turned round and saw her he thought he must have taken leave of his senses.
he burst into tears, and cried out: "where is the hair that bound me so tightly, where are the eyes that pierced through my heart, and where are the lips i kissed?
am i to be tied to a goat all my life?
no, no!
nothing will induce me to become the laughing-stock of my subjects for the sake of a goat-faced girl!"
when they reached his own country he shut renzolla up in a little turret chamber of his palace, with a waiting-maid, and gave each of them ten bundles of flax to spin, telling them that their task must be finished by the end of the week.
the maid, obedient to the king's commands, set at once to work and combed out the flax, wound it round the spindle, and sat spinning at her wheel so diligently that her work was quite done by saturday evening.
but renzolla, who had been spoilt and petted in the fairy's house, and was quite unaware of the change that had taken place in her appearance, threw the flax out of the window and said: "what is the king thinking of that he should give me this work to do?
if he wants shirts he can buy them.
it is n't even as if he had picked me out of the gutter, for he ought to remember that i brought him seven thousand golden guineas as my wedding portion, and that i am his wife and not his slave.
he must be mad to treat me like this."
all the same, when saturday evening came, and she saw that the waiting-maid had finished her task, she took fright lest she should be punished for her idleness.
so she hurried off to the palace of the fairy, and confided all her woes to her.
the fairy embraced her tenderly, and gave her a sack full of spun flax, in order that she might show it to the king, and let him see what a good worker she was.
renzolla took the sack without one word of thanks, and returned to the palace, leaving the kind fairy very indignant over her want of gratitude.
when the king saw the flax all spun, he gave renzolla and the waiting-maid each a little dog, and told them to look after the animals and train them carefully.
the waiting-maid brought hers up with the greatest possible care, and treated it almost as if it were her son.
but renzolla said: "i do n't know what to think.
have i come among a lot of lunatics?
does the king imagine that i am going to comb and feed a dog with my own hands?"
with these words she opened the window and threw the poor little beast out, and he fell on the ground as dead as a stone.
when a few months had passed the king sent a message to say he would like to see how the dogs were getting on.
renzolla, who felt very uncomfortable in her mind at this request, hurried off once more to the fairy.
this time she found an old man at the door of the fairy's palace, who said to her: "who are you, and what do you want?"
when renzolla heard his question she answered angrily: "do n't you know me, old goat-beard?
and how dare you address me in such a way?"
"the pot ca n't call the kettle black," answered the old man, "for it is not i, but you who have a goat's head.
just wait a moment, you ungrateful wretch, and i will show you to what a pass your want of gratitude has brought you."
with these words he hurried away, and returned with a mirror, which he held up before renzolla.
at the sight of her ugly, hairy face, the girl nearly fainted with horror, and she broke into loud sobs at seeing her countenance so changed.
-lsb- illustration: renzolla sees her face in the mirror -rsb- then the old man said: "you must remember, renzolla, that you are a peasant's daughter, and that the fairy turned you into a queen; but you were ungrateful, and never as much as thanked her for all she had done for you.
therefore she has determined to punish you.
but if you wish to lose your long white beard, throw yourself at the fairy's feet and implore her to forgive you.
she has a tender heart, and will, perhaps, take pity on you."
renzolla, who was really sorry for her conduct, took the old man's advice, and the fairy not only gave her back her former face, but she dressed her in a gold embroidered dress, presented her with a beautiful carriage, and brought her back, accompanied by a host of servants, to her husband.
when the king saw her looking as beautiful as ever, he fell in love with her once more, and bitterly repented having caused her so much suffering.
so renzolla lived happily ever afterwards, for she loved her husband, honoured the fairy, and was grateful to the old man for having told her the truth.
-lsb- from the italian, kletke. -rsb-
what came of picking flowers there was once a woman who had three daughters whom she loved very much.
one day the eldest was walking in a water-meadow, when she saw a pink growing in the stream.
she stooped to pick the flower, but her hand had scarcely touched it, when she vanished altogether.
the next morning the second sister went out into the meadow, to see if she could find any traces of the lost girl, and as a branch of lovely roses lay trailing across her path, she bent down to move it away, and in so doing, could not resist plucking one of the roses.
in a moment she too had disappeared.
wondering what could have become of her two sisters, the youngest followed in their footsteps, and fell a victim to a branch of delicious white jessamine.
so the old woman was left without any daughters at all.
she wept, and wept, and wept, all day and all night, and went on weeping so long, that her son, who had been a little boy when his sisters disappeared, grew up to be a tall youth.
then one night he asked his mother to tell him what was the matter.
when he had heard the whole story, he said, "give me your blessing, mother, and i will go and search the world till i find them."
so he set forth, and after he had travelled several miles without any adventures, he came upon three big boys fighting in the road.
he stopped and inquired what they were fighting about, and one of them answered: "my lord!
our father left to us, when he died, a pair of boots, a key, and a cap.
whoever puts on the boots and wishes himself in any place, will find himself there.
the key will open every door in the world, and with the cap on your head no one can see you.
now our eldest brother wants to have all three things for himself, and we wish to draw lots for them."
"oh, that is easily settled," said the youth."
i will throw this stone as far as i can, and the one who picks it up first, shall have the three things."
so he took the stone and flung it, and while the three brothers were running after it, he drew hastily on the boots, and said, "boots, take me to the place where i shall find my eldest sister."
the next moment the young man was standing on a steep mountain before the gates of a strong castle guarded by bolts and bars and iron chains.
the key, which he had not forgotten to put in his pocket, opened the doors one by one, and he walked through a number of halls and corridors, till he met a beautiful and richly-dressed young lady who started back in surprise at the sight of him, and exclaimed, "oh, sir, how did you contrive to get in here?"
the young man replied that he was her brother, and told her by what means he had been able to pass through the doors.
in return, she told him how happy she was, except for one thing, and that was, her husband lay under a spell, and could never break it till there should be put to death a man who could not die.
they talked together for a long time, and then the lady said he had better leave her as she expected her husband back at any moment, and he might not like him to be there; but the young man assured her she need not be afraid, as he had with him a cap which would make him invisible.
they were still deep in conversation when the door suddenly opened, and a bird flew in, but he saw nothing unusual, for, at the first noise, the youth had put on his cap.
the lady jumped up and brought a large golden basin, into which the bird flew, reappearing directly after as a handsome man.
turning to his wife, he cried," i am sure someone is in the room!"
she got frightened, and declared that she was quite alone, but her husband persisted, and in the end she had to confess the truth.
-lsb- illustration: what came of picking jessamine -rsb- "but if he is really your brother, why did you hide him?"
asked he."
i believe you are telling me a lie, and if he comes back i shall kill him!"
at this the youth took off his cap, and came forward.
then the husband saw that he was indeed so like his wife that he doubted her word no longer, and embraced his brother-in-law with delight.
drawing a feather from his bird's skin, he said, "if you are in danger and cry, "come and help me, king of the birds," everything will go well with you."
the young man thanked him and went away, and after he had left the castle he told the boots that they must take him to the place where his second sister was living.
as before, he found himself at the gates of a huge castle, and within was his second sister, very happy with her husband, who loved her dearly, but longing for the moment when he should be set free from the spell that kept him half his life a fish.
when he arrived and had been introduced by his wife to her brother, he welcomed him warmly, and gave him a fish-scale, saying, "if you are in danger, call to me, "come and help me, king of the fishes," and everything will go well with you."
the young man thanked him and took his leave, and when he was outside the gates he told the boots to take him to the place where his youngest sister lived.
the boots carried him to a dark cavern, with steps of iron leading up to it.
inside she sat, weeping and sobbing, and as she had done nothing else the whole time she had been there, the poor girl had grown very thin.
when she saw a man standing before her, she sprang to her feet and exclaimed, "oh, whoever you are, save me and take me from this horrible place!"
then he told her who he was, and how he had seen her sisters, whose happiness was spoilt by the spell under which both their husbands lay, and she, in turn, related her story.
she had been carried off in the water-meadow by a horrible monster, who wanted to make her marry him by force, and had kept her a prisoner all these years because she would not submit to his will.
every day he came to beg her to consent to his wishes, and to remind her that there was no hope of her being set free, as he was the most constant man in the world, and besides that he could never die.
at these words the youth remembered his two enchanted brothers-in-law, and he advised his sister to promise to marry the old man, if he would tell her why he could never die.
suddenly everything began to tremble, as if it was shaken by a whirlwind, and the old man entered, and flinging himself at the feet of the girl, he said: "are you still determined never to marry me?
if so you will have to sit there weeping till the end of the world, for i shall always be faithful to my wish to marry you!"
"well, i will marry you," she said, "if you will tell me why it is that you can never die."
then the old man burst into peals of laughter.
"ah, ah, ah!
you are thinking how you would be able to kill me?
well, to do that, you would have to find an iron casket which lies at the bottom of the sea, and has a white dove inside, and then you would have to find the egg which the dove laid, and bring it here, and dash it against my head."
and he laughed again in his certainty that no one had ever got down to the bottom of the sea, and that if they did, they would never find the casket, or be able to open it.
when he could speak once more, he said, "now you will be obliged to marry me, as you know my secret."
but she begged so hard that the wedding might be put off for three days, that he consented, and went away rejoicing at his victory.
when he had disappeared, the brother took off the cap which had kept him invisible all this time, and told his sister not to lose heart as he hoped in three days she would be free.
then he drew on his boots, and wished himself at the seashore, and there he was directly.
drawing out the fish-scale, he cried, "come and help me, king of the fishes!"
and his brother-in-law swam up, and asked what he could do.
the young man related the story, and when he had finished his listener summoned all the fishes to his presence.
the last to arrive was a little sardine, who apologised for being so late, but said she had hurt herself by knocking her head against an iron casket that lay in the bottom of the sea.
the king ordered several of the largest and strongest of his subjects to take the little sardine as a guide, and bring him the iron casket.
they soon returned with the box placed across their backs and laid it down before him.
then the youth produced the key and said, "key, open that box!"
and the key opened it, and though they were all crowding round, ready to catch it, the white dove within flew away.
-lsb- illustration: how the white dove escaped -rsb- it was useless to go after it, and for a moment the young man's heart sank.
the next minute, however, he remembered that he had still his feather, and drew it out crying, "come to me, king of the birds!"
and a rushing noise was heard, and the king of the birds perched on his shoulder, and asked what he could do to help him.
his brother-in-law told him the whole story, and when he had finished the king of the birds commanded all his subjects to hasten to his presence.
in an instant the air was dark with birds of all sizes, and at the very last came the white dove, apologising for being so late by saying that an old friend had arrived at his nest, and he had been obliged to give him some dinner.
the king of the birds ordered some of them to show the young man the white dove's nest, and when they reached it, there lay the egg which was to break the spell and set them all free.
when it was safely in his pocket, he told the boots to carry him straight to the cavern where his youngest sister sat awaiting him.
now it was already far on into the third day, which the old man had fixed for the wedding, and when the youth reached the cavern with his cap on his head, he found the monster there, urging the girl to keep her word and let the marriage take place at once.
at a sign from her brother she sat down and invited the old monster to lay his head on her lap.
he did so with delight, and her brother standing behind her back passed her the egg unseen.
she took it, and dashed it straight at the horrible head, and the monster started, and with a groan that people took for the rumblings of an earthquake, he turned over and died.
as the breath went out of his body the husbands of the two eldest daughters resumed their proper shapes, and, sending for their mother-in-law, whose sorrow was so unexpectedly turned into joy, they had a great feast, and the youngest sister was rich to the end of her days with the treasures she found in the cave, collected by the monster.
-lsb- from the portuguese. -rsb-
the story of bensurdatu there was once a king and a queen who had three wonderfully beautiful daughters, and their one thought, from morning till night, was how they could make the girls happy.
one day the princesses said to the king, "dear father, we want so much to have a picnic, and eat our dinner in the country."
"very well, dear children, let us have a picnic by all means," answered he, and gave orders that everything should be got ready.
when luncheon was prepared it was put into a cart, and the royal family stepped into a carriage and drove right away into the country.
after a few miles they reached a house and garden belonging to the king, and close by was their favourite place for lunch.
the drive had made them very hungry, and they ate with a hearty appetite, till almost all the food had disappeared.
when they had quite done, they said to their parents: "now we should like to wander about the garden a little, but when you want to go home, just call to us."
and they ran off, laughing, down a green glade, which led to the garden.
but no sooner had they stepped across the fence, than a dark cloud came down and covered them, and prevented them seeing whither they were going.
-lsb- illustration: now the three princesses were lost -rsb- meanwhile the king and queen sat lazily among the heather, and an hour or two slipped away.
the sun was dropping towards the horizon, and they began to think it was time to go home.
so they called to their daughters and called again, but no one answered them.
frightened at the silence, they searched every corner of the garden, the house, and the neighbouring wood, but no trace of the girls was to be found anywhere.
the earth seemed to have swallowed them up.
the poor parents were in despair.
the queen wept all the way home, and for many days after, and the king issued a proclamation that whoever should bring back his lost daughters should have one of them to wife, and should, after his death, reign in his stead.
now two young generals were at that time living at the court, and when they heard the king's declaration, they said one to the other: "let us go in search of them; perhaps we shall be the lucky persons."
and they set out, each mounted on a strong horse, taking with them a change of raiment and some money.
but though they inquired at every village they rode through, they could hear nothing of the princesses, and by-and-by their money was all spent, and they were forced to sell their horses, or give up the search.
even this money only lasted a little while longer, and nothing but their clothes lay between them and starvation.
they sold the spare garments that were bound on their saddles, and went in the coats they stood up in to the inn, to beg for some food, as they were really starving.
when, however, they had to pay for what they had eaten and drank, they said to the host: "we have no money, and naught but the clothes we stand up in.
take these, and give us instead some old rags, and let us stay here and serve you."
and the innkeeper was content with the bargain, and the generals remained, and were his servants.
all this time the king and queen remained in their palace hungering for their children, but not a word was heard of either of them or of the generals who had gone to seek for them.
now there was living in the palace a faithful servant of the king's called bensurdatu, who had served him for many years, and when bensurdatu saw how grieved the king was, he lifted up his voice and said to him: "your majesty, let me go and seek your daughters."
"no, no, bensurdatu," replied the king.
"three daughters have i lost, and two generals, and shall i lose you also?"
but bensurdatu said again: "let me now go, your majesty; trust me, and i will bring you back your daughters."
then the king gave way, and bensurdatu set forth, and rode on till he came to the inn, where he dismounted and asked for food.
it was brought by the two generals, whom he knew at once in spite of their miserable clothes, and, much astonished, asked them how in the world they came there.
they told him all their adventures, and he sent for the innkeeper, and said to him: "give them back their garments, and i will pay everything that they owe you."
and the innkeeper did as he was bid, and when the two generals were dressed in their proper clothes, they declared they would join bensurdatu, and with him seek for the king's daughters.
the three companions rode on for many miles, and at length they came to a wild place, without sign of a human being.
it was getting dark, and fearing to be lost on this desolate spot they pushed on their horses, and at last saw a light in the window of a tiny hut.
"who comes there?"
asked a voice, as they knocked at the door.
"oh!
have pity on us, and give us a night's shelter," replied bensurdatu; "we are three tired travellers who have lost our way."
then the door was opened by a very old woman, who stood back, and beckoned them to enter.
"whence do you come, and whither do you go?"
said she.
"ah, good woman, we have a heavy task before us," answered bensurdatu, "we are bound to carry the king's daughters back to the palace!"
"oh, unhappy creatures," cried she, "you know not what you are doing!
the king's daughters were covered by a thick cloud, and no one knows where they may now be."
"oh, tell us, if you know, my good woman," entreated bensurdatu, "for with them lies all our happiness."
"even if i were to tell you," answered she, "you could not rescue them.
to do that you would have to go to the very bottom of a deep river, and though certainly you would find the king's daughters there, yet the two eldest are guarded by two giants, and the youngest is watched by a serpent with seven heads."
the two generals, who stood by listening, were filled with terror at her words, and wished to return immediately; but bensurdatu stood firm, and said: "now we have got so far we must carry the thing through.
tell us where the river is, so that we may get there as soon as possible."
and the old woman told them, and gave them some cheese, wine, and bread, so that they should not set forth starving; and when they had eaten and drunk they laid themselves down to sleep.
the sun had only just risen above the hills next morning before they all woke, and, taking leave of the wise woman who had helped them, they rode on till they came to the river."
i am the eldest," said one of the generals, "and it is my right to go down first."
so the others fastened a cord round him, and gave him a little bell, and let him down into the water.
but scarcely had the river closed above his head when such dreadful rushing sounds and peals of thunder came crashing round about him that he lost all his courage, and rang his bell, if perchance it might be heard amidst all this clamour.
great was his relief when the rope began slowly to pull him upwards.
then the other general plunged in; but he fared no better than the first, and was soon on dry ground again.
"well, you are a brave pair!"
said bensurdatu, as he tied the rope round his own waist; "let us see what will happen to me."
and when he heard the thunder and clamour round about him he thought to himself, "oh, make as much noise as you like, it wo n't hurt me!"
when his feet touched the bottom he found himself in a large, brilliantly lighted hall, and in the middle sat the eldest princess, and in front of her lay a huge giant, fast asleep.
directly she saw bensurdatu she nodded to him, and asked with her eyes how he had come there.
for answer he drew his sword, and was about to cut off the giant's head, when she stopped him quickly, and made signs to hide himself, as the giant was just beginning to wake."
i smell the flesh of a man!"
murmured he, stretching his great arms.
"why, how in the world could any man get down here?"
replied she; "you had better go to sleep again."
so he turned over and went to sleep.
then the princess signed to bensurdatu, who drew his sword and cut off the giant's head with such a blow that it flew into the corner.
and the heart of the princess leapt within her, and she placed a golden crown on the head of bensurdatu, and called him her deliverer.
"now show me where your sisters are," he said, "that i may free them also."
so the princess opened a door, and led him into another hall, wherein sat her next sister, guarded by a giant who was fast asleep.
when the second princess saw them, she made a sign to them to hide themselves, for the giant was showing symptoms of waking."
i smell man's flesh!"
murmured he, sleepily.
"now, how could any man get down here?"
asked she; "go to sleep again."
and as soon as he closed his eyes, bensurdatu stole out from his corner, and struck such a blow at his head that it flew far, far away.
the princess could not find words to thank bensurdatu for what he had done, and she too placed in his hand a golden crown.
"now show me where your youngest sister is," said he, "that i may free her also."
"ah!
that i fear you will never be able to do," sighed they, "for she is in the power of a serpent with seven heads."
"take me to him," replied bensurdatu.
"it will be a splendid fight."
then the princess opened a door, and bensurdatu passed through, and found himself in a hall that was even larger than the other two.
and there stood the youngest sister, chained fast to the wall, and before her was stretched a serpent with seven heads, horrible to see.
as bensurdatu came forward it twisted all its seven heads in his direction, and then made a quick dart to snatch him within its grasp.
but bensurdatu drew his sword and laid about him, till the seven heads were rolling on the floor.
flinging down his sword he rushed to the princess and broke her chains, and she wept for joy, and embraced him, and took the golden crown from off her head, and placed it in his hand.
-lsb- illustration: bensurdatu attacks the seven-headed serpent. -rsb-
"now we must go back to the upper world," said bensurdatu, and led her to the bottom of the river.
the other princesses were waiting there, and he tied the rope round the eldest, and rung his bell.
and the generals above heard, and drew her gently up.
they then unfastened the cord and threw it back into the river, and in a few moments the second princess stood beside her sister.
so now there were left only bensurdatu and the youngest princess.
"dear bensurdatu," said she, "do me a kindness, and let them draw you up before me.
i dread the treachery of the generals."
"no, no," replied bensurdatu," i certainly will not leave you down here.
there is nothing to fear from my comrades."
"if it is your wish i will go up then; but first i swear that if you do not follow to marry me, i shall stay single for the rest of my life."
then he bound the rope round her, and the generals drew her up.
but instead of lowering the rope again into the river, envy at the courage and success of bensurdatu so filled the hearts of the two generals, that they turned away and left him to perish.
and, more than that, they threatened the princesses, and forced them to promise to tell their parents that it was the two generals who had set them free.
"and if they should ask you about bensurdatu, you must say you have never seen him," they added; and the princesses, fearing for their lives, promised everything, and they rode back to court together.
the king and queen were beside themselves with joy when they saw their dear children once more.
but when the generals had told their story, and the dangers they had run, the king declared that they had gained their reward, and that the two eldest princesses should become their wives.
and now we must see what poor bensurdatu was doing.
he waited patiently a long, long time, but when the rope never came back he knew he had been wrong, and that his comrades had betrayed him.
"ah, now i shall never reach the world again," murmured he; but being a brave man, and knowing that moaning his fate would profit him nothing, he rose and began to search through the three halls, where, perhaps, he might find something to help him.
in the last one stood a dish, covered with food, which reminded him that he was hungry, and he sat down and ate and drank.
months passed away, when, one morning, as he was walking through the halls, he noticed a purse hanging on the wall, which had never been there before.
he took it down to examine it, and nearly let it fall with surprise when a voice came from the purse saying: "what commands have you?"
"oh, take me out of this horrible place, and up into the world again;" and in a moment he was, standing by the river bank, with the purse tightly grasped in his hand.
"now let me have the most beautiful ship that ever was built, all manned and ready for sea."
and there was the ship, with a flag floating from its mast on which were the words, "king with the three crowns."
then bensurdatu climbed on board, and sailed away to the city where the three princesses dwelt; and when he reached the harbour he blew trumpets and beat drums, so that every one ran to the doors and windows.
and the king heard too, and saw the beautiful vessel, and said to himself: "that must indeed be a mighty monarch, for he has three crowns while i have only one."
so he hastened to greet the stranger, and invited him to his castle, for, thought he, "this will be a fine husband for my youngest daughter."
now, the youngest princess had never married, and had turned a deaf ear to all her wooers.
such a long time had passed since bensurdatu had left the palace, that the king never guessed for a moment that the splendidly clad stranger before him was the man whom he had so deeply mourned as dead.
"noble lord," said he, "let us feast and make merry together, and then, if it seem good to you, do me the honour to take my youngest daughter to wife."
and bensurdatu was glad, and they all sat down to a great feast, and there were great rejoicings.
but only the youngest daughter was sad, for her thoughts were with bensurdatu.
after they arose from the table the king said to her, "dear child, this mighty lord does you the honour to ask your hand in marriage."
"oh, father," answered she, "spare me, i pray you, for i desire to remain single."
then bensurdatu turned to her, and said: "and if i were bensurdatu, would you give the same answer to me?"
and as she stood silently gazing at him, he added: "yes, i am bensurdatu; and this is my story."
the king and queen had their hearts stirred within them at the tale of his adventures, and when he had ended the king stretched out his hand, and said: "dear bensurdatu, my youngest daughter shall indeed be your wife; and when i die my crown shall be yours.
as for the men who have betrayed you, they shall leave the country and you shall see them no more."
and the wedding feast was ordered, and rejoicings were held for three days over the marriage of bensurdatu and the youngest princess.
-lsb- from the sicilianische märchen. -rsb-
the magician's horse once upon a time, there was a king who had three sons.
now it happened that one day the three princes went out hunting in a large forest at some distance from their father's palace, and the youngest prince lost his way, so his brothers had to return home without him.
for four days the prince wandered through the glades of the forest, sleeping on moss beneath the stars at night, and by day living on roots and wild berries.
at last, on the morning of the fifth day, he came to a large open space in the middle of the forest, and here stood a stately palace; but neither within nor without was there a trace of human life.
the prince entered the open door and wandered through the deserted rooms without seeing a living soul.
at last he came on a great hall, and in the centre of the hall was a table spread with dainty dishes and choice wines.
the prince sat down, and satisfied his hunger and thirst, and immediately afterwards the table disappeared from his sight.
this struck the prince as very strange; but though he continued his search through all the rooms, upstairs and down, he could find no one to speak to.
at last, just as it was beginning to get dark, he heard steps in the distance and he saw an old man coming towards him up the stairs.
"what are you doing wandering about my castle?"
asked the old man.
to whom the prince replied: "i lost my way hunting in the forest.
if you will take me into your service, i should like to stay with you, and will serve you faithfully."
"very well," said the old man.
"you may enter my service.
you will have to keep the stove always lit, you will have to fetch the wood for it from the forest, and you will have the charge of the black horse in the stables.
i will pay you a florin a day, and at meal times you will always find the table in the hall spread with food and wine, and you can eat and drink as much as you require."
the prince was satisfied, and he entered the old man's service, and promised to see that there was always wood on the stove, so that the fire should never die out.
now, though he did not know it, his new master was a magician, and the flame of the stove was a magic fire, and if it had gone out the magician would have lost a great part of his power.
one day the prince forgot, and let the fire burn so low that it very nearly burnt out.
just as the flame was flickering the old man stormed into the room.
"what do you mean by letting the fire burn so low?"
he growled."
i have only arrived in the nick of time."
and while the prince hastily threw a log on the stove and blew on the ashes to kindle the glow, his master gave him a severe box on the ear, and warned him that if ever it happened again it would fare badly with him.
one day the prince was sitting disconsolate in the stables when, to his surprise, the black horse spoke to him.
"come into my stall," it said," i have something to say to you.
fetch my bridle and saddle from that cupboard and put them on me.
take the bottle that is beside them; it contains an ointment which will make your hair shine like pure gold; then put all the wood you can gather together on to the stove, till it is piled quite high up."
so the prince did what the horse told him; he saddled and bridled the horse, he put the ointment on his hair till it shone like gold, and he made such a big fire in the stove that the flames sprang up and set fire to the roof, and in a few minutes the palace was burning like a huge bonfire.
then he hurried back to the stables, and the horse said to him: "there is one thing more you must do.
in the cupboad you will find a looking-glass, a brush and a riding-whip.
bring them with you, mount on my back, and ride as hard as you can, for now the house is burning merrily."
the prince did as the horse bade him.
scarcely had he got into the saddle than the horse was off and away, galloping at such a pace that, in a short time, the forest and all the country belonging to the magician lay far behind them.
in the meantime the magician returned to his palace, which he found in smouldering ruins.
in vain he called for his servant.
at last he went to look for him in the stables, and when he discovered that the black horse had disappeared too, he at once suspected that they had gone together; so he mounted a roan horse that was in the next stall, and set out in pursuit.
as the prince rode, the quick ears of his horse heard the sound of pursuing feet.
"look behind you," he said, "and see if the old man is following."
and the prince turned in his saddle and saw a cloud like smoke or dust in the distance.
"we must hurry," said the horse.
after they had galloped for some time, the horse said again: "look behind, and see if he is still at some distance."
"he is quite close," answered the prince.
"then throw the looking-glass on the ground," said the horse.
so the prince threw it; and when the magician came up, the roan horse stepped on the mirror, and crash!
his foot went through the glass, and he stumbled and fell, cutting his feet so badly that there was nothing for the old man to do but to go slowly back with him to the stables, and put new shoes on his feet.
then they started once more in pursuit of the prince, for the magician set great value on the horse, and was determined not to lose it.
in the meanwhile the prince had gone a great distance; but the quick ears of the black horse detected the sound of following feet from afar.
"dismount," he said to the prince; "put your ear to the ground, and tell me if you do not hear a sound."
so the prince dismounted and listened."
i seem to hear the earth tremble," he said;" i think he can not be very far off."
"mount me at once," answered the horse, "and i will gallop as fast as i can."
and he set off so fast that the earth seemed to fly from under his hoofs.
"look back once more," he said, after a short time, "and see if he is in sight.'"
i see a cloud and a flame," answered the prince; "but a long way off."
"we must make haste," said the horse.
and shortly after he said: "look back again; he ca n't be far off now."
the prince turned in his saddle, and exclaimed: "he is close behind us, in a minute the flame from his horse's nostrils will reach us."
"then throw the brush on the ground," said the horse.
and the prince threw it, and in an instant the brush was changed into such a thick wood that even a bird could not have got through it, and when the old man got up to it the roan horse came suddenly to a stand-still, not able to advance a step into the thick tangle.
so there was nothing for the magician to do but to retrace his steps, to fetch an axe, with which he cut himself a way through the wood.
but it took him some time, during which the prince and the black horse got on well ahead.
-lsb- illustration: how the magician was thwarted by the brush -rsb- but once more they heard the sound of pursuing feet.
"look back," said the black horse, "and see if he is following."
"yes," answered the prince, "this time i hear him distinctly."
"let us hurry on," said the horse.
and a little later he said: "look back now, and see if he is in sight."
"yes," said the prince, turning round," i see the flame; he is close behind us."
"then you must throw down the whip," answered the horse.
and in the twinkling of an eye the whip was changed into a broad river.
when the old man got up to it he urged the roan horse into the water, but as the water mounted higher and higher, the magic flame which gave the magician all his power grew smaller and smaller, till, with a fizz, it went out, and the old man and the roan horse sank in the river and disappeared.
when the prince looked round they were no longer to be seen.
"now," said the horse, "you may dismount; there is nothing more to fear, for the magician is dead.
beside that brook you will find a willow wand.
gather it, and strike the earth with it, and it will open and you will see a door at your feet."
when the prince had struck the earth with the wand a door appeared, and opened into a large vaulted stone hall.
"lead me into that hall," said the horse," i will stay there; but you must go through the fields till you reach a garden, in the midst of which is a king's palace.
when you get there you must ask to be taken into the king's service.
good-bye, and do n't forget me."
so they parted; but first the horse made the prince promise not to let anyone in the palace see his golden hair.
so he bound a scarf round it, like a turban, and the prince set out through the fields, till he reached a beautiful garden, and beyond the garden he saw the walls and towers of a stately palace.
at the garden gate he met the gardener, who asked him what he wanted."
i want to take service with the king," replied the prince.
"well, you may stay and work under me in the garden," said the man; for as the prince was dressed like a poor man, he could not tell that he was a king's son."
i need someone to weed the ground and to sweep the dead leaves from the paths.
you shall have a florin a day, a horse to help you to cart the leaves away, and food and drink."
so the prince consented, and set about his work.
but when his food was given to him he only ate half of it; the rest he carried to the vaulted hall beside the brook, and gave to the black horse.
and this he did every day, and the horse thanked him for his faithful friendship.
one evening, as they were together, after his work in the garden was over, the horse said to him: "to-morrow a large company of princes and great lords are coming to your king's palace.
they are coming from far and near, as wooers for the three princesses.
they will all stand in a row in the courtyard of the palace, and the three princesses will come out, and each will carry a diamond apple in her hand, which she will throw into the air.
at whose-soever feet the apple falls he will be the bridegroom of that princess.
you must be close by in the garden at your work.
the apple of the youngest princess, who is much the most beautiful of the sisters, will roll past the wooers and stop in front of you.
pick it up at once and put it in your pocket."
the next day, when the wooers were all assembled in the courtyard of the castle, everything happened just as the horse had said.
the princesses threw the apples into the air, and the diamond apple of the youngest princess rolled past all the wooers, out on to the garden, and stopped at the feet of the young gardener, who was busy sweeping the leaves away.
in a moment he had stooped down, picked up the apple and put it in his pocket.
as he stooped the scarf round his head slipped a little to one side, and the princess caught sight of his golden hair, and loved him from that moment.
-lsb- illustration: the gardener gets the apple -rsb- but the king was very sad, for his youngest daughter was the one he loved best.
but there was no help for it; and the next day a threefold wedding was celebrated at the palace, and after the wedding the youngest princess returned with her husband to the small hut in the garden where he lived.
some time after this the people of a neighbouring country went to war with the king, and he set out to battle, accompanied by the husbands of his two eldest daughters mounted on stately steeds.
but the husband of the youngest daughter had nothing but the old broken-down horse which helped him in his garden work; and the king, who was ashamed of this son-in-law, refused to give him any other.
so as he was determined not to be left behind, he went into the garden, mounted the sorry nag, and set out.
but scarcely had he ridden a few yards before the horse stumbled and fell.
so he dismounted and went down to the brook, to where the black horse lived in the vaulted hall.
and the horse said to him: "saddle and bridle me, and then go into the next room and you will find a suit of armour and a sword.
put them on, and we will ride forth together to battle."
and the prince did as he was told; and when he had mounted the horse his armour glittered in the sun, and he looked so brave and handsome, that no one would have recognised him as the gardener who swept away the dead leaves from the paths.
the horse bore him away at a great pace, and when they reached the battle-field they saw that the king was losing the day, so many of his warriors had been slain.
but when the warrior on his black charger and in glittering armour appeared on the scene, hewing right and left with his sword, the enemy were dismayed and fled in all directions, leaving the king master of the field.
then the king and his two sons-in-law, when they saw their deliverer, shouted, and all that was left of the army joined in the cry: "a god has come to our rescue!"
and they would have surrounded him, but his black horse rose in the air and bore him out of their sight.
soon after this, part of the country rose in rebellion against the king, and once more he and his two sons-in-law had to fare forth to battle.
and the son-in-law who was disguised as a gardener wanted to fight too.
so he came to the king and said: "dear father, let me ride with you to fight your enemies.'"
i do n't want a blockhead like you to fight for me," answered the king.
"besides, i have n't got a horse fit for you.
but see, there is a carter on the road carting hay, you may take his horse."
so the prince took the carter's horse, but the poor beast was old and tired, and after it had gone a few yards it stumbled and fell.
so the prince returned sadly to the garden and watched the king ride forth at the head of the army accompanied by his two sons-in-law.
when they were out of sight the prince betook himself to the vaulted chamber by the brook-side, and having taken counsel of the faithful black horse, he put on the glittering suit of armour, and was borne on the back of the horse through the air, to where the battle was being fought.
and once more he routed the king's enemies, hacking to right and left with his sword.
and again they all cried: "a god has come to our rescue!"
but when they tried to detain him the black horse rose in the air and bore him out of their sight.
when the king and his sons-in-law returned home they could talk of nothing but the hero who had fought for them, and all wondered who he could be.
shortly afterwards the king of a neighbouring country declared war, and once more the king and his sons-in-law and his subjects had to prepare themselves for battle, and once more the prince begged to ride with them, but the king said he had no horse to spare for him.
"but," he added, "you may take the horse of the woodman who brings the wood from the forest, it is good enough for you."
so the prince took the woodman's horse, but it was so old and useless that it could not carry him beyond the castle gates.
so he betook himself once more to the vaulted hall, where the black horse had prepared a still more magnificent suit of armour for him than the one he had worn on the previous occasions, and when he had put it on, and mounted on the back of the horse, he bore him straight to the battle-field, and once more he scattered the king's enemies, fighting single-handed in their ranks, and they fled in all directions.
but it happened that one of the enemy struck with his sword and wounded the prince in the leg.
and the king took his own pocket-handkerchief, with his name and crown embroidered on it, and bound it round the wounded leg.
and the king would fain have compelled him to mount in a litter and be carried straight to the palace, and two of his knights were to lead the black charger to the royal stables.
but the prince put his hand on the mane of his faithful horse, and managed to pull himself up into the saddle, and the horse mounted into the air with him.
then they all shouted and cried: "the warrior who has fought for us is a god!
he must be a god."
and throughout all the kingdom nothing else was spoken about, and all the people said: "who can the hero be who has fought for us in so many battles?
he can not be a man, he must be a god."
and the king said: "if only i could see him once more, and if it turned out that after all he was a man and not a god, i would reward him with half my kingdom."
now when the prince reached his home -- the gardener's hut where he lived with his wife -- he was weary, and he lay down on his bed and slept.
and his wife noticed the handkerchief bound round his wounded leg, and she wondered what it could be.
then she looked at it more closely and saw in the corner that it was embroidered with her father's name and the royal crown.
so she ran straight to the palace and told her father.
and he and his two sons-in-law followed her back to her house, and there the gardener lay asleep on his bed.
and the scarf that he always wore bound round his head had slipped off, and his golden hair gleamed on the pillow.
and they all recognised that this was the hero who had fought and won so many battles for them.
-lsb- illustration: the hero discovered -rsb- then there was great rejoicing throughout the land, and the king rewarded his son-in-law with half of his kingdom, and he and his wife reigned happily over it.
the little gray man a nun, a countryman, and a blacksmith were once wandering through the world together.
one day they lost their way in a thick, dark forest, and were thankful when they saw, in the distance, the walls of a house, where they hoped they might obtain refuge for the night.
when they got close to the house they found that it was an old deserted castle, fast falling into ruins, but with some of the rooms in it still habitable.
as they were homeless they determined to take up their abode in the castle, and they arranged that one of them should always stay at home and keep house, while the other two went out into the world to seek their fortunes.
the lot of remaining at home fell first to the nun, and when the countryman and the blacksmith had gone out into the wood, she set to work, tidied up the house, and prepared all the food for the day.
as her companions did not come home for their mid-day meal, she ate up her own portion and put the rest in the oven to keep warm.
just as she was sitting down to sew, the door opened and a little gray man came in, and, standing before her, said: "oh!
how cold i am!"
the nun was very sorry for him, and said at once: "sit down by the fire and warm yourself."
the little man did as he was told, and soon called out: "oh!
how hungry i am!"
the nun answered: "there is food in the oven, help yourself."
the little man did not need to be told twice, for he set to work and ate up everything with the greatest possible despatch.
when the nun saw this she was very angry, and scolded the dwarf because he had left nothing for her companions.
the little man resented her words, and flew into such a passion that he seized the nun, beat her, and threw her first against one wall and then against the other.
when he had nearly killed her he left her lying on the floor, and hastily walked out of the house.
in the evening the countryman and the blacksmith returned home, and when they found, on demanding their dinner, that there was nothing left for them, they reproached the nun bitterly, and refused to believe her when she tried to tell them what had happened.
the next day the countryman asked to be left in charge of the house, and promised that, if he remained at home, no one should go hungry to bed.
so the other two went out into the forest, and the countryman having prepared the food for the day, ate up his own portion, and put the rest in the oven.
just as he had finished clearing away, the door opened and the little gray man walked in, and this time he had two heads.
he shook and trembled as before, and exclaimed: "oh!
how cold i am!"
the countryman, who was frightened out of his wits, begged him to draw near the fire and warm himself.
soon after the dwarf looked greedily round, and said: "oh!
how hungry i am!"
"there is food in the oven, so you can eat," replied the countryman.
then the little man fell to with both his heads, and soon finished the last morsel.
when the countryman scolded him for this proceeding he treated him exactly as he had done the nun, and left the poor fellow more dead than alive.
now when the blacksmith came home with the nun in the evening, and found nothing for supper, he flew into a passion; and swore that he would stay at home the following day, and that no one should go supperless to bed.
when day dawned the countryman and the nun set out into the wood, and the blacksmith prepared all the food for the day as the others had done.
again the gray dwarf entered the house without knocking, and this time he had three heads.
when he complained of cold, the blacksmith told him to sit near the fire; and when he said he was hungry, the blacksmith put some food on a plate and gave it to him.
the dwarf made short work of what was provided for him, and then, looking greedily round with his six eyes, he demanded more.
when the blacksmith refused to give him another morsel, he flew into a terrible rage, and proceeded to treat him in the same way as he had treated his companions.
-lsb- illustration: the little gray man "he demanded more" -rsb- but the blacksmith was a match for him, for he seized a huge hammer and struck off two of the dwarf's heads with it.
the little man yelled with pain and rage, and hastily fled from the house.
the blacksmith ran after him, and pursued him for a long way; but at last they came to an iron door, and through it the little creature vanished.
the door shut behind him, and the blacksmith had to give up the pursuit and return home.
he found that the nun and the countryman had come back in the meantime, and they were much delighted when he placed some food before them, and showed them the two heads he had struck off with his hammer.
the three companions determined there and then to free themselves from the power of the gray dwarf, and the very next day they set to work to find him.
they had to walk a long way, and to search for many hours, before they found the iron door through which the dwarf had disappeared; and when they had found it they had the greatest difficulty in opening it.
when at last they succeeded in forcing the lock, they entered a large hall, in which sat a young and lovely girl, working at a table.
the moment she saw the nun, the blacksmith, and the countryman, she fell at their feet, thanking them with tears in her eyes for having set her free.
she told them that she was a king's daughter, who had been shut up in the castle by a mighty magician.
the day before, just about noon, she had suddenly felt the magic power over her disappear, and ever since that moment she had eagerly awaited the arrival of her deliverers.
she went on to say that there was yet another princess shut up in the castle, who had also fallen under the might of the magician.
they wandered through many halls and rooms till at last they found the second princess, who was quite as grateful as the first, and thanked the three companions most warmly for having set her free.
then the princesses told their rescuers that a great treasure lay hidden in the cellars of the castle, but that it was carefully guarded by a fierce and terrible dog.
nothing daunted, they all went down below at once, and found the fierce animal mounting guard over the treasure as the princesses had said.
but one blow from the blacksmith's hammer soon made an end of the monster, and they found themselves in a vaulted chamber full of gold and silver and precious stones.
beside the treasure stood a young and handsome man, who advanced to meet them, and thanked the nun, the blacksmith, and the countryman, for having freed him from the magic spell he was under.
he told them that he was a king's son, who had been banished to this castle by a wicked magician, and that he had been changed into the three-headed dwarf.
when he had lost two of his heads the magic power over the two princesses had been removed, and when the blacksmith had killed the horrible dog, then he too had been set free.
to show his gratitude he begged the three companions to divide the treasure between them, which they did; but there was so much of it that it took a very long time.
the princesses, too, were so grateful to their rescuers, that one married the blacksmith, and the other the countryman.
then the prince claimed the nun as his bride, and they all lived happily together till they died.
-lsb- from the german, kletke. -rsb-
herr lazarus and the draken once upon a time there was a cobbler called lazarus, who was very fond of honey.
one day, as he ate some while he sat at work, the flies collected in such numbers that with one blow he killed forty.
then he went and ordered a sword to be made for him, on which he had written these words: "with one blow i have slain forty."
when the sword was ready he took it and went out into the world, and when he was two days" journey from home he came to a spring, by which he laid himself down and slept.
now in that country there dwelt draken, one of whom came to the spring to draw water; there he found lazarus sleeping, and read what was written on his sword.
then he went back to his people and told them what he had seen, and they all advised him to make fellowship with this powerful stranger.
so the draken returned to the spring, awoke lazarus, and said that if it was agreeable to him they should make fellowship together.
-lsb- illustration: how the draken found herr lazarus asleep by the spring -rsb- lazarus answered that he was willing, and after a priest had blessed the fellowship, they returned together to the other draken, and lazarus dwelt among them.
after some days they told him that it was their custom to take it in turns to bring wood and water, and as he was now of their company, he must take his turn.
they went first for water and wood, but at last it came to be lazarus's turn to go for water.
the draken had a great leathern bag, holding two hundred measures of water.
this lazarus could only, with great difficulty, drag empty to the spring, and because he could not carry it back full, he did not fill it at all, but, instead, he dug up the ground all round the spring.
as lazarus remained so long away, the draken sent one of their number to see what had become of him, and when this one came to the spring, lazarus said to him: "we will no more plague ourselves by carrying water every day.
i will bring the entire spring home at once, and so we shall be freed from this burden."
but the draken called out: "on no account, herr lazarus, else we shall all die of thirst; rather will we carry the water ourselves in turns, and you alone shall be exempt."
next it comes to be lazarus's turn to bring the wood.
now the draken, when they fetched the wood, always took an entire tree on their shoulder, and so carried it home.
because lazarus could not imitate them in this, he went to the forest, tied all the trees together with a thick rope, and remained in the forest till evening.
again the draken sent one of them after him to see what had become of him, and when this one asked what he was about, lazarus answered: "i will bring the entire forest home at once, so that after that we may have rest."
but the draken called out: "by no means, herr lazarus, else we shall all die of cold; rather will we go ourselves to bring wood, and let you be free."
and then the draken tore up one tree, threw it over his shoulder, and so carried it home.
when they had lived together some time, the draken became weary of lazarus, and agreed among themselves to kill him; each draken, in the night while lazarus slept, should strike him a blow with a hatchet.
but lazarus heard of this scheme, and when the evening came, he took a log of wood, covered it with his cloak, laid it in the place where he usually slept, and then hid himself.
in the night the draken came, and each one hit the log a blow with his hatchet, till it flew in pieces.
then they believed their object was gained, and they lay down again.
thereupon lazarus took the log, threw it away, and laid himself down in its stead.
towards dawn, he began to groan, and when the draken heard that, they asked what ailed him, to which he made answer: "the gnats have stung me horribly."
this terrified the draken, for they believed that lazarus took their blows for gnat-stings, and they determined at any price to get rid of him.
next morning, therefore, they asked him if he had not wife or child, and said that if he would like to go and visit them they would give him a bag of gold to take away with him.
he agreed willingly to this, but asked further that one of the draken should go with him to carry the bag of gold.
they consented, and one was sent with him.
when they had come to within a short distance of lazarus's house, he said to the draken: "stop here, in the meantime, for i must go on in front and tie up my children, lest they eat you."
so he went and tied his children with strong ropes, and said to them: "as soon as the draken comes in sight, call out as loud as you can, "drakenflesh!
drakenflesh!""
so, when the draken appeared, the children cried out; "drakenflesh!
drakenflesh!"
and this so terrified the draken that he let the bag fall and fled.
on the road he met a fox, which asked him why he seemed so frightened.
he answered that he was afraid of the children of herr lazarus, who had been within a hair-breadth of eating him up.
but the fox laughed, and said: "what!
you were afraid of the children of herr lazarus?
he had two fowls, one of which i ate yesterday, the other i will go and fetch now -- if you do not believe me, come and see for yourself; but you must first tie yourself on to my tail."
the draken then tied himself on to the fox's tail, and went back thus with it to lazarus's house, in order to see what it would arrange.
there stood lazarus with his gun raised ready to fire, who, when he saw the fox coming along with the draken, called out to the fox: "did i not tell you to bring me all the draken, and you bring me only one?"
when the draken heard that he made off to the right-about at once, and ran so fast that the fox was dashed in pieces against the stones.
when lazarus had got quit of the draken he built himself, with their gold, a magnificent house, in which he spent the rest of his days in great enjoyment.
the story of the queen of the flowery isles there once lived a queen who ruled over the flowery isles, whose husband, to her extreme grief, died a few years after their marriage.
on being left a widow she devoted herself almost entirely to the education of the two charming princesses, her only children.
the elder of them was so lovely that as she grew up her mother greatly feared she would excite the jealousy of the queen of all the isles, who prided herself on being the most beautiful woman in the world, and insisted on all rivals bowing before her charms.
in order the better to gratify her vanity she had urged the king, her husband, to make war on all the surrounding islands, and as his greatest wish was to please her, the only conditions he imposed on any newly-conquered country was that each princess of every royal house should attend his court as soon as she was fifteen years old, and do homage to the transcendent beauty of his queen.
the queen of the flowery isles, well aware of this law, was fully determined to present her daughter to the proud queen as soon as her fifteenth birthday was past.
the queen herself had heard a rumour of the young princess's great beauty, and awaited her visit with some anxiety, which soon developed into jealousy, for when the interview took place it was impossible not to be dazzled by such radiant charms, and she was obliged to admit that she had never beheld anyone so exquisitely lovely.
of course she thought in her own mind "excepting myself!"
for nothing could have made her believe it possible that anyone could eclipse her.
but the outspoken admiration of the entire court soon undeceived her, and made her so angry that she pretended illness and retired to her own rooms, so as to avoid witnessing the princess's triumph.
she also sent word to the queen of the flowery isles that she was sorry not to be well enough to see her again, and advised her to return to her own states with the princess, her daughter.
this message was entrusted to one of the great ladies of the court, who was an old friend of the queen of the flowery isles, and who advised her not to wait to take a formal leave but to go home as fast as she could.
the queen was not slow to take the hint, and lost no time in obeying it.
being well aware of the magic powers of the incensed queen, she warned her daughter that she was threatened by some great danger if she left the palace for any reason whatever during the next six months.
the princess promised obedience, and no pains were spared to make the time pass pleasantly for her.
the six months were nearly at an end, and on the very last day a splendid fête was to take place in a lovely meadow quite near the palace.
the princess, who had been able to watch all the preparations from her window, implored her mother to let her go as far as the meadow; and the queen, thinking all risks must be over, consented, and promised to take her there herself.
the whole court was delighted to see their much-loved princess at liberty, and everyone set off in high glee to join in the fête.
the princess, overjoyed at being once more in the open air, was walking a little in advance of her party when suddenly the earth opened under her feet and closed again after swallowing her up!
-lsb- illustration: the princess is swallowed up by the earth. -rsb-
the queen fainted away with terror, and the younger princess burst into floods of tears and could hardly be dragged away from the fatal spot, whilst the court was overwhelmed with horror at so great a calamity.
orders were given to bore the earth to a great depth, but in vain; not a trace of the vanished princess was to be found.
she sank right through the earth and found herself in a desert place with nothing but rocks and trees and no sign of any human being.
the only living creature she saw was a very pretty little dog, who ran up to her and at once began to caress her.
she took him in her arms, and after playing with him for a little put him down again, when he started off in front of her, looking round from time to time as though begging her to follow.
she let him lead her on, and presently reached a little hill, from which she saw a valley full of lovely fruit trees, bearing flowers and fruit together.
the ground was also covered with fruit and flowers, and in the middle of the valley rose a fountain surrounded by a velvety lawn.
the princess hastened to this charming spot, and sitting down on the grass began to think over the misfortune which had befallen her, and burst into tears as she reflected on her sad condition.
the fruit and clear fresh water would, she knew, prevent her from dying of hunger or thirst, but how could she escape if any wild beast appeared and tried to devour her?
at length, having thought over every possible evil which could happen, the princess tried to distract her mind by playing with the little dog.
she spent the whole day near the fountain, but as night drew on she wondered what she should do, when she noticed that the little dog was pulling at her dress.
-lsb- illustration: she · spent · the · whole · day · near · the · fountain · -rsb- she paid no heed to him at first, but as he continued to pull her dress and then run a few steps in one particular direction, she at last decided to follow him; he stopped before a rock with a large opening in the centre, which he evidently wished her to enter.
the princess did so and discovered a large and beautiful cave lit up by the brilliancy of the stones with which it was lined, with a little couch covered with soft moss in one corner.
she lay down on it and the dog at once nestled at her feet.
tired out with all she had gone through she soon fell asleep.
next morning she was awakened very early by the songs of many birds.
the little dog woke up too, and sprang round her in his most caressing manner.
she got up and went outside, the dog as before running on in front and turning back constantly to take her dress and draw her on.
she let him have his way and he soon led her back to the beautiful garden where she had spent part of the day before.
here she ate some fruit, drank some water of the fountain, and felt as if she had made an excellent meal.
she walked about amongst the flowers, played with her little dog, and at night returned to sleep in the cave.
in this way the princess passed several months, and as her first terrors died away she gradually became more resigned to her fate.
the little dog, too, was a great comfort, and her constant companion.
one day she noticed that he seemed very sad and did not even caress her as usual.
fearing he might be ill she carried him to a spot where she had seen him eat some particular herbs, hoping they might do him good, but he would not touch them.
he spent all the night, too, sighing and groaning as if in great pain.
at last the princess fell asleep, and when she awoke her first thought was for her little pet, but not finding him at her feet as usual, she ran out of the cave to look for him.
as she stepped out of the cave she caught sight of an old man, who hurried away so fast that she had barely time to see him before he disappeared.
this was a fresh surprise and almost as great a shock as the loss of her little dog, who had been so faithful to her ever since the first day she had seen him.
she wondered if he had strayed away or if the old man had stolen him.
tormented by all kinds of thoughts and fears she wandered on, when suddenly she felt herself wrapped in a thick cloud and carried through the air.
she made no resistance and before very long found herself, to her great surprise, in an avenue leading to the palace in which she had been born.
no sign of the cloud anywhere.
as the princess approached the palace she perceived that everyone was dressed in black, and she was filled with fear as to the cause of this mourning.
she hastened on and was soon recognised and welcomed with shouts of joy.
her sister hearing the cheers ran out and embraced the wanderer, with tears of happiness, telling her that the shock of her disappearance had been so terrible that their mother had only survived it a few days.
since then the younger princess had worn the crown, which she now resigned to her sister to whom it by right belonged.
but the elder wished to refuse it, and would only accept the crown on condition that her sister should share in all the power.
the first acts of the new queen were to do honour to the memory of her dear mother and to shower every mark of generous affection on her sister.
then, being still very grieved at the loss of her little dog, she had a careful search made for him in every country, and when nothing could be heard of him she was so grieved that she offered half her kingdom to whoever should restore him to her.
many gentlemen of the court, tempted by the thought of such a reward, set off in all directions in search of the dog; but all returned empty-handed to the queen, who, in despair, announced that since life was unbearable without her little dog, she would give her hand in marriage to the man who brought him back.
the prospect of such a prize quickly turned the court into a desert, nearly every courtier starting on the quest.
whilst they were away the queen was informed one day that a very ill-looking man wished to speak with her.
she desired him to be shown into a room where she was sitting with her sister.
on entering her presence he said that he was prepared to give the queen her little dog if she on her side was ready to keep her word.
the princess was the first to speak.
she said that the queen had no right to marry without the consent of the nation, and that on so important an occasion the general council must be summoned.
the queen could not say anything against this statement; but she ordered an apartment in the palace to be given to the man, and desired the council to meet on the following day.
next day, accordingly, the council assembled in great state, and by the princess's advice it was decided to offer the man a large sum of money for the dog, and should he refuse it, to banish him from the kingdom without seeing the queen again.
the man refused the price offered and left the hall.
the princess informed the queen of what had passed, and the queen approved of all, but added that as she was her own mistress she had made up her mind to abdicate her throne, and to wander through the world till she had found her little dog.
the princess was much alarmed by such a resolution, and implored the queen to change her mind.
whilst they were discussing the subject, one of the chamberlains appeared to inform the queen that the bay was covered with ships.
the two sisters ran to the balcony, and saw a large fleet in full sail for the port.
in a little time they came to the conclusion that the ships must come from a friendly nation, as every vessel was decked with gay flags, streamers, and pennons, and the way was led by a small ship flying a great white flag of peace.
the queen sent a special messenger to the harbour, and was soon informed that the fleet belonged to the prince of the emerald isles, who begged leave to land in her kingdom, and to present his humble respects to her.
the queen at once sent some of the court dignitaries to receive the prince and bid him welcome.
she awaited him seated on her throne, but rose on his appearance, and went a few steps to meet him; then begged him to be seated, and for about an hour kept him in close conversation.
the prince was then conducted to a splendid suite of apartments, and the next day he asked for a private audience.
he was admitted to the queen's own sitting-room, where she was sitting alone with her sister.
after the first greetings the prince informed the queen that he had some very strange things to tell her, which she only would know to be true.
"madam," said he," i am a neighbour of the queen of all the isles; and a small isthmus connects part of my states with hers.
one day, when hunting a stag, i had the misfortune to meet her, and not recognising her, i did not stop to salute her with all proper ceremony.
you, madam, know better than anyone how revengeful she is, and that she is also a mistress of magic.
i learnt both facts to my cost.
the ground opened under my feet, and i soon found myself in a far distant region transformed into a little dog, under which shape i had the honour to meet your majesty.
after six months, the queen's vengeance not being yet satisfied, she further changed me into a hideous old man, and in this form i was so afraid of being unpleasant in your eyes, madam, that i hid myself in the depths of the woods, where i spent three months more.
at the end of that time i was so fortunate as to meet a benevolent fairy who delivered me from the proud queen's power, and told me all your adventures and where to find you.
i now come to offer you a heart which has been entirely yours, madam, since first we met in the desert."
a few days later a herald was sent through the kingdom to proclaim the joyful news of the marriage of the queen of the flowery isles with the young prince.
they lived happily for many years, and ruled their people well.
as for the bad queen, whose vanity and jealousy had caused so much mischief, the fairies took all her power away for a punishment.
-lsb- "cabinet des fées." -rsb-
udea and her seven brothers once upon a time there was a man and his wife who had seven boys.
the children lived in the open air and grew big and strong, and the six eldest spent part of every day hunting wild beasts.
the youngest did not care so much about sport, and he often stayed with his mother.
one morning, however, as the whole seven were going out for a long expedition, they said to their aunt, "dear aunt, if a baby sister comes into the world to-day, wave a white handkerchief, and we will return immediately; but if it is only a boy, just brandish a sickle, and we will go on with what we are doing."
now the baby when it arrived really proved to be a girl, but as the aunt could not bear the boys, she thought it was a good opportunity to get rid of them.
so she waved the sickle.
and when the seven brothers saw the sign they said, "now we have nothing to go back for," and plunged deeper into the desert.
the little girl soon grew to be a big girl, and she was called by all her friends -lrb- though she did not know it -rrb- "udea, who had driven her seven brothers into strange lands."
one day, when she had been quarrelling with her playmates, the oldest among them said to her, "it is a pity you were born, as ever since, your brothers have been obliged to roam about the world."
udea did not answer, but went home to her mother and asked her, "have i really got brothers?"
"yes," replied her mother, "seven of them.
but they went away the day you were born, and i have never heard of them since."
then the girl said," i will go and look for them till i find them."
"my dear child," answered her mother, "it is fifteen years since they left, and no man has seen them.
how will you know which way to go?"
"oh, i will follow them, north and south, east and west, and though i may travel far, yet some day i will find them."
then her mother said no more, but gave her a camel and some food, and a negro and his wife to take care of her, and she fastened a cowrie shell round the camel's neck for a charm, and bade her daughter go in peace.
during the first day the party journeyed on without any adventures, but the second morning the negro said to the girl, "get down, and let the negress ride instead of you."
"mother," cried udea.
"what is it?"
asked her mother.
"barka wants me to dismount from my camel."
"leave her alone, barka," commanded the mother, and barka did not dare to persist.
but on the following day he said again to udea, "get down, and let the negress ride instead of you," and though udea called to her mother she was too far away, and the mother never heard her.
then the negro seized her roughly and threw her on the ground, and said to his wife, "climb up," and the negress climbed up, while the girl walked by the side.
she had meant to ride all the way on her camel as her feet were bare and the stones cut them till the blood came.
but she had to walk on till night, when they halted, and the next morning it was the same thing again.
weary and bleeding the poor girl began to cry, and implored the negro to let her ride, if only for a little.
but he took no notice, except to bid her walk a little faster.
-lsb- illustration: the negro compels udea to walk -rsb- by-and-by they passed a caravan, and the negro stopped and asked the leader if they had come across seven young men, who were thought to be hunting somewhere about.
and the man answered, "go straight on, and by mid-day you will reach the castle where they live."
when he heard this, the black melted some pitch in the sun, and smeared the girl with it, till she looked as much a negro as he did.
next he bade his wife get down from the camel, and told udea to mount, which she was thankful to do.
so they arrived at her brothers" castle.
leaving the camel kneeling at the entrance for udea to dismount, the negro knocked loudly at the door, which was opened by the youngest brother, all the others being away hunting.
he did not of course recognise udea, but he knew the negro and his wife, and welcomed them gladly, adding, "but who does the other negress belong to?"
"oh, that is your sister!"
said they.
"my sister!
but she is coal black!"
"that may be, but she is your sister for all that."
the young man asked no more questions, but took them into the castle, and he himself waited outside till his brothers came home.
as soon as they were alone, the negro whispered to udea, "if you dare to tell your brothers that i made you walk, or that i smeared you with pitch, i will kill you."
"oh, i will be sure to say nothing," replied the girl, trembling, and at that moment the six elder brothers appeared in sight."
i have some good news for you," said the youngest, hastening to meet them; "our sister is here!"
"nonsense," they answered.
"we have no sister; you know the child that was born was a boy."
"but that was not true," replied he, "and here she is with the negro and his wife.
only -- she too is black," he added softly, but his brothers did not hear him, and pushed past joyfully.
"how are you, good old barka?"
they said to the negro; "and how comes it that we never knew that we had a sister till now?"
and they greeted udea warmly, while she shed tears of relief and gladness.
the next morning they all agreed that they would not go out hunting.
and the eldest brother took udea on his knee, and she combed his hair and talked to him of their home till the tears ran down his cheeks and dropped on her bare arm.
and where the tears fell a white mark was made.
then the brother took a cloth and rubbed the place, and he saw that she was not black at all.
"tell me, who painted you over like this?"
cried he."
i am afraid to tell you," sobbed the girl, "the negro will kill me."
"afraid!
and with seven brothers!"
"well, i will tell you then," she answered.
"the negro forced me to dismount from the camel and let his wife ride instead.
and the stones cut my feet till they bled and i had to bind them.
and after that, when we heard your castle was near by, he took pitch and smeared my body with it."
then the brother rushed in wrath from the room, and seizing his sword, cut off first the negro's head and then his wife's.
he next brought in some warm water, and washed his sister all over, till her skin was white and shining again.
"ah, now we see that you are our sister!"
they all said.
"what fools the negro must have thought us, to believe for an instant that we could have a sister who was black!"
and all that day and the next they remained in the castle.
but on the third morning they said to their sister: "dear sister, you must lock yourself into this castle, with only the cat for company.
and be very careful never to eat anything which she does not eat too.
you must be sure to give her a bit of everything.
in seven days we shall be back again."
"all right," she answered, and locked herself into the castle with the cat.
on the eighth day the brothers came home.
"how are you?"
they asked.
"you have not been anxious?"
"no, why should i be anxious?
the gates were fast locked, and in the castle are seven doors, and the seventh is of iron.
what is there to frighten me?"
"no one will try to hurt us," said the brothers, "for they fear us greatly.
but for yourself, we implore you to do nothing without consulting the cat, who has grown up in the house, and take care never to neglect her advice."
"all right," replied udea, "and whatever i eat she shall have half."
"capital!
and if ever you are in danger the cat will come and tell us -- only elves and pigeons, which fly round your window, know where to find us."
"this is the first i have heard of the pigeons," said udea.
"why did you not speak of them before?"
"we always leave them food and water for seven days," replied the brothers.
"ah," sighed the girl, "if i had only known, i would have given them fresh food and fresh water; for after seven days anything becomes bad.
would it not be better if i fed them every day?"
"much better," said they, "and we shall feel any kindnesses you do towards the cat or the pigeons exactly as if they were shown to ourselves."
"set your minds at ease," answered the girl," i will treat them as if they were my brothers."
that night the brothers slept in the castle, but after breakfast next morning they buckled on their weapons and mounted their horses, and rode off to their hunting grounds, calling out to their sister, "mind you let nobody in till we come back."
"very well," cried she, and kept the doors carefully locked for seven days and on the eighth the brothers returned as before.
then, after spending one evening with her, they departed as soon as they had done breakfast.
directly they were out of sight udea began to clean the house, and among the dust she found a bean which she ate.
"what are you eating?"
asked the cat.
"nothing," said she.
"open your mouth, and let me see," the girl did as she was told, and then the cat said "why did you not give me half?'"
i forgot," answered she, "but there are plenty of beans about, you can have as many as you like."
"no, that wo n't do.
i want half of that particular bean."
"but how can i give it you?
i tell you i have eaten it.
i can roast you a hundred others."
"no, i want half of that one."
"oh!
do as you like, only go away!"
cried she.
so the cat ran straight to the kitchen fire, and spit on it and put it out, and when udea came to cook the supper she had nothing to light it with.
"why did you put the fire out?"
asked she.
"just to show you how nicely you would be able to cook the supper.
did n't you tell me to do what i liked?"
the girl left the kitchen and climbed up on the roof of the castle and looked out.
far, far away, so far that she could hardly see it, was the glow of a fire."
i will go and fetch a burning coal from there and light my fire," thought she, and opened the door of the castle.
when she reached the place where the fire was kindled, a hideous man-eater was crouching over it.
"peace be with you, grandfather," said she.
"the same to you," replied the man-eater.
"what brings you here, udea?'"
i came to ask for a lump of burning coal, to light my fire with."
-lsb- illustration: the maneater -rsb- "do you want a big lump or a little lump?"
"why, what difference does it make?"
said she.
"if you have a big lump you must give me a strip of your skin from your ear to your thumb, and if you have a little lump, you must give me a strip from your ear to your little finger."
udea, who thought that one sounded as bad as the other, said she would take the big lump, and when the man-eater had cut the skin, she went home again.
and as she hastened on a raven beheld the blood on the ground, and plastered it with earth, and stayed by her till she reached the castle.
and as she entered the door he flew past, and she shrieked from fright, for up to that moment she had not seen him.
in her terror she called after him, "may you get the same start as you have given me!"
"why should you wish me harm," asked the raven, pausing in his flight, "when i have done you a service?"
"what service have you done me?"
said she.
"oh, you shall soon see," replied the raven, and with his bill he scraped away all the earth he had smeared over the blood and then flew away.
in the night the man-eater got up, and followed the blood till he came to udea's castle.
he entered through the gate which she had left open, and went on till he reached the inside of the house.
but here he was stopped by the seven doors, six of wood and one of iron, and all fast locked.
and he called through them "oh udea, what did you see your grandfather doing?'"
i saw him spread silk under him, and silk over him, and lay himself down in a four-post bed."
when he heard that, the man-eater broke in one door, and laughed and went away.
and the second night he came back, and asked her again what she had seen her grandfather doing, and she answered him as before, and he broke in another door, and laughed and went away, and so each night till he reached the seventh door.
then the maiden wrote a letter to her brothers, and bound it round the neck of a pigeon, and said to it, "oh, thou pigeon that servedst my father and my grandfather, carry this letter to my brothers, and come back at once."
and the pigeon flew away.
it flew and it flew and it flew till it found the brothers.
the eldest unfastened the letter from the pigeon's neck, and read what his sister had written: "i am in a great strait, my brothers.
if you do not rescue me to-night, to-morrow i shall be no longer living, for the man-eater has broken open six doors, and only the iron door is left.
so haste, haste, post haste."
"quick, quick!
my brothers," cried he.
"what is the matter?"
asked they.
"if we can not reach our sister to-night, to-morrow she will be the prey of the man-eater."
and without more words they sprang on their horses, and rode like the wind.
the gate of the castle was thrown down, and they entered the court and called loudly to their sister.
but the poor girl was so ill with fear and anxiety that she could not even speak.
then the brothers dismounted and passed through the six open doors, till they stood before the iron one, which was still shut.
"udea, open!"
they cried, "it is only your brothers!"
and she arose and unlocked the door, and throwing herself on the neck of the eldest burst into tears.
"tell us what has happened," he said, "and how the man-eater traced you here."
"it is all the cat's fault," replied udea.
"she put out my fire so that i could not cook.
all about a bean!
i ate one and forgot to give her any of it."
"but we told you so particularly," said the eldest brother, "never to eat anything without sharing it with the cat."
"yes, but i tell you i forgot," answered udea.
"does the man-eater come here every night?"
asked the brothers.
"every night," said udea, "and he breaks one door in and then goes away."
then all the brothers cried together, "we will dig a great hole, and fill it with burning wood, and spread a covering over the top; and when the man-eater arrives we will push him into it."
so they all set to work, and prepared the great hole, and set fire to the wood, till it was reduced to a mass of glowing charcoal.
and when the man-eater came, and called as usual, "udea, what did you see your grandfather doing?"
she answered," i saw him pull off the ass's skin and devour the ass, and he fell in the fire, and the fire burned him up."
then the man-eater was filled with rage, and he flung himself upon the iron door and burst it in.
on the other side stood udea's seven brothers, who said, "come, rest yourself a little on this mat."
and the man-eater sat down, and he fell right into the burning pit which was under the mat, and they heaped on more wood, till nothing was left of him, not even a bone.
only one of his finger-nails was blown away, and fell into an upper chamber where udea was standing, and stuck under one of the nails of her own fingers.
and she sank lifeless to the earth.
-lsb- illustration: udea found lifeless by her seven brothers -rsb- meanwhile her brothers sat below waiting for her and wondering why she did not come.
"what can have happened to her!"
exclaimed the eldest brother.
"perhaps she has fallen into the fire, too."
so one of the others ran upstairs and found his sister stretched on the floor.
"udea!
udea!"
he cried, but she did not move or reply.
then he saw that she was dead, and rushed down to his brothers in the courtyard and called out, "come quickly, our sister is dead!"
in a moment they were all beside her and knew that it was true, and they made a bier and laid her on it, and placed her across a camel, and said to the camel, "take her to her mother, but be careful not to halt by the way, and let no man capture you, and see you kneel down before no man, save him who shall say "string" -lsb- 1 -rsb- to you.
but to him who says "string," then kneel."
-lsb- footnote 1: "riemen." -rsb-
so the camel started, and when it had accomplished half its journey it met three men, who ran after it in order to catch it; but they could not.
then they cried "stop!"
but the camel only went the faster.
the three men panted behind till one said to the others, "wait a minute!
the string of my sandal is broken!"
the camel caught the word "string" and knelt down at once, and the men came up and found a dead girl lying on a bier, with a ring on her finger.
and as one of the young men took hold of her hand to pull off the ring, he knocked out the man-eater's finger-nail, which had stuck there, and the maiden sat up and said, "let him live who gave me life, and slay him who slew me!"
and when the camel heard the maiden speak, it turned and carried her back to her brothers.
now the brothers were still seated in the court bewailing their sister, and their eyes were dim with weeping so that they could hardly see.
and when the camel stood before them they said, "perhaps it has brought back our sister!"
and rose to give it a beating.
but the camel knelt down and the girl dismounted, and they flung themselves on her neck and wept more than ever for gladness.
"tell me," said the eldest, as soon as he could speak, "how it all came about, and what killed you.'"
i was waiting in the upper chamber," said she, "and a nail of the man-eater's stuck under my nail, and i fell dead upon the ground.
that is all i know."
"but who pulled out the nail?"
asked he."
a man took hold of my hand and tried to pull off my ring, and the nail jumped out and i was alive again.
and when the camel heard me say "let him live who gave me life, slay him who slew me!"
it turned and brought me back to the castle.
that is my story."
she was silent and the eldest brother spoke.
"will you listen to what i have to say, my brothers?"
and they replied, "how should we not hear you?
are you not our father as well as our brother?"
"then this is my advice.
let us take our sister back to our father and mother, that we may see them once more before they die."
and the young men agreed, and they mounted their horses and placed their sister in a litter on the camel.
so they set out.
at the end of five days" journey they reached the old home where their father and mother dwelt alone.
and the heart of their father rejoiced, and he said to them, "dear sons, why did you go away and leave your mother and me to weep for you night and day?"
"dear father," answered the son, "let us rest a little now, and then i will tell you everything from the beginning."
"all right," replied the father, and waited patiently for three days.
and on the morning of the fourth day the eldest brother said, "dear father, would you like to hear our adventures?"
"certainly i should!"
"well, it was our aunt who was the cause of our leaving home, for we agreed that if the baby was a sister she should wave a white handkerchief, and if it was a brother, she should brandish a sickle, for then there would be nothing to come back for, and we might wander far away.
now our aunt could not bear us, and hated us to live in the same house with her, so she brandished the sickle, and we went away.
that is all our story."
and that is all this story.
-lsb- märchen und gedichte aus der stadt tripolis.
von hans stumme. -rsb-
the white wolf once upon a time there was a king who had three daughters; they were all beautiful, but the youngest was the fairest of the three.
now it happened that one day their father had to set out for a tour in a distant part of his kingdom.
before he left, his youngest daughter made him promise to bring her back a wreath of wild flowers.
when the king was ready to return to his palace, he bethought himself that he would like to take home presents to each of his three daughters; so he went into a jeweller's shop, and bought a beautiful necklace for the eldest princess; then he went to a rich merchant's and bought a dress embroidered in gold and silver thread for the second princess, but in none of the flower shops nor in the market could he find the wreath of wild flowers that his youngest daughter had set her heart on.
so he had to set out on his homeward way without it.
now his journey led him through a thick forest.
while he was still about four miles distant from his palace, he noticed a white wolf squatting on the roadside, and, behold!
on the head of the wolf, there was a wreath of wild flowers.
then the king called to the coachman, and ordered him to get down from his seat and fetch him the wreath from the wolf's head.
but the wolf heard the order and said: "my lord and king, i will let you have the wreath, but i must have something in return."
"what do you want?"
answered the king."
i will gladly give you rich treasure in exchange for it.'"
i do not want rich treasure," replied the wolf.
"only promise to give me the first thing that meets you on your way to your castle.
in three days i shall come and fetch it."
and the king thought to himself: "i am still a good long way from home, i am sure to meet a wild animal or a bird on the road, it will be quite safe to promise."
so he consented, and carried the wreath away with him.
but all along the road he met no living creature till he turned into the palace gates, where his youngest daughter was waiting to welcome him home.
that evening the king was very sad, remembering his promise; and when he told the queen what had happened, she too shed bitter tears.
and the youngest princess asked them why they both looked so sad, and why they wept.
then her father told her what a price he would have to pay for the wreath of wild flowers he had brought home to her, for in three days a white wolf would come and claim her and carry her away, and they would never see her again.
but the queen thought and thought, and at last she hit upon a plan.
there was in the palace a servant maid the same age and the same height as the princess, and the queen dressed her up in a beautiful dress belonging to her daughter, and determined to give her to the white wolf, who would never know the difference.
on the third day the wolf strode into the palace yard and up the great stairs, to the room where the king and queen were seated."
i have come to claim your promise," he said.
"give me your youngest daughter."
then they led the servant maid up to him, and he said to her: "you must mount on my back, and i will take you to my castle."
and with these words he swung her on to his back and left the palace.
when they reached the place where he had met the king and given him the wreath of wild flowers, he stopped, and told her to dismount that they might rest a little.
so they sat down by the roadside."
i wonder," said the wolf, "what your father would do if this forest belonged to him?"
and the girl answered: "my father is a poor man, so he would cut down the trees, and saw them into planks, and he would sell the planks, and we should never be poor again; but would always have enough to eat."
then the wolf knew that he had not got the real princess, and he swung the servant-maid on to his back and carried her to the castle.
and he strode angrily into the king's chamber, and spoke.
"give me the real princess at once.
if you deceive me again i will cause such a storm to burst over your palace that the walls will fall in, and you will all be buried in the ruins."
then the king and the queen wept, but they saw there was no escape.
so they sent for their youngest daughter, and the king said to her: "dearest child, you must go with the white wolf, for i promised you to him, and i must keep my word."
so the princess got ready to leave her home; but first she went to her room to fetch her wreath of wild flowers, which she took with her.
then the white wolf swung her on his back and bore her away.
but when they came to the place where he had rested with the servant-maid, he told her to dismount that they might rest for a little at the roadside.
then he turned to her and said: "i wonder what your father would do if this forest belonged to him?"
-lsb- illustration: the · white · wolf · asks · the · princess · a · question · in · the · wood -rsb- and the princess answered: "my father would cut down the trees and turn it into a beautiful park and gardens, and he and his courtiers would come and wander among the glades in the summer time."
"this is the real princess," said the wolf to himself.
but aloud he said: "mount once more on my back, and i will bear you to my castle."
and when she was seated on his back he set out through the woods, and he ran, and ran, and ran, till at last he stopped in front of a stately courtyard, with massive gates.
"this is a beautiful castle," said the princess, as the gates swung back and she stepped inside.
"if only i were not so far away from my father and my mother!"
but the wolf answered: "at the end of a year we will pay a visit to your father and mother."
and at these words the white furry skin slipped from his back, and the princess saw that he was not a wolf at all, but a beautiful youth, tall and stately; and he gave her his hand, and led her up the castle stairs.
one day, at the end of half a year, he came into her room and said: "my dear one, you must get ready for a wedding.
your eldest sister is going to be married, and i will take you to your father's palace.
when the wedding is over, i shall come and fetch you home.
i will whistle outside the gate, and when you hear me, pay no heed to what your father or mother say, leave your dancing and feasting, and come to me at once; for if i have to leave without you, you will never find your way back alone through the forests."
when the princess was ready to start, she found that he had put on his white fur skin, and was changed back into the wolf; and he swung her on to his back, and set out with her to her father's palace, where he left her, while he himself returned home alone.
but, in the evening, he went back to fetch her, and, standing outside the palace gate, he gave a long, loud whistle.
in the midst of her dancing the princess heard the sound, and at once she went to him, and he swung her on his back and bore her away to his castle.
again, at the end of half a year, the prince came into her room, as the white wolf, and said: "dear heart, you must prepare for the wedding of your second sister.
i will take you to your father's palace to-day, and we will remain there together till to-morrow morning."
so they went together to the wedding.
in the evening, when the two were alone together, he dropped his fur skin, and, ceasing to be a wolf, became a prince again.
now they did not know that the princess's mother was hidden in the room.
when she saw the white skin lying on the floor, she crept out of the room, and sent a servant to fetch the skin and to burn it in the kitchen fire.
the moment the flames touched the skin there was a fearful clap of thunder heard, and the prince disappeared out of the palace gate in a whirlwind, and returned to his palace alone.
but the princess was heart-broken, and spent the night weeping bitterly.
next morning she set out to find her way back to the castle, but she wandered through the woods and forests, and she could find no path or track to guide her.
for fourteen days she roamed in the forest, sleeping under the trees, and living upon wild berries and roots, and at last she reached a little house.
she opened the door and went in, and found the wind seated in the room all by himself, and she spoke to the wind and said: "wind, have you seen the white wolf?"
and the wind answered: "all day and all night i have been blowing round the world, and i have only just come home; but i have not seen him."
but he gave her a pair of shoes, in which, he told her, she would be able to walk a hundred miles with every step, then she walked through the air till she reached a star, and she said: "tell me, star, have you seen the white wolf?"
and the star answered: "i have been shining all night, and i have not seen him."
but the star gave her a pair of shoes, and told her that if she put them on she would be able to walk two hundred miles at a stride.
so she drew them on, and she walked to the moon, and she said: "dear moon, have you not seen the white wolf?"
but the moon answered, "all night long i have been sailing through the heavens, and i have only just come home; but i did not see him."
but he gave her a pair of shoes, in which she would be able to cover four hundred miles with every stride.
so she went to the sun, and said: "dear sun, have you seen the white wolf?"
and the sun answered, "yes, i have seen him, and he has chosen another bride, for he thought you had left him, and would never return, and he is preparing for the wedding.
but i will help you.
here are a pair of shoes.
if you put these on you will be able to walk on glass or ice, and to climb the steepest places.
and here is a spinning-wheel, with which you will be able to spin moss into silk.
when you leave me you will reach a glass mountain.
put on the shoes that i have given you and with them you will be able to climb it quite easily.
at the summit you will find the palace of the white wolf."
then the princess set out, and before long she reached the glass mountain, and at the summit she found the white wolf's palace, as the sun had said.
but no one recognised her, as she had disguised herself as an old woman, and had wound a shawl round her head.
great preparations were going on in the palace for the wedding, which was to take place next day.
then the princess, still disguised as an old woman, took out her spinning-wheel, and began to spin moss into silk.
and as she spun the new bride passed by, and seeing the moss turn into silk, she said to the old woman: "little mother, i wish you would give me that spinning-wheel."
-lsb- illustration: the bride wishes to buy the spinning-wheel -rsb- and the princess answered," i will give it to you if you will allow me to sleep to-night on the mat outside the prince's door."
and the bride replied, "yes, you may sleep on the mat outside the door."
so the princess gave her the spinning-wheel.
and that night, winding the shawl all round her, so that no one could recognise her, she lay down on the mat outside the white wolf's door.
and when everyone in the palace was asleep she began to tell the whole of her story.
she told how she had been one of three sisters, and that she had been the youngest and the fairest of the three, and that her father had betrothed her to a white wolf.
and she told how she had gone first to the wedding of one sister, and then with her husband to the wedding of the other sister, and how her mother had ordered the servant to throw the white fur skin into the kitchen fire.
and then she told of her wanderings through the forest; and of how she had sought the white wolf weeping; and how the wind and star and moon and sun had befriended her, and had helped her to reach his palace.
and when the white wolf heard all the story, he knew that it was his first wife, who had sought him, and had found him, after such great dangers and difficulties.
but he said nothing, for he waited till the next day, when many guests -- kings and princes from far countries -- were coming to his wedding.
then, when all the guests were assembled in the banqueting hall, he spoke to them and said: "hearken to me, ye kings and princes, for i have something to tell you.
i had lost the key of my treasure casket, so i ordered a new one to be made; but i have since found the old one.
now, which of these keys is the better?"
then all the kings and royal guests answered: "certainly the old key is better than the new one."
"then," said the wolf, "if that is so, my former bride is better than my new one."
and he sent for the new bride, and he gave her in marriage to one of the princes who was present, and then he turned to his guests, and said: "and here is my former bride" -- and the beautiful princess was led into the room and seated beside him on his throne."
i thought she had forgotten me, and that she would never return.
but she has sought me everywhere, and now we are together once more we shall never part again."
mohammed with the magic finger once upon a time, there lived a woman who had a son and a daughter.
one morning she said to them: "i have heard of a town where there is no such thing as death: let us go and dwell there."
so she broke up her house, and went away with her son and daughter.
when she reached the city, the first thing she did was to look about and see if there was any churchyard, and when she found none, she exclaimed, "this is a delightful spot.
we will stay here for ever."
by-and-by, her son grew to be a man, and he took for a wife a girl who had been born in the town.
but after a little while he grew restless, and went away on his travels, leaving his mother, his wife, and his sister behind him.
he had not been gone many weeks when one evening his mother said," i am not well, my head aches dreadfully."
"what did you say?"
inquired her daughter-in-law.
"my head feels ready to split," replied the old woman.
the daughter-in-law asked no more questions, but left the house, and went in haste to some butchers in the next street."
i have got a woman to sell; what will you give me for her?"
said she.
the butchers answered that they must see the woman first, and they all returned together.
then the butchers took the woman and told her they must kill her.
"but why?"
she asked.
"because," they said, "it is always our custom that when persons are ill and complain of their head they should be killed at once.
it is a much better way than leaving them to die a natural death."
"very well," replied the woman.
"but leave, i pray you, my lungs and my liver untouched, till my son comes back.
then give both to him."
but the men took them out at once, and gave them to the daughter-in-law, saying: "put away these things till your husband returns."
and the daughter-in-law took them, and hid them in a secret place.
when the old woman's daughter, who had been in the woods, heard that her mother had been killed while she was out, she was filled with fright, and ran away as fast as she could.
at last she reached a lonely spot far from the town, where she thought she was safe, and sat down on a stone, and wept bitterly.
as she was sitting, sobbing, a man passed by.
"what is the matter, little girl?
answer me!
i will be your friend."
"ah, sir, they have killed my mother; my brother is far away, and i have nobody."
"will you come with me?"
asked the man.
"thankfully," said she, and he led her down, down, under the earth, till they reached a great city.
then he married her, and in course of time she had a son.
and the baby was known throughout the city as "mohammed with the magic finger," because, whenever he stuck out his little finger, he was able to see anything that was happening for as far as two days" distance.
by-and-by, as the boy was growing bigger, his uncle returned from his long journey, and went straight to his wife.
"where are my mother and sister?"
he asked; but his wife answered; "have something to eat first, and then i will tell you."
but he replied: "how can i eat till i know what has become of them?"
then she fetched, from the upper chamber, a box full of money, which she laid before him, saying, "that is the price of your mother.
she sold well."
"what do you mean?"
he gasped.
"oh, your mother complained one day that her head was aching, so i got in two butchers and they agreed to take her.
however, i have got her lungs and liver hidden, till you came back, in a safe place."
"and my sister?"
"well, while the people were chopping up your mother she ran away, and i heard no more of her."
"give me my mother's liver and lungs," said the young man.
and she gave them to him.
then he put them in his pocket, and went away, saying: "i can stay no longer in this horrible town.
i go to seek my sister."
now, one day, the little boy stretched out his finger and said to his mother, "my uncle is coming!"
-lsb- illustration: my uncle is coming -rsb- "where is he?"
she asked.
"he is still two days" journey off: looking for us; but he will soon be here."
and in two days, as the boy had foretold, the uncle had found the hole in the earth, and arrived at the gate of the city.
all his money was spent, and not knowing where his sister lived, he began to beg of all the people he saw.
"here comes my uncle," called out the little boy.
"where?"
asked his mother.
"here at the house door;" and the woman ran out and embraced him, and wept over him.
when they could both speak, he said: "my sister, were you by when they killed my mother?'"
i was absent when they slew her," replied she, "and as i could do nothing, i ran away.
but you, my brother, how did you get here?"
"by chance," he said, "after i had wandered far; but i did not know i should find you!"
"my little boy told me you were coming," she explained, "when you were yet two days distant; he alone of all men has that great gift."
but she did not tell him that her husband could change himself into a serpent, a dog, or a monster, whenever he pleased.
he was a very rich man, and possessed large herds of camels, goats, sheep, cattle, horses and asses; all the best of their kind.
and the next morning, the sister said: "dear brother, go and watch our sheep, and when you are thirsty, drink their milk!"
"very well," answered he, and he went.
soon after, she said again, "dear brother, go and watch our goats."
"but why?
i like tending sheep better!"
"oh, it is much nicer to be a goatherd," she said; so he took the goats out.
when he was gone, she said to her husband, "you must kill my brother, for i can not have him living here with me."
"but, my dear, why should i?
he has done me no harm.'"
i wish you to kill him," she answered, "or if not i will leave."
"oh, all right, then," said he; "to-morrow i will change myself into a serpent, and hide myself in the date barrel; and when he comes to fetch dates i will sting him in the hand."
"that will do very well," said she.
when the sun was up next day, she called to her brother, "go and mind the goats."
"yes, of course," he replied; but the little boy called out: "uncle, i want to come with you."
"delighted," said the uncle, and they started together.
after they had got out of sight of the house the boy said to him, "dear uncle, my father is going to kill you.
he has changed himself into a serpent, and has hidden himself in the date barrel.
my mother has told him to do it."
"and what am i to do?"
asked the uncle."
i will tell you.
when we bring the goats back to the house, and my mother says to you, "i am sure you must be hungry: get a few dates out of the cask," just say to me, "i am not feeling very well, mohammed, you go and get them for me.""
so when they reached the house the sister came out to meet them, saying, "dear brother, you must certainly be hungry: go and get a few dates."
but he answered," i am not feeling very well.
mohammed, you go and get them for me."
"of course i will," replied the little boy, and ran at once to the cask.
"no, no," his mother called after him; "come here directly!
let your uncle fetch them himself!"
but the boy would not listen, and crying out to her," i would rather get them," thrust his hand into the date cask.
instead of the fruit, it struck against something cold and slimy, and he whispered softly, "keep still; it is i, your son!"
then he picked up his dates and went away to his uncle.
"here they are, dear uncle; eat as many as you want."
and his uncle ate them.
when he saw that the uncle did not mean to come near the cask, the serpent crawled out and regained his proper shape."
i am thankful i did not kill him," he said to his wife; "for, after all, he is my brother-in-law, and it would have been a great sin!"
"either you kill him or i leave you," said she.
"well, well!"
sighed the man, "to-morrow i will do it."
the woman let that night go by without doing anything further, but at daybreak she said to her brother, "get up, brother; it is time to take the goats to pasture!"
"all right," cried he."
i will come with you, uncle," called out the little boy.
"yes, come along," replied he.
but the mother ran up, saying, "the child must not go out in this cold or he will be ill;" to which he only answered, "nonsense!
i am going, so it is no use your talking!
i am going!
i am!
i am!"
"then go!"
she said.
and so they started, driving the goats in front of them.
when they reached the pasture the boy said to his uncle: "dear uncle, this night my father means to kill you.
while we are away he will creep into your room and hide in the straw.
directly we get home my mother will say to you, "take that straw and give it to the sheep," and, if you do, he will bite you."
"then what am i to do?"
asked the man.
"oh, do not be afraid, dear uncle!
i will kill my father myself."
"all right," replied the uncle.
as they drove back the goats towards the house, the sister cried: "be quick, dear brother, go and get me some straw for the sheep."
"let me go," said the boy.
"you are not big enough; your uncle will get it," replied she.
"we will both get it," answered the boy; "come, uncle, let us go and fetch that straw!"
"all right," replied the uncle, and they went to the door of the room.
"it seems very dark," said the boy;" i must go and get a light;" and when he came back with one, he set fire to the straw, and the serpent was burnt.
then the mother broke into sobs and tears.
"oh, you wretched boy!
what have you done?
your father was in that straw, and you have killed him!"
"now, how was i to know that my father was lying in that straw, instead of in the kitchen?"
said the boy.
but his mother only wept the more, and sobbed out, "from this day you have no father.
you must do without him as best you can!"
"why did you marry a serpent?"
asked the boy."
i thought he was a man!
how did he learn those odd tricks?"
as the sun rose, she woke her brother, and said, "go and take the goats to pasture!'"
i will come too," said the little boy.
"go then!"
said his mother, and they went together.
on the way the boy began: "dear uncle, this night my mother means to kill both of us, by poisoning us with the bones of the serpent, which she will grind to powder and sprinkle in our food."
"and what are we to do?"
asked the uncle."
i will kill her, dear uncle.
i do not want either a father or a mother like that!"
when they came home in the evening they saw the woman preparing supper, and secretly scattering the powdered bones of the serpent on one side of the dish.
on the other, where she meant to eat herself, there was no poison.
and the boy whispered to his uncle, "dear uncle, be sure you eat from the same side of the dish as i do!"
"all right," said the uncle.
so they all three sat down to the table, but before they helped themselves the boy said," i am thirsty, mother; will you get me some milk?"
"very well," said she, "but you had better begin your supper."
and when she came back with the milk they were both eating busily.
"sit down and have something too," said the boy, and she sat down and helped herself from the dish, but at the very first moment she sank dead upon the ground.
"she has got what she meant for us," observed the boy; "and now we will sell all the sheep and cattle."
so the sheep and cattle were sold, and the uncle and nephew took the money and went to see the world.
for ten days they travelled through the desert, and then they came to a place where the road parted in two.
"uncle!"
said the boy.
"well, what is it?"
replied he.
"you see these two roads?
you must take one, and i the other; for the time has come when we must part."
but the uncle cried, "no, no, my boy, we will keep together always."
"alas!
that can not be," said the boy; "so tell me which way you will go.'"
i will go to the west," said the uncle.
"one word before i leave you," continued the boy.
"beware of any man who has red hair and blue eyes.
take no service under him."
"all right," replied the uncle, and they parted.
for three days the man wandered on without any food, till he was very hungry.
then, when he was almost fainting, a stranger met him and said, "will you work for me?"
"by contract?"
asked the man.
"yes, by contract," replied the stranger, "and whichever of us breaks it, shall have a strip of skin taken from his body."
"all right," replied the man; "what shall i have to do?"
"every day you must take the sheep out to pasture, and carry my old mother on your shoulders, taking great care her feet shall never touch the ground.
and, besides that, you must catch, every evening, seven singing birds for my seven sons."
"that is easily done," said the man.
then they went back together, and the stranger said, "here are your sheep: and now stoop down, and let my mother climb on your back."
"very good," answered mohammed's uncle.
the new shepherd did as he was told, and returned in the evening with the old woman on his back, and the seven singing birds in his pocket, which he gave to the seven boys, when they came to meet him.
so the days passed, each one exactly like the other.
at last, one night, he began to weep, and cried: "oh, what have i done, that i should have to perform such hateful tasks?"
and his nephew mohammed saw him from afar, and thought to himself, "my uncle is in trouble -- i must go and help him;" and the next morning he went to his master and said: "dear master, i must go to my uncle, and i wish to send him here instead of myself, while i serve under his master.
and that you may know it is he and no other man, i will give him my staff, and put my mantle on him."
"all right," said the master.
mohammed set out on his journey, and in two days he arrived at the place where his uncle was standing with the old woman on his back, trying to catch the birds as they flew past.
and mohammed touched him on the arm, and spoke: "dear uncle, did i not warn you never to take service under any blue-eyed red-haired man?"
-lsb- illustration: · how · mohammed · finds · his · uncle · -rsb- "but what could i do?"
asked the uncle."
i was hungry, and he passed, and we signed a contract."
"give the contract to me!"
said the young man.
"here it is," replied the uncle, holding it out.
"now," continued mohammed, "let the old woman get down from your back."
"oh no, i must n't do that!"
cried he.
but the nephew paid no attention, and went on talking: "do not worry yourself about the future.
i see my way out of it all.
and, first, you must take my stick and my mantle and leave this place.
after two days" journey, straight before you, you will come to some tents which are inhabited by shepherds.
go in there, and wait."
"all right!"
answered the uncle.
then mohammed with the magic finger picked up a stick and struck the old woman with it, saying, "get down, and look after the sheep; i want to go to sleep."
"oh, certainly!"
replied she.
so mohammed lay down comfortably under a tree and slept till evening.
towards sunset he woke up and said to the old woman: "where are the singing birds which you have got to catch?"
"you never told me anything about that," replied she.
"oh, did n't i?"
he answered.
"well, it is part of your business, and if you do n't do it, i shall just kill you."
"of course i will catch them!"
cried she in a hurry, and ran about the bushes after the birds, till thorns pierced her foot, and she shrieked from pain and exclaimed, "oh dear, how unlucky i am!
and how abominably this man is treating me!"
however, at last she managed to catch the seven birds, and brought them to mohammed, saying, "here they are!"
"then now we will go back to the house," said he.
when they had gone some way he turned to her sharply: "be quick and drive the sheep home, for i do not know where their fold is."
and she drove them before her.
by-and-by the young man spoke: "look here, old hag; if you say anything to your son about my having struck you, or about my not being the old shepherd, i'll kill you!"
"oh, no, of course i wo n't say anything!"
when they got back, the son said to his mother: "that is a good shepherd i've got, is n't he?"
"oh, a splendid shepherd!"
answered she.
"why, look how fat the sheep are, and how much milk they give!"
"yes, indeed!"
replied the son, as he rose to get supper for his mother and the shepherd.
in the time of mohammed's uncle, the shepherd had had nothing to eat but the scraps left by the old woman; but the new shepherd was not going to be content with that.
"you will not touch the food till i have had as much as i want," whispered he.
"very good!"
replied she.
and when he had had enough, he said: "now, eat!"
but she wept, and cried: "that was not written in your contract.
you were only to have what i left!"
"if you say a word more, i will kill you!"
said he.
the next day he took the old woman on his back, and drove the sheep in front of him till he was some distance from the house, when he let her fall, and said: "quick!
go and mind the sheep!"
then he took a ram, and killed it.
he lit a fire and broiled some of its flesh, and called to the old woman: "come and eat with me!"
and she came.
but instead of letting her eat quietly, he took a large lump of the meat and rammed it down her throat with his crook, so that she died.
and when he saw she was dead, he said: "that is what you have got for tormenting my uncle!"
and left her lying where she was, while he went after the singing birds.
it took him a long time to catch them; but at length he had the whole seven hidden in the pockets of his tunic, and then he threw the old woman's body into some bushes, and drove the sheep before him, back to their fold.
and when they drew near the house the seven boys came to meet him, and he gave a bird to each.
"why are you weeping?"
asked the boys, as they took their birds.
"because your grandmother is dead!"
and they ran and told their father.
then the man came up and said to mohammed: "what was the matter?
how did she die?"
and mohammed answered: "i was tending the sheep when she said to me, "kill me that ram; i am hungry!"
so i killed it, and gave her the meat.
but she had no teeth, and it choked her."
"but why did you kill the ram, instead of one of the sheep?"
asked the man.
"what was i to do?"
said mohammed."
i had to obey orders!"
"well, i must see to her burial!"
said the man; and the next morning mohammed drove out the sheep as usual, thinking to himself, "thank goodness i've got rid of the old woman!
now for the boys!"
all day long he looked after the sheep, and towards evening he began to dig some little holes in the ground, out of which he took six scorpions.
these he put in his pockets, together with one bird which he caught.
after this he drove his flock home.
when he approached the house the boys came out to meet him as before, saying: "give me my bird!"
and he put a scorpion into the hand of each, and it stung him, and he died.
but to the youngest only he gave a bird.
as soon as he saw the boys lying dead on the ground, mohammed lifted up his voice and cried loudly: "help, help!
the children are dead!"
and the people came running fast, saying: "what has happened?
how have they died?"
and mohammed answered: "it was your own fault!
the boys had been accustomed to birds, and in this bitter cold their fingers grew stiff, and could hold nothing, so that the birds flew away, and their spirits flew with them.
only the youngest, who managed to keep tight hold of his bird, is still alive."
and the father groaned, and said," i have borne enough!
bring no more birds, lest i lose the youngest also!"
"all right," said mohammed.
as he was driving the sheep out to grass he said to his master: "out there is a splendid pasture, and i will keep the sheep there for two or, perhaps, three days, so do not be surprised at our absence."
"very good!"
said the man; and mohammed started.
for two days he drove them on and on, till he reached his uncle, and said to him, "dear uncle, take these sheep and look after them.
i have killed the old woman and the boys, and the flock i have brought to you!"
then mohammed returned to his master; and on the way he took a stone and beat his own head with it till it bled, and bound his hands tight, and began to scream.
the master came running and asked, "what is the matter?"
and mohammed answered: "while the sheep were grazing, robbers came and drove them away, and because i tried to prevent them, they struck me on the head and bound my hands.
see how bloody i am!"
"what shall we do?"
said the master; "are the animals far off?"
"so far that you are not likely ever to see them again," replied mohammed.
"this is the fourth day since the robbers came down.
how should you be able to overtake them?"
"then go and herd the cows!"
said the man.
"all right!"
replied mohammed, and for two days he went.
but on the third day he drove the cows to his uncle, first cutting off their tails.
only one cow he left behind him.
"take these cows, dear uncle," said he."
i am going to teach that man a lesson."
"well, i suppose you know your own business best," said the uncle.
"and certainly he almost worried me to death."
so mohammed returned to his master, carrying the cows" tails tied up in a bundle on his back.
when he came to the sea-shore, he stuck all the tails in the sand, and went and buried the one cow, whose tail he had not cut off, up to her neck, leaving the tail projecting.
after he had got everything ready, he began to shriek and scream as before, till his master and all the other servants came running to see what was the matter.
"what in the world has happened?"
they cried.
"the sea has swallowed up the cows," said mohammed, "and nothing remains but their tails.
but if you are quick and pull hard, perhaps you may get them out again!"
the master ordered each man instantly to take hold of a tail, but at the first pull they nearly tumbled backwards, and the tails were left in their hands.
"stop," cried mohammed, "you are doing it all wrong.
you have just pulled off their tails, and the cows have sunk to the bottom of the sea."
"see if you can do it any better," said they; and mohammed ran to the cow which he had buried in the rough grass, and took hold of her tail and dragged the animal out at once.
"there!
that is the way to do it!"
said he," i told you you knew nothing about it!"
the men slunk away, much ashamed of themselves; but the master came up to mohammed.
"get you gone!"
he said, "there is nothing more for you to do!
you have killed my mother, you have slain my children, you have stolen my sheep, you have drowned my cows; i have now no work to give you."
"first give me the strip of your skin which belongs to me of right, as you have broken your contract!"
"that a judge shall decide," said the master; "we will go before him."
"yes, we will," replied mohammed.
and they went before the judge.
"what is your case?"
asked the judge of the master.
"my lord," said the man, bowing low, "my shepherd here has robbed me of everything.
he has killed my children and my old mother; he has stolen my sheep, he has drowned my cows in the sea."
the shepherd answered: "he must pay me what he owes me, and then i will go."
"yes, that is the law," said the judge.
"very well," returned the master, "let him reckon up how long he has been in my service."
"that wo n't do," replied mohammed," i want my strip of skin, as we agreed in the contract."
seeing there was no help for it, the master cut a bit of skin, and gave it to mohammed, who went off at once to his uncle.
"now we are rich, dear uncle," cried he, "we will sell our cows and sheep and go to a new country.
this one is no longer the place for us."
the sheep were soon sold, and the two comrades started on their travels.
that night they reached some bedouin tents, where they had supper with the arabs.
before they lay down to sleep, mohammed called the owner of the tent aside.
"your greyhound will eat my strip of leather," he said to the arab.
"no; do not fear."
"but supposing he does?"
"well, then, i will give him to you in exchange," replied the arab.
mohammed waited till everyone was fast asleep, then he rose softly, and tearing the bit of skin in pieces, threw it down before the greyhound, setting up wild shrieks as he did so.
"oh, master, said i not well that your dog would eat my thong?"
"be quiet, do n't make such a noise, and you shall have the dog."
so mohammed put a leash round his neck, and led him away.
in the evening they arrived at the tents of some more bedouin, and asked for shelter.
after supper mohammed said to the owner of the tent, "your ram will kill my greyhound."
"oh, no, he wo n't."
"and supposing he does?"
"then you can take him in exchange."
so in the night mohammed killed the greyhound, and laid his body across the horns of the ram.
then he set up shrieks and yells, till he roused the arab, who said "take the ram and go away."
mohammed did not need to be told twice, and at sunset he reached another bedouin encampment.
he was received kindly, as usual, and after supper he said to his host: "your daughter will kill my ram."
"be silent, she will do nothing of the sort; my daughter does not need to steal meat, she has some every day."
"very well, i will go to sleep; but if anything happens to my ram i will call out."
"if my daughter touches anything belonging to my guest i will kill her," said the arab, and went to his bed.
when everybody was asleep, mohammed got up, killed the ram, and took out his liver, which he broiled on the fire.
he placed a piece of it in the girl's hands, and laid some more on her night-dress while she slept and knew nothing about it.
after this he began to cry out loudly.
"what is the matter?
be silent at once!"
called the arab.
"how can i be silent, when my ram, which i loved like a child, has been slain by your daughter?"
"but my daughter is asleep," said the arab.
"well, go and see if she has not some of the flesh about her."
"if she has, you may take her in exchange for the ram;" and as they found the flesh exactly as mohammed had foretold, the arab gave his daughter a good beating, and then told her to get out of sight, for she was now the property of this stranger.
they wandered in the desert till, at nightfall, they came to a bedouin encampment, where they were hospitably bidden to enter.
before lying down to sleep, mohammed said to the owner of the tent: "your mare will kill my wife."
"certainly not."
"and if she does?"
"then you shall take the mare in exchange."
when everyone was asleep, mohammed said softly to his wife: "maiden, i have got such a clever plan!
i am going to bring in the mare and put it at your feet, and i will cut you, just a few little flesh wounds, so that you may be covered with blood, and everybody will suppose you to be dead.
but remember that you must not make a sound, or we shall both be lost."
this was done, and then mohammed wept and wailed louder than ever.
the arab hastened to the spot and cried, "oh, cease making that terrible noise!
take the mare and go; but carry off the dead girl with you.
she can lie quite easily across the mare's back."
then mohammed and his uncle picked up the girl, and, placing her on the mare's back, led it away, being very careful to walk one on each side, so that she might not slip down and hurt herself.
after the arab tents could be seen no longer, the girl sat up on the saddle and looked about her, and as they were all hungry they tied up the mare, and took out some dates to eat.
when they had finished, mohammed said to his uncle: "dear uncle, the maiden shall be your wife; i give her to you.
but the money we got from the sheep and cows we will divide between us.
you shall have two-thirds and i will have one.
for you will have a wife, but i never mean to marry.
and now, go in peace, for never more will you see me.
the bond of bread and salt is at an end between us."
so they wept, and fell on each other's necks, and asked forgiveness for any wrongs in the past.
then they parted and went their ways.
-lsb- märchen und gedichte aus der stadt tripolis.
von hans stumme. -rsb-
bobino once on a time there was a rich merchant, who had an only son called bobino.
now, as the boy was clever, and had a great desire for knowledge, his father sent him to be under a master, from whom he thought he would learn to speak all sorts of foreign languages.
after some years with this master, bobino returned to his home.
one evening, as he and his father were walking in the garden, the sparrows in the trees above their heads began such a twittering, that they found it impossible to hear each other speak.
this annoyed the merchant very much, so, to soothe him, bobino said: "would you like me to explain to you what the sparrows are saying to each other?"
the merchant looked at his son in astonishment, and answered: "what can you mean?
how can you explain what the sparrows say?
do you consider yourself a soothsayer or a magician?'"
i am neither a soothsayer nor a magician," answered bobino; "but my master taught me the language of all the animals."
"alas!
for my good money!"
exclaimed the merchant.
"the master has certainly mistaken my intention.
of course i meant you to learn the languages that human beings talk, and not the language of animals."
"have patience," answered the son.
"my master thought it best to begin with the language of animals, and later to learn the languages of human beings."
on their way into the house the dog ran to meet them, barking furiously.
"what can be the matter with the beast?"
said the merchant.
"why should he bark at me like that, when he knows me quite well?"
"shall i explain to you what he is saying?"
said bobino.
"leave me in peace, and do n't trouble me with your nonsense," said the merchant quite crossly.
"how my money has been wasted!"
a little later, as they sat down to supper, some frogs in a neighbouring pond set up such a croaking as had never been heard.
the noise so irritated the merchant that he quite lost his temper and exclaimed: "this only was wanting to add the last drop to my discomfort and disappointment."
"shall i explain to you?"
began bobino.
"will you hold your tongue with your explanations?"
shouted the merchant.
"go to bed, and do n't let me see your face again!"
so bobino went to bed and slept soundly.
but his father, who could not get over his disappointment at the waste of his money, was so angry, that he sent for two servants, and gave them orders, which they were to carry out on the following day.
next morning one of the servants awakened bobino early, and made him get into a carriage that was waiting for him.
the servant placed himself on the seat beside him, while the other servant rode alongside the carriage as an escort.
bobino could not understand what they were going to do with him, or where he was being taken; but he noticed that the servant beside him looked very sad, and his eyes were all swollen with crying.
curious to know the reason he said to him: "why are you so sad?
and where are you taking me?"
but the servant would say nothing.
at last, moved by bobino's entreaties, he said: "my poor boy, i am taking you to your death, and, what is worse, i am doing so by the order of your father."
"but why," exclaimed bobino, "does he want me to die?
what evil have i done him, or what fault have i committed that he should wish to bring about my death?"
"you have done him no evil," answered the servant, "neither have you committed any fault; but he is half mad with anger because, in all these years of study, you have learnt nothing but the language of animals.
he expected something quite different from you, that is why he is determined you shall die."
"if that is the case, kill me at once," said bobino.
"what is the use of waiting, if it must be done?'"
i have not the heart to do it," answered the servant."
i would rather think of some way of saving your life, and at the same time of protecting ourselves from your father's anger.
by good luck the dog has followed us.
we will kill it, and cut out the heart and take it back to your father.
he will believe it is yours, and you, in the meantime, will have made your escape."
when they had reached the thickest part of the wood, bobino got out of the carriage, and having said good-bye to the servants set out on his wanderings.
on and on he walked, till at last, late in the evening, he came to a house where some herdsmen lived.
he knocked at the door and begged for shelter for the night.
the herdsmen, seeing how gentle a youth he seemed, made him welcome, and bade him sit down and share their supper.
while they were eating it, the dog in the courtyard began to bark.
bobino walked to the window, listened attentively for a minute, and then turning to the herdsmen said: "send your wives and daughters at once to bed, and arm yourselves as best you can, because at midnight a band of robbers will attack this house."
the herdsmen were quite taken aback, and thought that the youth must have taken leave of his senses.
"how can you know," they said, "that a band of robbers mean to attack us?
who told you so?'"
i know it from the dog's barking," answered bobino."
i understand his language, and if i had not been here, the poor beast would have wasted his breath to no purpose.
you had better follow my advice, if you wish to save your lives and property."
the herdsmen were more and more astonished, but they decided to do as bobino advised.
they sent their wives and daughters upstairs, then, having armed themselves, they took up their position behind a hedge, waiting for midnight.
just as the clock struck twelve they heard the sound of approaching footsteps, and a band of robbers cautiously advanced towards the house.
but the herdsmen were on the lookout; they sprang on the robbers from behind the hedge, and with blows from their cudgels soon put them to flight.
you may believe how grateful they were to bobino, to whose timely warning they owed their safety.
they begged him to stay and make his home with them; but as he wanted to see more of the world, he thanked them warmly for their hospitality, and set out once more on his wanderings.
all day he walked, and in the evening he came to a peasant's house.
while he was wondering whether he should knock and demand shelter for the night, he heard a great croaking of frogs in a ditch behind the house.
stepping to the back he saw a very strange sight.
four frogs were throwing a small bottle about from one to the other, making a great croaking as they did so.
bobino listened for a few minutes, and then knocked at the door of the house.
it was opened by the peasant, who asked him to come in and have some supper.
when the meal was over, his host told him that they were in great trouble, as his eldest daughter was so ill, that they feared she could not recover.
a great doctor, who had been passing that way some time before, had promised to send her some medicine that would have cured her, but the servant to whom he had entrusted the medicine had let it drop on the way back, and now there seemed no hope for the girl.
then bobino told the father of the small bottle he had seen the frogs play with, and that he knew that was the medicine which the doctor had sent to the girl.
the peasant asked him how he could be sure of this, and bobino explained to him that he understood the language of animals, and had heard what the frogs said as they tossed the bottle about.
so the peasant fetched the bottle from the ditch, and gave the medicine to his daughter.
in the morning she was much better, and the grateful father did not know how to thank bobino enough.
but bobino would accept nothing from him, and having said good-bye, set out once more on his wanderings.
one day, soon after this, he came upon two men resting under a tree in the heat of the day.
being tired he stretched himself on the ground at no great distance from them, and soon they all three began to talk to one another.
in the course of conversation, bobino asked the two men where they were going; and they replied that they were on their way to a neighbouring town, where, that day, a new ruler was to be chosen by the people.
while they were still talking, some sparrows settled on the tree under which they were lying.
bobino was silent, and appeared to be listening attentively.
at the end of a few minutes he said to his companions, "do you know what those sparrows are saying?
they are saying that to-day one of us will be chosen ruler of that town."
the men said nothing, but looked at each other.
a few minutes later, seeing that bobino had fallen asleep, they stole away, and made with all haste for the town, where the election of a new ruler was to take place.
a great crowd was assembled in the market-place, waiting for the hour when an eagle should be let loose from a cage, for it had been settled that on whose-soever house the eagle alighted, the owner of that house should become ruler of the town.
at last the hour arrived; the eagle was set free, and all eyes were strained to see where it would alight.
but circling over the heads of the crowd, it flew straight in the direction of a young man, who was at that moment entering the town.
this was none other than bobino, who had awakened soon after his companions had left him, and had followed in their footsteps.
all the people shouted and proclaimed that he was their future ruler, and he was conducted by a great crowd to the governor's house, which was for the future to be his home.
and here he lived happily, and ruled wisely over the people.
-lsb- illustration: the townspeople make bobino king -rsb- the dog and the sparrow there was once upon a time a sheep-dog whose master was so unkind that he starved the poor beast, and ill-treated him in the cruellest manner.
at last the dog determined to stand this ill-usage no longer, and, one day, he ran away from home.
as he was trotting along the road he met a sparrow, who stopped him and said: "brother, why do you look so sad?"
the dog answered: "i am sad because i am hungry, and have nothing to eat."
"if that's all, dear brother," said the sparrow, "come to the town with me, and i'll soon get food for you."
so they went together to the town, and when they came to a butcher's shop, the sparrow said to the dog: "you stand still and i'll peck down a piece of meat for you."
first she looked all round to see that no one was watching her, and then she set to work to peck at a piece of meat that lay on the edge of a shelf, till at last it fell down.
the dog seized it ravenously, and ran with it to a dark corner where he gobbled it up in a very few minutes.
when he had finished it, the sparrow said: "now come with me to another shop, and i will get you a second piece, so that your hunger may be satisfied."
when the dog had finished the second piece of meat, the sparrow asked him: "brother, have you had enough now?"
"yes," replied the dog, "i've had quite enough meat but i have n't had any bread yet."
the sparrow said: "you shall have as much bread as you like, only come with me."
then she led him to a baker's shop, and pecked so long at two rolls on a shelf that at last they fell down, and the dog ate them up.
but still his hunger was not appeased; so the sparrow took him to another baker's shop, and got some more rolls for him.
then she asked him: "well, brother, are you satisfied?"
"yes," he replied; "and now let us go for a little walk outside the town."
so the two went for a stroll into the country; but the day was very hot, and after they had gone a short distance the dog said: "i am very tired, and would like to go to sleep."
"sleep, then," said the sparrow, "and i will keep watch meantime on the branch of a tree."
so the dog lay down in the middle of the road, and was soon fast asleep.
while he was sleeping a carter passed by, driving a waggon drawn by three horses, and laden with two barrels of wine.
the sparrow noticed that the man was not going out of his way to avoid the dog, but was driving right in the middle of the road where the poor animal lay; so she called out: "carter, take care what you are about, or i shall make you suffer for it."
but the carter merely laughed at her words, and, cracking his whip, he drove his waggon right over the dog, so that the heavy wheels killed him.
then the sparrow called out: "you have caused my brother's death, and your cruelty will cost you your waggon and horses."
"waggon and horses, indeed," said the carter; "i'd like to know how you could rob me of them!"
the sparrow said nothing, but crept under the cover of the waggon and pecked so long at the bunghole of one of the barrels that at last she got the cork away, and all the wine ran out without the carter's noticing it.
but at last he turned round and saw that the bottom of the cart was wet, and when he examined it, he found that one of the barrels was quite empty, "oh!
what an unlucky fellow i am!"
he exclaimed.
"you'll have worse luck still," said the sparrow, as she perched on the head of one of the horses and pecked out its eyes.
when the carter saw what had happened, he seized an axe and tried to hit the sparrow with it, but the little bird flew up into the air, and the carter only hit the blind horse on the head, so that it fell down dead.
"oh!
what an unlucky fellow i am!"
he exclaimed again.
-lsb- illustration: the dog & the sparrow how the carter killed his horse. -rsb-
"you'll have worse luck yet," said the sparrow; and when the carter drove on with his two horses she crept under the covering again, and pecked away at the cork of the second barrel till she got it away, and all the wine poured out on to the road.
when the carter perceived this fresh disaster he called out once more: "oh!
what an unlucky fellow i am!"
but the sparrow answered: "your bad luck is not over yet," and flying on to the head of the second horse she pecked out its eyes.
the carter jumped out of the waggon and seized his axe, with which he meant to kill the sparrow; but the little bird flew high into the air, and the blow fell on the poor blind horse instead, and killed it on the spot.
then the carter exclaimed: "oh!
what an unlucky fellow i am!"
"you've not got to the end of your bad luck yet," sang the sparrow; and, perching on the head of the third horse, she pecked out its eyes.
the carter, blind with rage, let his axe fly at the bird; but once more she escaped the blow, which fell on the only remaining horse, and killed it.
and again the carter called out: "oh!
what an unlucky fellow i am!"
"you'll have worse luck yet," said the sparrow, "for now i mean to make your home desolate."
the carter had to leave his waggon on the road, and he went home in a towering passion.
as soon as he saw his wife, he called out: "oh!
what bad luck i have had!
all my wine is spilt, and my horses are all three dead."
"my dear husband," replied his wife, "your bad luck pursues you, for a wicked little sparrow has assembled all the other birds in the world, and they are in our barn eating everything up."
the carter went out to the barn where he kept his corn and found it was just as his wife had said.
thousands and thousands of birds were eating up the grain, and in the middle of them sat the little sparrow.
when he saw his old enemy, the carter cried out: "oh!
what an unlucky fellow i am!"
"not unlucky enough yet," answered the sparrow, "for, mark my words, carter, your cruel conduct will cost you your life;" and with these words she flew into the air.
the carter was much depressed by the loss of all his worldly goods, and sat down at the fire plotting vengeance on the sparrow, while the little bird sat on the window ledge and sang in mocking tones: "yes, carter, your cruel conduct will cost you your life."
then the carter seized his axe and threw it at the sparrow, but he only broke the window panes, and did not do the bird a bit of harm.
she hopped in through the broken window and, perching on the mantelpiece, she called out: "yes, carter, it will cost you your life."
the carter, quite beside himself with rage, flew at the sparrow again with his axe, but the little creature always eluded his blows, and he only succeeded in destroying all his furniture.
at last, however, he managed to catch the bird in his hands.
then his wife called out: "shall i wring her neck?"
"certainly not," replied her husband, "that would be far too easy a death for her; she must die in a far crueller fashion than that.
i will eat her alive;" and he suited the action to his words.
but the sparrow fluttered and struggled inside him till she got up into the man's mouth, and then she popped out her head and said: "yes, carter, it will cost you your life."
the carter handed his wife the axe, and said: "wife, kill the bird in my mouth dead."
the woman struck with all her might, but she missed the bird and hit the carter right on the top of his head, so that he fell down dead.
but the sparrow escaped out of his mouth and flew away into the air.
-lsb- from the german, kletke. -rsb-
the story of the three sons of hali till his eighteenth birthday the young neangir lived happily in a village about forty miles from constantinople, believing that mohammed and zinebi his wife, who had brought him up, were his real parents.
neangir was quite content with his lot, though he was neither rich nor great, and unlike most young men of his age had no desire to leave his home.
he was therefore completely taken by surprise when one day mohammed told him with many sighs that the time had now come for him to go to constantinople, and fix on a profession for himself.
the choice would be left to him, but he would probably prefer either to be a soldier or one of the doctors learned in the law, who explain the koran to the ignorant people.
"you know the holy book nearly by heart," ended the old man, "so that in a very short time you would be fitted to teach others.
but write to us and tell us how you pass your life, and we, on our side, will promise never to forget you."
so saying, mohammed gave neangir four piastres to start him in the great city, and obtained leave for him to join a caravan which was about to set off for constantinople.
the journey took some days, as caravans go very slowly, but at last the walls and towers of the capital appeared in the distance.
when the caravan halted the travellers went their different ways, and neangir was left, feeling very strange and rather lonely.
he had plenty of courage and made friends very easily; still, not only was it the first time he had left the village where he had been brought up, but no one had ever spoken to him of constantinople, and he did not so much as know the name of a single street or of a creature who lived in it.
wondering what he was to do next, neangir stood still for a moment to look about him, when suddenly a pleasant-looking man came up, and bowing politely, asked if the youth would do him the honour of staying in his house till he had made some plans for himself.
neangir, not seeing anything else he could do, accepted the stranger's offer and followed him home.
they entered a large room, where a girl of about twelve years old was laying three places at the table.
"zelida," said the stranger, "was i not quite right when i told you that i should bring back a friend to sup with us?"
"my father," replied the girl, "you are always right in what you say, and what is better still, you never mislead others."
as she spoke, an old slave placed on the table a dish called pillau, made of rice and meat, which is a great favourite among people in the east, and setting down glasses of sherbet before each person, left the room quietly.
during the meal the host talked a great deal upon all sorts of subjects; but neangir did nothing but look at zelida, as far as he could without being positively rude.
the girl blushed and grew uncomfortable, and at last turned to her father.
"the stranger's eyes never wander from me," she said in a low and hesitating voice.
"if hassan should hear of it, jealousy will make him mad."
"no, no," replied the father, "you are certainly not for this young man.
did i not tell you before that i intend him for your sister argentine.
i will at once take measures to fix his heart upon her," and he rose and opened a cupboard, from which he took some fruits and a jug of wine, which he put on the table, together with a small silver and mother-of-pearl box.
"taste this wine," he said to the young man, pouring some into a glass.
"give me a little, too," cried zelida.
"certainly not," answered her father, "you and hassan both had as much as was good for you the other day."
"then drink some yourself," replied she, "or this young man will think we mean to poison him."
"well, if you wish, i will do so," said the father; "this elixir is not dangerous at my age, as it is at yours."
when neangir had emptied his glass, his host opened the mother-of-pearl box and held it out to him.
neangir was beside himself with delight at the picture of a young maiden more beautiful than anything he had ever dreamed of.
he stood speechless before it, while his breast swelled with a feeling quite new to him.
his two companions watched him with amusement, until at last neangir roused himself.
"explain to me, i pray you," he said, "the meaning of these mysteries.
why did you ask me here?
why did you force me to drink this dangerous liquid which has set fire to my blood?
why have you shown me this picture which has almost deprived me of reason?'"
i will answer some of your questions," replied his host," but all, i may not.
the picture that you hold in your hand is that of zelida's sister.
it has filled your heart with love for her; therefore, go and seek her.
when you find her, you will find yourself."
"but where shall i find her?"
cried neangir, kissing the charming miniature on which his eyes were fixed."
i am unable to tell you more," replied his host cautiously.
"but i can," interrupted zelida eagerly.
"to-morrow you must go to the jewish bazaar, and buy a watch from the second shop on the right hand.
and at midnight --" but what was to happen at midnight, neangir did not hear, for zelida's father hastily laid his hand over her mouth, crying: "oh, be silent, child!
would you draw down on you by imprudence the fate of your unhappy sisters?"
hardly had he uttered the words, when a thick black vapour rose about him, proceeding from the precious bottle, which his rapid movement had overturned.
the old slave rushed in and shrieked loudly, while neangir, upset by this strange adventure, left the house.
-lsb- illustration: neangir sees the picture of argentine -rsb- he passed the rest of the night on the steps of a mosque, and with the first streaks of dawn he took his picture out of the folds of his turban.
then, remembering zelida's words, he inquired the way to the bazaar, and went straight to the shop she had described.
in answer to neangir's request to be shown some watches, the merchant produced several and pointed out the one which he considered the best.
the price was three gold pieces, which neangir readily agreed to give him; but the man made a difficulty about handing over the watch unless he knew where his customer lived.
"that is more than i know myself," replied neangir."
i only arrived in the town yesterday and can not find the way to the house where i went first."
"well," said the merchant, "come with me, and i will take you to a good mussulman, where you will have everything you desire at a small charge."
neangir consented, and the two walked together through several streets till they reached the house recommended by the jewish merchant.
by his advice the young man paid in advance the last gold piece that remained to him for his food and lodging.
as soon as neangir had dined he shut himself up in his room, and thrusting his hand into the folds of his turban, drew out his beloved portrait.
as he did so, he touched a sealed letter which had apparently been hidden there without his knowledge, and seeing it was written by his foster-mother, zinebi, he tore it eagerly open.
judge of his surprise when he read these words: "my dearest child, -- this letter, which you will some day find in your turban, is to inform you that you are not really our son.
we believe your father to have been a great lord in some distant land, and inside this packet is a letter from him, threatening to be avenged on us if you are not restored to him at once.
we shall always love you, but do not seek us or even write to us.
it will be useless."
in the same wrapper was a roll of paper with a few words as follows, traced in a hand unknown to neangir: "traitors, you are no doubt in league with those magicians who have stolen the two daughters of the unfortunate siroco, and have taken from them the talisman given them by their father.
you have kept my son from me, but i have found out your hiding-place and swear by the holy prophet to punish your crime.
the stroke of my scimitar is swifter than the lightning."
the unhappy neangir on reading these two letters -- of which he understood absolutely nothing -- felt sadder and more lonely than ever.
it soon dawned on him that he must be the son of the man who had written to mohammed and his wife, but he did not know where to look for him, and indeed thought much more about the people who had brought him up and whom he was never to see again.
to shake off these gloomy feelings, so as to be able to make some plans for the future, neangir left the house and walked briskly about the city till darkness had fallen.
he then retraced his steps and was just crossing the threshold when he saw something at his feet sparkling in the moonlight.
he picked it up, and discovered it to be a gold watch shining with precious stones.
he gazed up and down the street to see if there was anyone about to whom it might belong, but there was not a creature visible.
so he put it in his sash, by the side of a silver watch which he had bought from the jew that morning.
the possession of this piece of good fortune cheered neangir up a little, "for," thought he," i can sell these jewels for at least a thousand sequins, and that will certainly last me till i have found my father."
and consoled by this reflection he laid both watches beside him and prepared to sleep.
in the middle of the night he awoke suddenly and heard a soft voice speaking, which seemed to come from one of the watches.
"aurora, my sister," it whispered gently.
"did they remember to wind you up at midnight?"
"no, dear argentine," was the reply.
"and you?"
"they forgot me, too," answered the first voice, "and it is now one o'clock, so that we shall not be able to leave our prison till to-morrow -- if we are not forgotten again -- then."
"we have nothing now to do here," said aurora.
"we must resign ourselves to our fate -- let us go."
filled with astonishment neangir sat up in bed, and beheld by the light of the moon the two watches slide to the ground and roll out of the room past the cats" quarters.
he rushed towards the door and on to the staircase, but the watches slipped downstairs without his seeing them, and into the street.
he tried to unlock the door and follow them, but the key refused to turn, so he gave up the chase and went back to bed.
the next day all his sorrows returned with tenfold force.
he felt himself lonelier and poorer than ever, and in a fit of despair he thrust his turban on his head, stuck his sword in his belt, and left the house determined to seek an explanation from the merchant who had sold him the silver watch.
when neangir reached the bazaar he found the man he sought was absent from his shop, and his place filled by another jew.
"it is my brother you want," said he; "we keep the shop in turn, and in turn go into the city to do our business."
"ah!
what business?"
cried neangir in a fury.
"you are the brother of a scoundrel who sold me yesterday a watch that ran away in the night.
but i will find it somehow, or else you shall pay for it, as you are his brother!"
"what is that you say?"
asked the jew, around whom a crowd had rapidly gathered."
a watch that ran away.
if it had been a cask of wine, your story might be true, but a watch --!
that is hardly possible!"
"the cadi shall say whether it is possible or not," replied neangir, who at that moment perceived the other jew enter the bazaar.
darting up, he seized him by the arm and dragged him to the cadi's house; but not before the man whom he had found in the shop contrived to whisper to his brother, in a tone loud enough for neangir to hear, "confess nothing, or we shall both be lost."
when the cadi was informed of what had taken place he ordered the crowd to be dispersed by blows, after the turkish manner, and then asked neangir to state his complaint.
after hearing the young man's story, which seemed to him most extraordinary, he turned to question the jewish merchant, who instead of answering raised his eyes to heaven and fell down in a dead faint.
the judge took no notice of the swooning man, but told neangir that his tale was so singular he really could not believe it, and that he should have the merchant carried back to his own house.
this so enraged neangir that he forgot the respect due to the cadi, and exclaimed at the top of his voice, "recover this fellow from his fainting fit, and force him to confess the truth," giving the jew as he spoke a blow with his sword which caused him to utter a piercing scream.
"you see for yourself," said the jew to the cadi, "that this young man is out of his mind.
i forgive him his blow, but do not, i pray you, leave me in his power."
at that moment the bassa chanced to pass the cadi's house, and hearing a great noise, entered to inquire the cause.
when the matter was explained, he looked attentively at neangir, and asked him gently how all these marvels could possibly have happened.
"my lord," replied neangir," i swear i have spoken the truth, and perhaps you will believe me when i tell you that i myself have been the victim of spells wrought by people of this kind, who should be rooted out from the earth.
for three years i was changed into a three-legged pot, and only returned to man's shape when one day a turban was laid upon my lid."
at these words the bassa rent his robe for joy, and embracing neangir, he cried, "oh, my son, my son, have i found you at last?
do you not come from the house of mohammed and zinebi?"
"yes, my lord," replied neangir, "it was they who took care of me during my misfortune, and taught me by their example to be less worthy of belonging to you."
"blessed be the prophet," said the bassa, "who has restored one of my sons to me, at the time i least expected it!
you know," he continued, addressing the cadi, "that during the first years of my marriage i had three sons by the beautiful zambac.
when he was three years old a holy dervish gave the eldest a string of the finest coral, saying "keep this treasure carefully, and be faithful to the prophet, and you will be happy."
to the second, who now stands before you, he presented a copper plate on which the name of mahomet was engraved in seven languages, telling him never to part from his turban, which was the sign of a true believer, and he would taste the greatest of all joys; while on the right arm of the third the dervish clasped a bracelet with the prayer that his right hand should be pure and the left spotless, so that he might never know sorrow.
"my eldest son neglected the counsel of the dervish and terrible troubles fell on him, as also on the youngest.
to preserve the second from similar misfortunes i brought him up in a lonely place, under the care of a faithful servant named gouloucou, while i was fighting the enemies of our holy faith.
on my return from the wars i hastened to embrace my son, but both he and gouloucou had vanished, and it is only a few months since that i learned that the boy was living with a man called mohammed, whom i suspected of having stolen him.
tell me, my son, how it came about that you fell into his hands."
"my lord," replied neangir," i can remember little of the early years of my life, save that i dwelt in a castle by the seashore with an old servant.
i must have been about twelve years old when one day as we were out walking we met a man whose face was like that of this jew, coming dancing towards us.
suddenly i felt myself growing faint.
i tried to raise my hands to my head, but they had become stiff and hard.
in a word, i had been changed into a copper pot, and my arms formed the handle.
what happened to my companion i know not, but i was conscious that some one had picked me up, and was carrying me quickly away.
"after some days, or so it seemed to me, i was placed on the ground near a thick hedge, and when i heard my captor snoring beside me i resolved to make my escape.
so i pushed my way among the thorns as well as i could, and walked on steadily for about an hour.
"you can not imagine, my lord, how awkward it is to walk with three legs, especially when your knees are as stiff as mine were.
at length after much difficulty i reached a market-garden, and hid myself deep down among the cabbages, where i passed a quiet night.
"the next morning, at sunrise, i felt some one stooping over me and examining me closely.
""what have you got there, zinebi?"
said the voice of a man a little way off."
""the most beautiful pot in the whole world," answered the woman beside me, "and who would have dreamed of finding it among my cabbages!"
"mohammed lifted me from the ground and looked at me with admiration.
that pleased me, for every one likes to be admired, even if he is only a pot!
and i was taken into the house and filled with water, and put on the fire to boil.
"for three years i led a quiet and useful life, being scrubbed bright every day by zinebi, then a young and beautiful woman.
"one morning zinebi set me on the fire, with a fine fillet of beef inside me to cook, for dinner.
being afraid that some of the steam would escape through the lid, and that the taste of her stew would be spoilt, she looked about for something to put over the cover, but could see nothing handy but her husband's turban.
she tied it firmly round the lid, and then left the room.
for the first time during three years i began to feel the fire burning the soles of my feet, and moved away a little -- doing this with a great deal more ease than i had felt when making my escape to mohammed's garden.
i was somehow aware, too, that i was growing taller; in fact in a few minutes i was a man again.
-lsb- illustration: zinebi puts the turban on the pot -rsb- "after the third hour of prayer mohammed and zinebi both returned, and you can guess their surprise at finding a young man in the kitchen instead of a copper pot!
i told them my story, which at first they refused to believe, but in the end i succeeded in persuading them that i was speaking the truth.
for two years more i lived with them, and was treated like their own son, till the day when they sent me to this city to seek my fortune.
and now, my lords, here are the two letters which i found in my turban.
perhaps they may be another proof in favour of my story."
whilst neangir was speaking, the blood from the jew's wound had gradually ceased to flow; and at this moment there appeared in the doorway a lovely jewess, about twenty-two years old, her hair and her dress all disordered, as if she had been flying from some great danger.
in one hand she held two crutches of white wood, and was followed by two men.
the first man neangir knew to be the brother of the jew he had struck with his sword, while in the second the young man thought he recognised the person who was standing by when he was changed into a pot.
both of these men had a wide linen band round their thighs and held stout sticks.
-lsb- illustration: there appeared in the doorway a lovely jewess -rsb- the jewess approached the wounded man and laid the two crutches near him; then, fixing her eyes on him, she burst into tears.
"unhappy izouf," she murmured, "why do you suffer yourself to be led into such dangerous adventures?
look at the consequences, not only to yourself, but to your two brothers," turning as she spoke to the men who had come in with her, and who had sunk down on the mat at the feet of the jew.
the bassa and his companions were struck both with the beauty of the jewess and also with her words, and begged her to give them an explanation.
"my lords," she said, "my name is sumi, and i am the daughter of moïzes, one of our most famous rabbis.
i am the victim of my love for izaf," pointing to the man who had entered last, "and in spite of his ingratitude, i can not tear him from my heart.
cruel enemy of my life," she continued, turning to izaf, "tell these gentlemen your story and that of your brothers, and try to gain your pardon by repentance."
"we all three were born at the same time," said the jew, obeying the command of sumi at a sign from the cadi, "and are the sons of the famous nathan ben-sadi, who gave us the names of izif, izouf, and izaf.
from our earliest years we were taught the secrets of magic, and as we were all born under the same stars we shared the same happiness and the same troubles.
"our mother died before i can remember, and when we were fifteen our father was seized with a dangerous illness which no spells could cure.
feeling death draw near, he called us to his bedside and took leave of us in these words: """my sons, i have no riches to bequeath to you; my only wealth was those secrets of magic which you know.
some stones you already have, engraved with mystic signs, and long ago i taught you how to make others.
but you still lack the most precious of all talismans -- the three rings belonging to the daughters of siroco.
try to get possession of them, but take heed on beholding these young girls that you do not fall under the power of their beauty.
their religion is different from yours, and further, they are the betrothed brides of the sons of the bassa of the sea.
and to preserve you from a love which can bring you nothing but sorrow, i counsel you in time of peril to seek out the daughter of moïzes the rabbi, who cherishes a hidden passion for izaf, and possesses the book of spells, which her father himself wrote with the sacred ink that was used for the talmud."
so saying, our father fell back on his cushions and died, leaving us burning with desire for the three rings of the daughters of siroco.
"no sooner were our sad duties finished than we began to make inquiries where these young ladies were to be found, and we learned after much trouble that siroco, their father, had fought in many wars, and that his daughters, whose beauty was famous throughout all the land, were named aurora, argentine, and zelida."
at the second of these names, both the bassa and his son gave a start of surprise, but they said nothing, and izaf went on with his story.
"the first thing to be done was to put on a disguise, and it was in the dress of foreign merchants that we at length approached the young ladies, taking care to carry with us a collection of fine stones which we had hired for the occasion.
but alas!
it was to no purpose that nathan ben-sadi had warned us to close our hearts against their charms!
the peerless aurora was clothed in a garment of golden hue, studded all over with flashing jewels; the fair-haired argentine wore a dress of silver, and the young zelida, loveliest of them all, the costume of a persian lady.
"among other curiosities that we had brought with us, was a flask containing an elixir which had the quality of exciting love in the breasts of any man or woman who drank of it.
this had been given me by the fair sumi, who had used it herself and was full of wrath because i refused to drink it likewise, and so return her passion.
i showed this liquid to the three maidens who were engaged in examining the precious stones, and choosing those that pleased them best; and i was in the act of pouring some in a crystal cup, when zelida's eyes fell on a paper wrapped round the flask containing these words: "beware lest you drink this water with any other man than him who will one day be your husband."
""ah, traitor!"
she exclaimed, "what snare have you laid for me?"
and glancing where her finger pointed i recognised the writing of sumi.
-lsb- illustration: zelida discovers the writing on the flask -rsb- "by this time my two brothers had already got possession of the rings of aurora and argentine in exchange for some merchandise which they coveted, and no sooner had the magic circles left their hands than the two sisters vanished completely, and in their place nothing was to be seen but a watch of gold and one of silver.
at this instant the old slave whom we had bribed to let us enter the house, rushed into the room announcing the return of zelida's father.
my brothers, trembling with fright, hid the watches in their turbans, and while the slave was attending to zelida, who had sunk fainting to the ground, we managed to make our escape.
"fearing to be traced by the enraged siroco, we did not dare to go back to the house where we lodged, but took refuge with sumi."
""unhappy wretches!"
cried she, "is it thus that you have followed the counsels of your father?
this very morning i consulted my magic books, and saw you in the act of abandoning your hearts to the fatal passion which will one day be your ruin.
no, do not think i will tamely bear this insult!
it was i who wrote the letter which stopped zelida in the act of drinking the elixir of love!
as for you," she went on, turning to my brothers, "you do not yet know what those two watches will cost you!
but you can learn it now, and the knowledge of the truth will only serve to render your lives still more miserable."
"as she spoke she held out the sacred book written by moïzes, and pointed to the following lines: """if at midnight the watches are wound with the key of gold and the key of silver, they will resume their proper shapes during the first hour of the day.
they will always remain under the care of a woman, and will come back to her wherever they may be.
and the woman appointed to guard them is the daughter of moïzes."
"my brothers were full of rage when they saw themselves outwitted, but there was no help for it.
the watches were delivered up to sumi and they went their way, while i remained behind curious to see what would happen.
"as night wore on sumi wound up both watches, and when midnight struck aurora and her sister made their appearance.
they knew nothing of what had occurred and supposed they had just awakened from sleep, but when sumi's story made them understand their terrible fate, they both sobbed with despair and were only consoled when sumi promised never to forsake them.
then one o'clock sounded, and they became watches again.
"all night long i was a prey to vague fears, and i felt as if something unseen was pushing me on -- in what direction i did not know.
at dawn i rose and went out, meeting izif in the street suffering from the same dread as myself.
we agreed that constantinople was no place for us any longer, and calling to izouf to accompany us, we left the city together, but soon determined to travel separately, so that we might not be so easily recognised by the spies of siroco."
a few days later i found myself at the door of an old castle near the sea, before which a tall slave was pacing to and fro.
the gift of one or two worthless jewels loosened his tongue, and he informed me that he was in the service of the son of the bassa of the sea, at that time making war in distant countries.
the youth, he told me, had been destined from his boyhood to marry the daughter of siroco, whose sisters were to be the brides of his brothers, and went on to speak of the talisman that his charge possessed.
but i could think of nothing but the beautiful zelida, and my passion, which i thought i had conquered, awoke in full force.
"in order to remove this dangerous rival from my path, i resolved to kidnap him, and to this end i began to act a madman, and to sing and dance loudly, crying to the slave to fetch the boy and let him see my tricks.
he consented, and both were so diverted with my antics that they laughed till the tears ran down their cheeks, and even tried to imitate me.
then i declared i felt thirsty and begged the slave to fetch me some water, and while he was absent i advised the youth to take off his turban, so as to cool his head.
he complied gladly, and in the twinkling of an eye was changed into a pot.
a cry from the slave warned me that i had no time to lose if i would save my life, so i snatched up the pot and fled with it like the wind.
"you have heard, my lords, what became of the pot, so i will only say now that when i awoke it had disappeared; but i was partly consoled for its loss by finding my two brothers fast asleep not far from me.
""how did you get here?"
i inquired, "and what has happened to you since we parted?""
""alas!"
replied izouf, "we were passing a wayside inn from which came sounds of songs and laughter, and fools that we were -- we entered and sat down.
circassian girls of great beauty were dancing for the amusement of several men, who not only received us politely, but placed us near the two loveliest maidens.
our happiness was complete, and time flew unknown to us, when one of the circassians leaned forward and said to her sister, "their brother danced, and they must dance too."
what they meant by these words i know not, but perhaps you can tell us?""
""i understand quite well," i replied.
""they were thinking of the day that i stole the son of the bassa, and had danced before him.""
""perhaps you are right," continued izouf, "for the two ladies took our hands and danced with us till we were quite exhausted, and when at last we sat down a second time to table we drank more wine than was good for us.
indeed, our heads grew so confused, that when the men jumped up and threatened to kill us, we could make no resistance and suffered ourselves to be robbed of everything we had about us, including the most precious possession of all, the two talismans of the daughters of siroco."
"not knowing what else to do, we all three returned to constantinople to ask the advice of sumi, and found that she was already aware of our misfortunes, having read about them in the book of moïzes.
the kind-hearted creature wept bitterly at our story, but, being poor herself, could give us little help.
at last i proposed that every morning we should sell the silver watch into which argentine was changed, as it would return to sumi every evening unless it was wound up with the silver key -- which was not at all likely.
sumi consented, but only on the condition that we would never sell the watch without ascertaining the house where it was to be found, so that she might also take aurora thither, and thus argentine would not be alone if by any chance she was wound up at the mystic hour.
for some weeks now we have lived by this means, and the two daughters of siroco have never failed to return to sumi each night.
yesterday izouf sold the silver watch to this young man, and in the evening placed the gold watch on the steps by order of sumi, just before his customer entered the house; from which both watches came back early this morning."
"if i had only known!"
cried neangir.
"if i had had more presence of mind, i should have seen the lovely argentine, and if her portrait is so fair, what must the original be!"
"it was not your fault," replied the cadi, "you are no magician; and who could guess that the watch must be wound at such an hour?
but i shall give orders that the merchant is to hand it over to you, and this evening you will certainly not forget."
"it is impossible to let you have it to-day," answered izouf, "for it is already sold."
"if that is so," said the cadi, "you must return the three gold pieces which the young man paid."
the jew, delighted to get off so easily, put his hand in his pocket, when neangir stopped him.
"no, no," he exclaimed, "it is not money i want, but the adorable argentine; without her everything is valueless."
"my dear cadi," said the bassa, "he is right.
the treasure that my son has lost is absolutely priceless."
"my lord," replied the cadi, "your wisdom is greater than mine.
give judgment i pray you in the matter."
so the bassa desired them all to accompany him to his house, and commanded his slaves not to lose sight of the three jewish brothers.
when they arrived at the door of his dwelling, he noticed two women sitting on a bench close by, thickly veiled and beautifully dressed.
their wide satin trousers were embroidered in silver, and their muslin robes were of the finest texture.
in the hand of one was a bag of pink silk tied with green ribbons, containing something that seemed to move.
at the approach of the bassa both ladies rose, and came towards him.
then the one who held the bag addressed him saying, "noble lord, buy, i pray you, this bag, without asking to see what it contains."
"how much do you want for it?"
asked the bassa.
"three hundred sequins," replied the unknown.
at these words the bassa laughed contemptuously, and passed on without speaking.
-lsb- illustration: the bassa laughs at the circassians -rsb- "you will not repent of your bargain," went on the woman.
"perhaps if we come back to-morrow you will be glad to give us the four hundred sequins we shall then ask.
and the next day the price will be five hundred."
"come away," said her companion, taking hold of her sleeve.
"do not let us stay here any longer.
it may cry, and then our secret will be discovered."
and so saying, the two young women disappeared.
the jews were left in the front hall under the care of the slaves, and neangir and sumi followed the bassa inside the house, which was magnificently furnished.
at one end of a large, brilliantly-lighted room a lady of about thirty-five years old reclined on a couch, still beautiful in spite of the sad expression of her face.
"incomparable zambac," said the bassa, going up to her, "give me your thanks, for here is the lost son for whom you have shed so many tears," but before his mother could clasp him in her arms neangir had flung himself at her feet.
"let the whole house rejoice with me," continued the bassa, "and let my two sons ibrahim and hassan be told, that they may embrace their brother."
"alas!
my lord!"
said zambac, "do you forget that this is the hour when hassan weeps on his hand, and ibrahim gathers up his coral beads?"
"let the command of the prophet be obeyed," replied the bassa; "then we will wait till the evening."
"forgive me, noble lord," interrupted sumi, "but what is this mystery?
with the help of the book of spells perhaps i may be of some use in the matter."
"sumi," answered the bassa," i owe you already the happiness of my life; come with me then, and the sight of my unhappy sons will tell you of our trouble better than any words of mine."
the bassa rose from his divan and drew aside the hangings leading to a large hall, closely followed by neangir and sumi.
there they saw two young men, one about seventeen, and the other nineteen years of age.
the younger was seated before a table, his forehead resting on his right hand, which he was watering with his tears.
he raised his head for a moment when his father entered, and neangir and sumi both saw that this hand was of ebony.
the other young man was occupied busily in collecting coral beads which were scattered all over the floor of the room, and as he picked them up he placed them on the same table where his brother was sitting.
he had already gathered together ninety-eight beads, and thought they were all there, when they suddenly rolled off the table and he had to begin his work over again.
"do you see," whispered the bassa, "for three hours daily one collects these coral beads, and for the same space of time the other laments over his hand which has become black, and i am wholly ignorant what is the cause of either misfortune."
"do not let us stay here," said sumi, "our presence must add to their grief.
but permit me to fetch the book of spells, which i feel sure will tell us not only the cause of their malady but also its cure."
the bassa readily agreed to sumi's proposal, but neangir objected strongly.
"if sumi leaves us," he said to his father," i shall not see my beloved argentine when she returns to-night with the fair aurora.
and life is an eternity till i behold her."
"be comforted," replied sumi."
i will be back before sunset; and i leave you my adored izaf as a pledge."
scarcely had the jewess left neangir, when the old female slave entered the hall where the three jews still remained carefully guarded, followed by a man whose splendid dress prevented neangir from recognising at first as the person in whose house he had dined two days before.
but the woman he knew at once to be the nurse of zelida.
he started eagerly forward, but before he had time to speak the slave turned to the soldier she was conducting.
"my lord," she said, "those are the men; i have tracked them from the house of the cadi to this palace.
they are the same; i am not mistaken, strike and avenge yourself."
as he listened the face of the stranger grew scarlet with anger.
he drew his sword and in another moment would have rushed on the jews, when neangir and the slaves of the bassa seized hold of him.
"what are you doing?"
cried neangir.
"how dare you attack those whom the bassa has taken under his protection?"
"ah, my son," replied the soldier, "the bassa would withdraw his protection if he knew that these wretches have robbed me of all i have dearest in the world.
he knows them as little as he knows you."
"but he knows me very well," replied neangir, "for he has recognised me as his son.
come with me now, into his presence."
the stranger bowed and passed through the curtain held back by neangir, whose surprise was great at seeing his father spring forward and clasp the soldier in his arms.
"what!
is it you, my dear siroco?"
cried he."
i believed you had been slain in that awful battle when the followers of the prophet were put to flight.
but why do your eyes kindle with the flames they shot forth on that fearful day?
calm yourself and tell me what i can do to help you.
see, i have found my son, let that be a good omen for your happiness also.'"
i did not guess," answered siroco, "that the son you have so long mourned had come back to you.
some days since the prophet appeared to me in a dream, floating in a circle of light, and he said to me, "go to-morrow at sunset to the galata gate, and there you will find a young man whom you must bring home with you.
he is the second son of your old friend the bassa of the sea, and that you may make no mistake, put your fingers in his turban and you will feel the plate on which my name is engraved in seven different languages.""
i did as i was bid," went on siroco, "and so charmed was i with his face and manner that i caused him to fall in love with argentine, whose portrait i gave him.
but at the moment when i was rejoicing in the happiness before me, and looking forward to the pleasure of restoring you your son, some drops of the elixir of love were spilt on the table, and caused a thick vapour to arise, which hid everything.
when it had cleared away he was gone.
this morning my old slave informed me that she had discovered the traitors who had stolen my daughters from me, and i hastened hither to avenge them.
but i place myself in your hands, and will follow your counsel."
"fate will favour us, i am sure," said the bassa, "for this very night i expect to secure both the silver and the gold watch.
so send at once and pray zelida to join us."
a rustling of silken stuffs drew their eyes to the door, and ibrahim and hassan, whose daily penance had by this time been performed, entered to embrace their brother.
neangir and hassan, who had also drunk of the elixir of love, could think of nothing but the beautiful ladies who had captured their hearts, while the spirits of ibrahim had been cheered by the news that the daughter of moïzes hoped to find in the book of spells some charm to deliver him from collecting the magic beads.
it was some hours later that sumi returned, bringing with her the sacred book.
"see," she said, beckoning to hassan, "your destiny is written here."
and hassan stooped and read these words in hebrew: "his right hand has become black as ebony from touching the fat of an impure animal, and will remain so till the last of its race is drowned in the sea."
-lsb- illustration: sumi · shows · hassan · the · book · of · magic -rsb- "alas!"
sighed the unfortunate youth.
"it now comes back to my memory.
one day the slave of zambac was making a cake.
she warned me not to touch, as the cake was mixed with lard, but i did not heed her, and in an instant my hand became the ebony that it now is."
"holy dervish!"
exclaimed the bassa, "how true were your words!
my son has neglected the advice you gave him on presenting him the bracelet, and he has been severely punished.
but tell me, o wise sumi, where i can find the last of the accursed race who has brought this doom on my son?"
"it is written here," replied sumi, turning over some leaves.
"the little black pig is in the pink bag carried by the two circassians."
when he read this the bassa sank on his cushions in despair.
"ah," he said, "that is the bag that was offered me this morning for three hundred sequins.
those must be the women who caused izif and izouf to dance, and took from them the two talismans of the daughters of siroco.
they only can break the spell that has been cast on us.
let them be found and i will gladly give them the half of my possessions.
idiot that i was to send them away!"
while the bassa was bewailing his folly, ibrahim in his turn had opened the book, and blushed deeply as he read the words: "the chaplet of beads has been defiled by the game of "odd and even."
its owner has tried to cheat by concealing one of the numbers.
let the faithless moslem seek for ever the missing bead.'"
o heaven," cried ibrahim, "that unhappy day rises up before me.
i had cut the thread of the chaplet, while playing with aurora.
holding the ninety-nine beads in my hand she guessed "odd," and in order that she might lose i let one bead fall from my hand.
since then i have sought it daily, but it never has been found."
"holy dervish!"
cried the bassa, "how true were your words!
from the time that the sacred chaplet was no longer complete, my son has borne the penalty.
but may not the book of spells teach us how to deliver ibrahim also?"
"listen," said sumi, "this is what i find: "the coral bead lies in the fifth fold of the dress of yellow brocade.""
"ah, what good fortune!"
exclaimed the bassa, "we shall shortly see the beautiful aurora, and ibrahim shall at once search in the fifth fold of her yellow brocade.
for it is she no doubt of whom the book speaks."
as the jewess closed the book of moïzes, zelida appeared, accompanied by a whole train of slaves and her old nurse.
at her entrance hassan, beside himself with joy, flung himself on his knees and kissed her hand.
"my lord," he said to the bassa, "pardon me these transports.
no elixir of love was needed to inflame my heart!
let the marriage rite make us speedily one."
"my son, are you mad?"
asked the bassa.
"as long as the misfortunes of your brothers last, shall you alone be happy.
and whoever heard of a bridegroom with a black hand?
wait yet a little longer, till the black pig is drowned in the sea."
"yes!
dear hassan," said zelida, "our happiness will be increased tenfold when my sisters have regained their proper shapes.
and here is the elixir which i have brought with me, so that their joy may equal ours."
and she held out the flask to the bassa, who had it closed in his presence.
zambac was filled with joy at the sight of zelida, and embraced her with delight.
then she led the way into the garden, and invited all her friends to seat themselves under the thick overhanging branches of a splendid jessamine tree.
no sooner, however, were they comfortably settled, than they were astonished to hear a man's voice, speaking angrily on the other side of the wall.
"ungrateful girls!"
it said, "is this the way you treat me?
let me hide myself for ever!
this cave is no longer dark enough or deep enough for me."
a burst of laughter was the only answer, and the voice continued, "what have i done to earn such contempt?
was this what you promised me when i managed to get for you the talismans of beauty?
is this the reward i have a right to expect when i have bestowed on you the little black pig, who is certain to bring you good luck?"
at these words the curiosity of the listeners passed all bounds, and the bassa commanded his slaves instantly to tear down the wall.
it was done, but the man was nowhere to be seen, and there were only two girls of extraordinary beauty, who seemed quite at their ease, and came dancing gaily on to the terrace.
with them was an old slave in whom the bassa recognised gouloucou, the former guardian of neangir.
-lsb- illustration: the circassians dance into the bassa's garden -rsb- gouloucou shrank with fear when he saw the bassa, as he expected nothing less than death at his hands for allowing neangir to be snatched away.
but the bassa made him signs of forgiveness, and asked him how he had escaped death when he had thrown himself from the cliff.
gouloucou explained that he had been picked up by a dervish who had cured his wounds, and had then given him as slave to the two young ladies now before the company, and in their service he had remained ever since.
"but," said the bassa, "where is the little black pig of which the voice spoke just now?"
"my lord," answered one of the ladies, "when at your command the wall was thrown down, the man whom you heard speaking was so frightened at the noise that he caught up the pig and ran away."
"let him be pursued instantly," cried the bassa; but the ladies smiled.
"do not be alarmed, my lord," said one, "he is sure to return.
only give orders that the entrance to the cave shall be guarded, so that when he is once in he shall not get out again."
by this time night was falling and they all went back to the palace, where coffee and fruits were served in a splendid gallery, near the women's apartments.
the bassa then ordered the three jews to be brought before him, so that he might see whether these were the two damsels who had forced them to dance at the inn, but to his great vexation it was found that when their guards had gone to knock down the wall the jews had escaped.
at this news the jewess sumi turned pale, but glancing at the book of spells her face brightened, and she said half aloud, "there is no cause for disquiet; they will capture the dervish," while hassan lamented loudly that as soon as fortune appeared on one side she fled on the other!
on hearing this reflection one of the bassa's pages broke into a laugh.
"this fortune comes to us dancing, my lord," said he, "and the other leaves us on crutches.
do not be afraid.
she will not go very far."
the bassa, shocked at his impertinent interference, desired him to leave the room and not to come back till he was sent for.
"my lord shall be obeyed," said the page, "but when i return, it shall be in such good company that you will welcome me gladly."
so saying, he went out.
when they were alone, neangir turned to the fair strangers and implored their help.
"my brothers and myself," he cried, "are filled with love for three peerless maidens, two of whom are under a cruel spell.
if their fate happened to be in your hands, would you not do all in your power to restore them to happiness and liberty?"
but the young man's appeal only stirred the two ladies to anger.
"what," exclaimed one, "are the sorrows of lovers to us?
fate has deprived us of our lovers, and if it depends on us the whole world shall suffer as much as we do!"
this unexpected reply was heard with amazement by all present, and the bassa entreated the speaker to tell them her story.
having obtained permission of her sister, she began: the story of the fair circassians "we were born in circassia of poor people, and my sister's name is tezila and mine dely.
having nothing but our beauty to help us in life, we were carefully trained in all the accomplishments that give pleasure.
we were both quick to learn, and from our childhood could play all sorts of instruments, could sing, and above all could dance.
we were, besides, lively and merry, as in spite of our misfortunes we are to this day.
"we were easily pleased and quite content with our lives at home, when one morning the officials who had been sent to find wives for the sultan saw us, and were struck with our beauty.
we had always expected something of the sort, and were resigned to our lot, when we chanced to see two young men enter our house.
the elder, who was about twenty years of age, had black hair and very bright eyes.
the other could not have been more than fifteen, and was so fair that he might easily have passed for a girl.
"they knocked at the door with a timid air and begged our parents to give them shelter, as they had lost their way.
after some hesitation their request was granted, and they were invited into the room in which we were.
and if our parents" hearts were touched by their beauty, our own were not any harder, so that our departure for the palace, which had been arranged for the next day, suddenly became intolerable to us.
"night came, and i awoke from my sleep to find the younger of the two strangers sitting at my bedside and felt him take my hand."
""fear nothing, lovely dely," he whispered, "from one who never knew love till he saw you.
my name," he went on, "is prince delicate, and i am the son of the king of the isle of black marble.
my friend, who travels with me, is one of the richest nobles of my country, and the secrets which he knows are the envy of the sultan himself.
and we left our native country because my father wished me to marry a lady of great beauty, but with one eye a trifle smaller than the other."
"my vanity was flattered at so speedy a conquest, and i was charmed with the way the young man had declared his passion.
i turned my eyes slowly on him, and the look i gave him caused him almost to lose his senses.
he fell fainting forward, and i was unable to move till tezila, who had hastily put on a dress, ran to my assistance together with thelamis, the young noble of whom the prince had spoken.
"as soon as we were all ourselves again we began to bewail our fate, and the journey that we were to take that very day to constantinople.
but we felt a little comforted when thelamis assured us that he and the prince would follow in our steps, and would somehow contrive to speak to us.
then they kissed our hands, and left the house by a side-way."
a few moments later our parents came to tell us that the escort had arrived, and having taken farewell of them we mounted the camels, and took our seats in a kind of box that was fixed to the side of the animal.
these boxes were large enough for us to sleep in comfortably, and as there was a window in the upper part, we were able to see the country through which we passed.
"for several days we journeyed on, feeling sad and anxious as to what might become of us, when one day as i was looking out of the window of our room, i heard my name called, and beheld a beautifully dressed girl jumping out of the box on the other side of our camel.
one glance told me that it was the prince, and my heart bounded with joy.
it was, he said, thelamis's idea to disguise him like this, and that he himself had assumed the character of a slave-dealer who was taking this peerless maiden as a present to the sultan.
thelamis had also persuaded the officer in charge of the caravan to let him hire the vacant box, so it was easy for the prince to scramble out of his own window and approach ours.
"this ingenious trick enchanted us, but our agreeable conversation was soon interrupted by the attendants, who perceived that the camel was walking in a crooked manner and came to find out what was wrong.
luckily they were slow in their movements, and the prince had just time to get back to his own box and restore the balance, before the trick was discovered.
"but neither the prince nor his friend had any intention of allowing us to enter the sultan's palace, though it was difficult to know how we were to escape, and what was to become of us when once we had escaped.
at length, one day as we were drawing near constantinople, we learned from the prince that thelamis had made acquaintance with a holy dervish whom he had met on the road, and had informed him that we were his sisters, who were being sold as slaves against his will.
the good man was interested in the story, and readily agreed to find us shelter if we could manage to elude the watchfulness of our guards.
the risk was great, but it was our only chance.
"that night, when the whole caravan was fast asleep, we raised the upper part of our boxes and by the help of thelamis climbed silently out.
we next went back some distance along the way we had come, then, striking into another road, reached at last the retreat prepared for us by the dervish.
here we found food and rest, and i need not say what happiness it was to be free once more.
"the dervish soon became a slave to our beauty, and the day after our escape he proposed that we should allow him to conduct us to an inn situated at a short distance, where we should find two jews, owners of precious talismans which did not really belong to them.
""try," said the dervish, "by some means to get possession of them."
"the inn, though not on the direct road to constantinople, was a favourite one with merchants, owing to the excellence of the food, and on our arrival we discovered at least six or eight other people who had stopped for refreshment.
they greeted us politely, and we sat down to table together.
"in a short time the two men described by the dervish entered the room, and at a sign from him my sister made room at her side for one, while i did the same for the other.
"now the dervish had happened to mention that "their brother had danced."
at the moment we paid no attention to this remark, but it came back to our minds now, and we determined that they should dance also.
to accomplish this we used all our arts and very soon bent them to our wills, so that they could refuse us nothing.
at the end of the day we remained possessors of the talismans and had left them to their fate, while the prince and thelamis fell more in love with us than ever, and declared that we were more lovely than any women in the world.
"the sun had set before we quitted the inn, and we had made no plans as to where we should go next, so we readily consented to the prince's proposal that we should embark without delay for the isle of black marble.
what a place it was!
rocks blacker than jet towered above its shores and shed thick darkness over the country.
our sailors had not been there before and were nearly as frightened as ourselves, but thanks to thelamis, who undertook to be our pilot, we landed safely on the beach.
"when we had left the coast behind us, with its walls of jet, we entered a lovely country where the fields were greener, the streams clearer, and the sun brighter than anywhere else.
the people crowded round to welcome their prince, whom they loved dearly, but they told him that the king was still full of rage at his son's refusal to marry his cousin the princess okimpare, and also at his flight.
indeed, they all begged him not to visit the capital, as his life would hardly be safe.
so, much as i should have enjoyed seeing the home of my beloved prince, i implored him to listen to this wise advice and to let us all go to thelamis's palace in the middle of a vast forest.
"to my sister and myself, who had been brought up in a cottage, this house of thelamis's seemed like fairyland.
it was built of pink marble, so highly polished that the flowers and streams surrounding it were reflected as in a mirror.
one set of rooms was furnished especially for me in yellow silk and silver, to suit my black hair.
fresh dresses were provided for us every day, and we had slaves to wait on us.
ah, why could not this happiness have lasted for ever!
"the peace of our lives was troubled by thelamis's jealousy of my sister, as he could not endure to see her on friendly terms with the prince, though knowing full well that his heart was mine.
every day we had scenes of tender reproaches and of explanations, but tezila's tears never failed to bring thelamis to his knees, with prayers for forgiveness.
"we had been living in this way for some months when one day the news came that the king had fallen dangerously ill.
i begged the prince to hurry at once to the court, both to see his father and also to show himself to the senators and nobles, but as his love for me was greater than his desire of a crown, he hesitated as if foreseeing all that afterwards happened.
at last tezila spoke to him so seriously in thelamis's presence, that he determined to go, but promised that he would return before night.
"night came but no prince, and tezila, who had been the cause of his departure, showed such signs of uneasiness that thelamis's jealousy was at once awakened.
as for me, i can not tell what i suffered.
not being able to sleep i rose from my bed and wandered into the forest, along the road which he had taken so many hours before.
suddenly i heard in the distance the sound of a horse's hoofs, and in a few moments the prince had flung himself down and was by my side.
""ah, how i adore you!"
he exclaimed, "thelamis's love will never equal mine."
the words were hardly out of his mouth when i heard a slight noise behind, and before we could turn round both our heads were rolling in front of us, while the voice of thelamis cried: """perjured wretches, answer me; and you, faithless tezila, tell me why you have betrayed me like this?"
"then i understood what had happened, and that in his rage, he had mistaken me for my sister."
""alas," replied my head in weak tones, "i am not tezila, but dely, whose life you have destroyed, as well as that of your friend."
at this thelamis paused and seemed to reflect for an instant."
""be not frightened," he said more quietly, "i can make you whole again," and laying a magic powder on our tongues he placed our heads on our necks.
in the twinkling of an eye our heads were joined to our bodies without leaving so much as a scar; only that, blinded with rage as he still was, thelamis had placed my head on the prince's body, and his on mine!
-lsb- illustration: the wrong heads on the wrong bodies -rsb-" i can not describe to you how odd we both felt at this strange transformation.
we both instinctively put up our hands -- he to feel his hair, which was, of course, dressed like a woman, and i to raise the turban which pressed heavily on my forehead.
but we did not know what had happened to us, for the night was still dark.
"at this point tezila appeared, followed by a troop of slaves bearing flowers.
it was only by the light of their torches that we understood what had occurred.
indeed the first thought of both of us was that we must have changed clothes.
"now in spite of what we may say, we all prefer our own bodies to those of anybody else, so notwithstanding our love for each other, at first we could not help feeling a little cross with thelamis.
however, so deep was the prince's passion for me, that very soon he began to congratulate himself on the change.
""my happiness is perfect," he said, "my heart, beautiful dely, has always been yours, and now i have your head also."
"but though the prince made the best of it, thelamis was much ashamed of his stupidity.
""i have," he said hesitatingly, "two other pastilles which have the same magic properties as those i used before.
let me cut off your heads again, and that will put matters straight."
the proposal sounded tempting, but was a little risky, and after consulting together we decided to let things remain as they were.
""do not blame me then," continued thelamis, "if you will not accept my offer.
but take the two pastilles, and if it ever happens that you are decapitated a second time, make use of them in the way i have shown you, and each will get back his own head."
so saying he presented us with the pastilles, and we all returned to the castle.
"however, the troubles caused by the unfortunate exchange were only just beginning.
my head, without thinking what it was doing, led the prince's body to my apartments.
but my women, only looking at the dress, declared i had mistaken the corridor, and called some slaves to conduct me to his highness's rooms.
this was bad enough, but when -- as it was still night -- my servants began to undress me, i nearly fainted from surprise and confusion, and no doubt the prince's head was suffering in the same manner at the other end of the castle!
"by the next morning -- you will easily guess that we slept but little -- we had grown partly accustomed to our strange situation, and when we looked in the mirror, the prince had become brown-skinned and black-haired, while my head was covered with his curly golden locks.
and after that first day, every one in the palace had become so accustomed to the change that they thought no more about it.
"some weeks after this, we heard that the king of the isle of black marble was dead.
the prince's head, which once was mine, was full of ambitious desires, and he longed to ride straight to the capital and proclaim himself king.
but then came the question as to whether the nobles would recognise the prince with a girl's body, and indeed, when we came to think of it, which was prince and which was girl?
"at last, after much argument, my head carried the day and we set out; but only to find that the king had declared the princess okimpare his successor.
the greater part of the senators and nobles openly professed that they would much have preferred the rightful heir, but as they could not recognise him either in the prince or me, they chose to consider us as impostors and threw us into prison."
a few days later tezila and thelamis, who had followed us to the capital, came to tell us that the new queen had accused us of high treason, and had herself been present at our trial -- which was conducted without us.
they had been in mortal terror as to what would be our sentence, but by a piece of extraordinary luck we had been condemned to be beheaded."
i told my sister that i did not see exactly where the luck came in, but thelamis interrupted me rudely: """what!"
he cried, "of course i shall make use of the pastilles, and --" but here the officers arrived to lead us to the great square where the execution was to take place -- for okimpare was determined there should be no delay.
"the square was crowded with people of all ages and all ranks, and in the middle a platform had been erected on which was the scaffold, with the executioner, in a black mask, standing by.
at a sign from him i mounted first, and in a moment my head was rolling at his feet.
with a bound my sister and thelamis were beside me, and like lightning thelamis seized the sabre from the heads-man, and cut off the head of the prince.
and before the multitude had recovered from their astonishment at these strange proceedings, our bodies were joined to our right heads, and the pastilles placed on our tongues.
then thelamis led the prince to the edge of the platform and presented him to the people, saying "behold your lawful king."
"shouts of joy rent the air at the sound of thelamis's words, and the noise reached okimpare in the palace.
smitten with despair at the news, she fell down unconscious on her balcony, and was lifted up by the slaves and taken back to her own house.
"meanwhile our happiness was all turned to sorrow.
i had rushed up to the prince to embrace him fondly, when he suddenly grew pale and staggered."
""i die faithful to you," he murmured, turning his eyes towards me, "and i die a king!"
and leaning his head on my shoulder he expired quietly, for one of the arteries in his neck had been cut through.
"not knowing what i did i staggered towards the sabre which was lying near me, with the intention of following my beloved prince as speedily as possible.
and when thelamis seized my hand -lrb- but only just in time -rrb-, in my madness i turned the sabre upon him, and he fell struck through the heart at my feet."
* * * * * the whole company were listening to the story with breathless attention, when it became plain that dely could go no further, while tezila had flung herself on a heap of cushions and hidden her face.
zambac ordered her women to give them all the attention possible, and desired they should be carried into her own rooms.
when the two sisters were in this condition, ibrahim, who was a very prudent young man, suggested to his parents that as the two circassians were both unconscious, it would be an excellent opportunity to search them and see if the talismans belonging to the daughters of siroco were concealed about their persons.
but the bassa, shocked at the notion of treating his guests in so inhospitable a manner, refused to do anything of the kind, adding that the next day he hoped to persuade them to give the talismans up of their own free will.
by this time it was nearly midnight and neangir, who was standing near the jewess sumi, drew out the portrait of argentine, and heard with delight that she was even more beautiful than her picture.
every one was waiting on tiptoe for the appearance of the two watches, who were expected when the clock struck twelve to come in search of sumi, and that there might be no delay the bassa ordered all the doors to be flung wide open.
it was done, and there entered not the longed-for watches, but the page who had been sent away in disgrace.
then the bassa arose in wrath.
"azemi," he said, "did i not order you to stand no more in my presence?"
"my lord," replied azemi, modestly," i was hidden outside the door, listening to the tale of the two circassians.
and as i know you are fond of stories, give me also leave to tell you one.
i promise you it shall not be long."
"speak on," replied the bassa, "but take heed what you say."
"my lord," began azemi, "this morning i was walking in the town when i noticed a man going in the same direction followed by a slave.
he entered a baker's shop, where he bought some bread which he gave to the slave to carry.
i watched him and saw that he purchased many other kinds of provisions at other places, and when the slave could carry no more his master commanded him to return home and have supper ready at midnight.
"when left alone the man went up the street, and turning into a jeweller's shop, brought out a watch that as far as i could see was made of silver.
he walked on a few steps, then stooped and picked up a gold watch which lay at his feet.
at this point i ran up and told him that if he did not give me half its price i would report him to the cadi; he agreed, and conducting me to his house produced four hundred sequins, which he said was my share, and having got what i wanted i went away.
"as it was the hour for attending on my lord i returned home and accompanied you to the cadi, where i heard the story of the three jews and learned the importance of the two watches i had left at the stranger's.
i hastened to his house, but he had gone out, and i could only find the slave, whom i told that i was the bearer of important news for his master.
believing me to be one of his friends, he begged me to wait, and showed me into a room where i saw the two watches lying on the table.
i put them in my pocket, leaving the four hundred sequins in place of the gold watch and three gold pieces which i knew to be the price of the other.
as you know the watches never remain with the person who buys them, this man may think himself very lucky to get back his money.
i have wound them both up, and at this instant aurora and argentine are locked safely into my own room."
everybody was so delighted to hear this news that azemi was nearly stifled with their embraces, and neangir could hardly be prevented from running to break in the door, though he did not even know where the page slept.
but the page begged to have the honour of fetching the ladies himself, and soon returned leading them by the hand.
for some minutes all was a happy confusion, and ibrahim took advantage of it to fall on his knees before aurora, and search in the fifth fold of her dress for the missing coral bead.
the book of spells had told the truth; there it was, and as the chaplet was now complete the young man's days of seeking were over.
in the midst of the general rejoicing hassan alone bore a gloomy face.
"alas!"
he said, "everyone is happy but the miserable being you see before you.
i have lost the only consolation in my grief, which was to feel that i had a brother in misfortune!"
"be comforted," replied the bassa; "sooner or later the dervish who stole the pink bag is sure to be found."
supper was then served, and after they had all eaten of rare fruits which seemed to them the most delicious in the whole world, the bassa ordered the flask containing the elixir of love to be brought and the young people to drink of it.
then their eyes shone with a new fire, and they swore to be true to each other till death.
this ceremony was scarcely over when the clock struck one, and in an instant aurora and argentine had vanished, and in the place where they stood lay two watches.
silence fell upon all the company -- they had forgotten the enchantment; then the voice of azemi was heard asking if he might be allowed to take charge of the watches till the next day, pledging his head to end their enchantment.
with the consent of sumi, this was granted, and the bassa gave azemi a purse containing a thousand sequins, as a reward for the services he had already rendered to them.
after this everybody went to his own apartment.
azemi had never possessed so much money before, and never closed his eyes for joy the whole night long.
very early he got up and went into the garden, thinking how he could break the enchantment of the daughters of siroco.
suddenly the soft tones of a woman fell on his ear, and peeping through the bushes he saw tezila, who was arranging flowers in her sister's hair.
the rustling of the leaves caused dely to start; she jumped up as if to fly, but azemi implored her to remain and begged her to tell him what happened to them after the death of their lovers, and how they had come to find the dervish.
"the punishment decreed to us by the queen okimpare," answered dely, "was that we were to dance and sing in the midst of our sorrow, at a great fête which was to be held that very day for all her people.
this cruel command nearly turned our brains, and we swore a solemn oath to make all lovers as wretched as we were ourselves.
in this design we succeeded so well that in a short time the ladies of the capital came in a body to okimpare, and prayed her to banish us from the kingdom, before their lives were made miserable for ever.
she consented, and commanded us to be placed on board a ship, with our slave gouloucou.
"on the shore we saw an old man who was busily engaged in drowning some little black pigs, talking to them all the while, as if they could understand him.
-lsb- illustration: the dervish drowning the pigs -rsb-" "accursed race," said he, "it is you who have caused all the misfortunes of him to whom i gave the magic bracelet.
perish all of you!"
"we drew near from curiosity, and recognised in him the dervish who had sheltered us on our first escape from the caravan.
"when the old man discovered who we were he was beside himself with pleasure, and offered us a refuge in the cave where he lived.
we gladly accepted his offer, and to the cave we all went, taking with us the last little pig, which he gave us as a present."
""the bassa of the sea," he added, "will pay you anything you like to ask for it."
"without asking why it was so precious i took the pig and placed it in my work bag, where it has been ever since.
only yesterday we offered it to the bassa, who laughed at us, and this so enraged us against the dervish that we cut off his beard when he was asleep, and now he dare not show himself."
"ah," exclaimed the page, "it is not fitting that such beauty should waste itself in making other people miserable.
forget the unhappy past and think only of the future.
and accept, i pray you, this watch, to mark the brighter hours in store."
so saying he laid the watch upon her knee.
then he turned to tezila.
"and you, fair maiden, permit me to offer you this other watch.
true it is only of silver, but it is all i have left to give.
and i feel quite sure that you must have somewhere a silver seal, that will be exactly the thing to go with it."
"why, so you have," cried dely; "fasten your silver seal to your watch, and i will hang my gold one on to mine."
the seals were produced, and, as azemi had guessed, they were the talismans which the two circassians had taken from izif and izouf, mounted in gold and silver.
as quick as lightning the watches slid from the hands of tezila and her sister, and aurora and argentine stood before them, each with her talisman on her finger.
at first they seemed rather confused themselves at the change which had taken place, and the sunlight which they had not seen for so long, but when gradually they understood that their enchantment had come to an end, they could find no words to express their happiness.
the circassians could with difficulty be comforted for the loss of the talismans, but aurora and argentine entreated them to dry their tears, as their father, siroco, who was governor of alexandria, would not fail to reward them in any manner they wished.
this promise was soon confirmed by siroco himself, who came into the garden with the bassa and his two sons, and was speedily joined by the ladies of the family.
only hassan was absent.
it was the hour in which he was condemned to bewail his ebony hand.
to the surprise of all a noise was at this moment heard in a corner of the terrace, and hassan himself appeared surrounded by slaves, clapping his hands and shouting with joy."
i was weeping as usual," cried he, "when all at once the tears refused to come to my eyes, and on looking down at my hand i saw that its blackness had vanished.
and now, lovely zelida, nothing prevents me any longer from offering you the hand, when the heart has been yours always."
but though hassan never thought of asking or caring what had caused his cure, the others were by no means so indifferent.
it was quite clear that the little black pig must be dead -- but how, and when?
to this the slaves answered that they had seen that morning a man pursued by three others, and that he had taken refuge in the cavern which they had been left to guard.
then, in obedience to orders, they had rolled a stone over the entrance.
piercing shrieks interrupted their story, and a man, whom the circassians saw to be the old dervish, rushed round the corner of the terrace with the three jews behind him.
when the fugitive beheld so many people collected together, he turned down another path, but the slaves captured all four and brought them before their master.
what was the surprise of the bassa when he beheld in the old dervish the man who had given the chaplet, the copper plate, and the bracelet to his three sons.
"fear nothing, holy father," he said, "you are safe with me.
but tell us, how came you here?"
"my lord," explained the dervish, "when my beard was cut off during my sleep by the two circassians, i was ashamed to appear before the eyes of men, and fled, bearing with me the pink silk bag.
in the night these three men fell in with me, and we passed some time in conversation, but at dawn, when it was light enough to see each other's faces, one of them exclaimed that i was the dervish travelling with the two circassians who had stolen the talismans from the jews.
i jumped up and tried to fly to my cave, but they were too quick for me, and just as we reached your garden they snatched the bag which contained the little black pig and flung it into the sea.
by this act, which delivers your son, i would pray you to forgive them for any wrongs they may have done you -- nay more, that you will recompense them for it."
the bassa granted the holy man's request, and seeing that the two jews had fallen victims to the charms of the circassian ladies, gave his consent to their union, which was fixed to take place at the same time as that of izaf with the wise sumi.
the cadi was sent for, and the jews exchanged the hats of their race for the turbans of the followers of the prophet.
then, after so many misfortunes, the bassa's three sons entreated their father to delay their happiness no longer, and the six marriages were performed by the cadi at the hour of noon.
-lsb- cabinet des fées.
-rsb- the jackal and the spring once upon a time all the streams and rivers ran so dry that the animals did not know how to get water.
after a very long search, which had been quite in vain, they found a tiny spring, which only wanted to be dug deeper so as to yield plenty of water.
so the beasts said to each other, "let us dig a well, and then we shall not fear to die of thirst;" and they all consented except the jackal, who hated work of any kind, and generally got somebody to do it for him.
when they had finished their well, they held a council as to who should be made the guardian of the well, so that the jackal might not come near it, for, they said, "he would not work, therefore he shall not drink."
after some talk it was decided that the rabbit should be left in charge; then all the other beasts went back to their homes.
when they were out of sight the jackal arrived.
"good morning!
good morning, rabbit!"
and the rabbit politely said, "good morning!"
then the jackal unfastened the little bag that hung at his side, and pulled out of it a piece of honeycomb which he began to eat, and turning to the rabbit he remarked: "as you see, rabbit, i am not thirsty in the least, and this is nicer than any water."
"give me a bit," asked the rabbit.
so the jackal handed him a very little morsel.
"oh, how good it is!"
cried the rabbit; "give me a little more, dear friend!"
but the jackal answered, "if you really want me to give you some more, you must have your paws tied behind you, and lie on your back, so that i can pour it into your mouth."
the rabbit did as he was bid, and when he was tied tight and popped on his back, the jackal ran to the spring and drank as much as he wanted.
when he had quite finished he returned to his den.
in the evening the animals all came back, and when they saw the rabbit lying with his paws tied, they said to him: "rabbit, how did you let yourself be taken in like this?"
"it was all the fault of the jackal," replied the rabbit; "he tied me up like this, and told me he would give me something nice to eat.
it was all a trick just to get at our water."
"rabbit, you are no better than an idiot to have let the jackal drink our water when he would not help to find it.
who shall be our next watchman?
we must have somebody a little sharper than you!"
and the little hare called out," i will be the watchman."
the following morning the animals all went their various ways, leaving the little hare to guard the spring.
when they were out of sight the jackal came back.
"good morning!
good morning, little hare," and the little hare politely said, "good morning."
"can you give me a pinch of snuff?"
said the jackal."
i am so sorry, but i have none," answered the little hare.
the jackal then came and sat down by the little hare, and unfastened his little bag, pulling out of it a piece of honeycomb.
he licked his lips and exclaimed, "oh, little hare, if you only knew how good it is!"
"what is it?"
asked the little hare.
"it is something that moistens my throat so deliciously," answered the jackal, "that after i have eaten it i do n't feel thirsty any more, while i am sure that all you other beasts are for ever wanting water."
"give me a bit, dear friend," asked the little hare.
"not so fast," replied the jackal.
"if you really wish to enjoy what you are eating, you must have your paws tied behind you, and lie on your back, so that i can pour it into your mouth."
"you can tie them, only be quick," said the little hare, and when he was tied tight and popped on his back, the jackal went quietly down to the well, and drank as much as he wanted.
when he had quite finished he returned to his den.
in the evening the animals all came back; and when they saw the little hare with his paws tied, they said to him: "little hare, how did you let yourself be taken in like this?
did n't you boast you were very sharp?
you undertook to guard our water; now show us how much is left for us to drink!"
"it is all the fault of the jackal," replied the little hare, "he told me he would give me something nice to eat if i would just let him tie my hands behind my back."
then the animals said, "who can we trust to mount guard now?"
and the panther answered, "let it be the tortoise."
the following morning the animals all went their various ways, leaving the tortoise to guard the spring.
when they were out of sight the jackal came back.
"good morning, tortoise; good morning."
but the tortoise took no notice.
"good morning, tortoise; good morning."
but still the tortoise pretended not to hear.
then the jackal said to himself, "well, to-day i have only got to manage a bigger idiot than before.
i shall just kick him on one side, and then go and have a drink."
so he went up to the tortoise and said to him in a soft voice, "tortoise!
tortoise!"
but the tortoise took no notice.
then the jackal kicked him out of the way, and went to the well and began to drink, but scarcely had he touched the water, than the tortoise seized him by the leg.
the jackal shrieked out: "oh, you will break my leg!"
but the tortoise only held on the tighter.
the jackal then took his bag and tried to make the tortoise smell the honeycomb he had inside; but the tortoise turned away his head and smelt nothing.
at last the jackal said to the tortoise," i should like to give you my bag and everything in it," but the only answer the tortoise made was to grasp the jackal's leg tighter still.
so matters stood when the other animals came back.
the moment he saw them, the jackal gave a violent tug, and managed to free his leg, and then took to his heels as fast as he could.
and the animals all said to the tortoise: "well done, tortoise, you have proved your courage; now we can drink from our well in peace, as you have got the better of that thieving jackal!"
-lsb- contes populaires des bassoutos; recueilli et traduits par e. jacottet.
paris: leroux, éditeur. -rsb-
the bear once on a time there was a king who had an only daughter.
he was so proud and so fond of her, that he was in constant terror that something would happen to her if she went outside the palace, and thus, owing to his great love for her, he forced her to lead the life of a prisoner, shut up within her own rooms.
the princess did not like this at all, and one day she complained about it very bitterly to her nurse.
now, the nurse was a witch, though the king did not know it.
for some time she listened and tried to soothe the princess; but when she saw that she would not be comforted, she said to her: "your father loves you very dearly, as you know.
whatever you were to ask from him he would give you.
the one thing he will not grant you is permission to leave the palace.
now, do as i tell you.
go to your father and ask him to give you a wooden wheel-barrow, and a bear's skin.
when you have got them bring them to me, and i will touch them with my magic wand.
the wheel-barrow will then move of itself, and will take you at full speed wherever you want to go, and the bear's skin will make such a covering for you, that no one will recognise you."
so the princess did as the witch advised her.
the king, when he heard her strange request, was greatly astonished, and asked her what she meant to do with a wheel-barrow and a bear's skin.
and the princess answered, "you never let me leave the house -- at least you might grant me this request."
so the king granted it, and the princess went back to her nurse, taking the barrow and the bear's skin with her.
as soon as the witch saw them, she touched them with her magic wand, and in a moment the barrow began to move about in all directions.
the princess next put on the bear's skin, which so completely changed her appearance, that no one could have known that she was a girl and not a bear.
in this strange attire she seated herself on the barrow, and in a few minutes she found herself far away from the palace, and moving rapidly through a great forest.
here she stopped the barrow with a sign that the witch had shown her, and hid herself and it in a thick grove of flowering shrubs.
now it happened that the prince of that country was hunting with his dogs in the forest.
suddenly he caught sight of the bear hiding among the shrubs, and calling his dogs, hounded them on to attack it.
but the girl, seeing what peril she was in, cried, "call off your dogs, or they will kill me.
what harm have i ever done to you?"
at these words, coming from a bear, the prince was so startled that for a moment he stood stock-still, then he said quite gently, "will you come with me?
i will take you to my home.'"
i will come gladly," replied the bear; and seating herself on the barrow it at once began to move in the direction of the prince's palace.
you may imagine the surprise of the prince's mother when she saw her son return accompanied by a bear, who at once set about doing the house-work better than any servant that the queen had ever seen.
now it happened that there were great festivities going on in the palace of a neighbouring prince, and at dinner, one day, the prince said to his mother: "this evening there is to be a great ball, to which i must go."
and his mother answered, "go and dance, and enjoy yourself."
suddenly a voice came from under the table, where the bear had rolled itself, as was its wont: "let me come to the ball; i, too, would like to dance."
but the only answer the prince made was to give the bear a kick, and to drive it out of the room.
-lsb- illustration: the prince kicks the bear out of the room -rsb- in the evening the prince set off for the ball.
as soon as he had started, the bear came to the queen and implored to be allowed to go to the ball, saying that she would hide herself so well that no one would know she was there.
the kind-hearted queen could not refuse her.
then the bear ran to her barrow, threw off her bear's skin, and touched it with the magic wand that the witch had given her.
in a moment the skin was changed into an exquisite ball dress woven out of moon-beams, and the wheel-barrow was changed into a carriage drawn by two prancing steeds.
stepping into the carriage the princess drove to the grand entrance of the palace.
when she entered the ball-room, in her wondrous dress of moon-beams, she looked so lovely, so different from all the other guests, that everyone wondered who she was, and no one could tell where she had come from.
from the moment he saw her, the prince fell desperately in love with her, and all the evening he would dance with no one else but the beautiful stranger.
when the ball was over, the princess drove away in her carriage at full speed, for she wished to get home in time to change her ball dress into the bear's skin, and the carriage into the wheel-barrow, before anyone discovered who she was.
the prince, putting spurs into his horse, rode after her, for he was determined not to let her out of his sight.
but suddenly a thick mist arose and hid her from him.
when he reached his home he could talk to his mother of nothing else but the beautiful stranger with whom he had danced so often, and with whom he was so much in love.
and the bear beneath the table smiled to itself, and muttered: "i am the beautiful stranger; oh, how i have taken you in!"
the next evening there was a second ball, and, as you may believe, the prince was determined not to miss it, for he thought he would once more see the lovely girl, and dance with her and talk to her, and make her talk to him, for at the first ball she had never opened her lips.
and, sure enough, as the music struck up the first dance, the beautiful stranger entered the room, looking even more radiant than the night before, for this time her dress was woven out of the rays of the sun.
all evening the prince danced with her, but she never spoke a word.
when the ball was over he tried once more to follow her carriage, that he might know whence she came, but suddenly a great waterspout fell from the sky, and the blinding sheets of rain hid her from his sight.
when he reached his home he told his mother that he had again seen the lovely girl, and that this time she had been even more beautiful than the night before.
and again the bear smiled beneath the table, and muttered: "i have taken him in a second time, and he has no idea that i am the beautiful girl with whom he is so much in love."
on the next evening, the prince returned to the palace for the third ball.
and the princess went too, and this time she had changed her bear's skin into a dress woven out of the starlight, studded all over with gems, and she looked so dazzling and so beautiful, that everyone wondered at her, and said that no one so beautiful had ever been seen before.
and the prince danced with her, and, though he could not induce her to speak, he succeeded in slipping a ring on her finger.
when the ball was over, he followed her carriage, and rode at such a pace that for long he kept it in sight.
then suddenly a terrible wind arose between him and the carriage, and he could not overtake it.
when he reached his home he said to his mother," i do not know what is to become of me; i think i shall go mad, i am so much in love with that girl, and i have no means of finding out who she is.
i danced with her and i gave her a ring, and yet i do not know her name, nor where i am to find her."
then the bear laughed beneath the table and muttered to itself.
and the prince continued: "i am tired to death.
order some soup to be made for me, but i do n't want that bear to meddle with it.
every time i speak of my love the brute mutters and laughs, and seems to mock at me.
i hate the sight of the creature!"
when the soup was ready, the bear brought it to the prince; but before handing it to him, she dropped into the plate the ring the prince had given her the night before at the ball.
the prince began to eat his soup very slowly and languidly, for he was sad at heart, and all his thoughts were busy, wondering how and where he could see the lovely stranger again.
suddenly he noticed the ring at the bottom of the plate.
in a moment he recognised it, and was dumb with surprise.
then he saw the bear standing beside him, looking at him with gentle, beseeching eyes, and something in the eyes of the bear made him say: "take off that skin, some mystery is hidden beneath it."
and the bear's skin dropped off, and the beautiful girl stood before him, in the dress woven out of the starlight, and he saw that she was the stranger with whom he had fallen so deeply in love.
and now she appeared to him a thousand times more beautiful than ever, and he led her to his mother.
and the princess told them her story, and how she had been kept shut up by her father in his palace, and how she had wearied of her imprisonment.
and the prince's mother loved her, and rejoiced that her son should have so good and beautiful a wife.
so they were married, and lived happily for many years, and reigned wisely over their kingdom.
the sunchild once there was a woman who had no children, and this made her very unhappy.
so she spoke one day to the sunball, saying: "dear sunball, send me only a little girl now, and when she is twelve years old you may take her back again."
so soon after this the sunball sent her a little girl, whom the woman called letiko, and watched over with great care till she was twelve years old.
soon after that, while letiko was away one day gathering herbs, the sunball came to her, and said: "letiko, when you go home, tell your mother that she must bethink herself of what she promised me."
then letiko went straight home, and said to her mother: "while i was gathering herbs a fine tall gentleman came to me and charged me to tell you that you should remember what you promised him."
when the woman heard that she was sore afraid, and immediately shut all the doors and windows of the house, stopped up all the chinks and holes, and kept letiko hidden away, that the sunball should not come and take her away.
but she forgot to close up the keyhole, and through it the sunball sent a ray into the house, which took hold of the little girl and carried her away to him.
one day, the sunball having sent her to the straw shed to fetch straw, the girl sat down on the piles of straw and bemoaned herself, saving: "as sighs this straw under my feet so sighs my heart after my mother."
and this caused her to be so long away that the sunball asked her, when she came back: "eh, letiko, where have you been so long?"
she answered: "my slippers are too big, and i could not go faster."
then the sunball made the slippers shorter.
another time he sent her to fetch water, and when she came to the spring, she sat down and lamented, saying: "as flows the water even so flows my heart with longing for my mother."
thus she again remained so long away that the sunball asked her: "eh, letiko, why have you remained so long away?"
and she answered: "my petticoat is too long and hinders me in walking."
then the sunball cut her petticoat to make it shorter.
another time the sunball sent her to bring him a pair of sandals, and as the girl carried these in her hand she began to lament, saying: "as creaks the leather so creaks my heart after my little mother."
when she came home the sunball asked her again: "eh, letiko, why do you come home so late?"
"my red hood is too wide, and falls over my eyes, therefore i could not go fast."
then he made the hood narrower.
at last, however, the sunball became aware how sad letiko was.
he sent her a second time to bring straw, and, slipping in after her, he heard how she lamented for her mother.
then he went home, called two foxes to him, and said: "will you take letiko home?"
"yes, why not?"
"but what will you eat and drink if you should become hungry and thirsty by the way?"
"we will eat her flesh and drink her blood."
when the sunball heard that, he said: "you are not suited for this affair."
then he sent them away, and called two hares to him, and said: "will you take letiko home to her mother?"
"yes, why not?"
"what will you eat and drink if you should become hungry and thirsty by the way?"
"we will eat grass and drink from streamlets."
"then take her, and bring her home."
then the hares set out, taking letiko with them, and because it was a long way to her home they became hungry by the way.
then they said to the little girl: "climb this tree, dear letiko, and remain there till we have finished eating."
so letiko climbed the tree, and the hares went grazing.
it was not very long, however, before a lamia came under the tree and called out: "letiko, letiko, come down and see what beautiful shoes i have on."
"oh!
my shoes are much finer than yours."
"come down.
i am in a hurry, for my house is not yet swept."
"go home and sweep it then, and come back when you are ready."
then the lamia went away and swept her house, and when she was ready she came back and called out: "letiko, letiko, come down and see what a beautiful apron i have."
-lsb- illustration: letiko, letiko, come down and see what a beautiful apron i have -rsb- "oh!
my apron is much finer than yours."
"if you will not come down i will cut down the tree and eat you."
"do so, and then eat me."
then the lamia hewed with all her strength at the tree, but could not cut it down.
and when she saw that, she called out: "letiko, letiko, come down, for i must feed my children."
"go home then and feed them, and come back when you are ready."
when the lamia was gone away, letiko called out: "little hares!
little hares!"
then said one hare to the other: "listen, letiko is calling;" and they both ran back to her as fast as they could go.
then letiko came down from the tree, and they went on their way.
the lamia ran as fast as she could after them, to catch them up, and when she came to a field where people were working she asked them: "have you seen any one pass this way?"
they answered: "we are planting beans."
"oh!
i did not ask about that; but if any one had passed this way."
but the people only answered the louder: "are you deaf?
it is beans, beans, beans we are planting."
when letiko had nearly reached her home the dog knew her, and called out, "bow wow!
see here comes letiko!"
and the mother said, "hush!
thou beast of ill-omen!
wilt thou make me burst with misery?"
next the cat on the roof saw her, and called out "miaouw!
miaouw!
see here comes letiko!"
and the mother said, "keep silence!
thou beast of ill-omen!
wilt thou make me burst with misery?"
then the cock spied, and called out: "cock-a-doodle-do!
see here comes letiko!"
and the mother said again: "be quiet!
thou bird of ill-omen!
wilt thou make me burst with misery?"
the nearer letiko and the two hares came to the house the nearer also came the lamia, and when the hare was about to slip in by the house door she caught it by its little tail and tore it out.
-lsb- illustration: letiko gets home safe after all -rsb- when the hare came in the mother stood up and said to it: "welcome, dear little hare; because you have brought me back letiko i will silver your little tail."
and she did so; and lived ever after with her daughter in happiness and content.
the daughter of buk ettemsuch once upon a time there lived a man who had seven daughters.
for a long time they dwelt quite happily at home together, then one morning the father called them all before him and said: "your mother and i are going on a journey, and as we do not know how long we may be away, you will find enough provisions in the house to last you three years.
but see you do not open the door to any one till we come home again."
"very well, dear father," replied the girls.
for two years they never left the house or unlocked the door; but one day, when they had washed their clothes, and were spreading them out on the roof to dry, the girls looked down into the street where people were walking to and fro, and across to the market, with its stalls of fresh meat, vegetable, and other nice things.
"come here," cried one.
"it makes me quite hungry!
why should not we have our share?
let one of us go to the market, and buy meat and vegetables."
"oh, we must n't do that!"
said the youngest.
"you know our father forbade us to open the door till he came home again."
then the eldest sister sprang at her and struck her, the second spit at her, the third abused her, the fourth pushed her, the fifth flung her to the ground, and the sixth tore her clothes.
then they left her lying on the floor, and went out with a basket.
in about an hour they came back with the basket full of meat and vegetables, which they put in a pot, and set on the fire, quite forgetting that the house door stood wide open.
the youngest sister, however, took no part in all this, and when dinner was ready and the table laid, she stole softly out to the entrance hall, and hid herself behind a great cask which stood in one corner.
now, while the other sisters were enjoying their feast, a witch passed by, and catching sight of the open door, she walked in.
she went up to the eldest girl, and said: "where shall i begin on you, you fat bolster?"
"you must begin," answered she "with the hand which struck my little sister."
so the witch gobbled her up, and when the last scrap had disappeared, she came to the second and asked: "where shall i begin on you, my fat bolster?"
and the second answered, "you must begin on my mouth, which spat on my sister."
and so on to the rest; and very soon the whole six had disappeared.
and as the witch was eating the last mouthful of the last sister, the youngest, who had been crouching, frozen with horror, behind the barrel, ran out through the open door into the street.
without looking behind her, she hastened on and on, as fast as her feet would carry her, till she saw an ogre's castle standing in front of her.
in a corner near the door she spied a large pot, and she crept softly up to it and pulled the cover over it, and went to sleep.
by-and-by the ogre came home.
"fee, fo, fum," cried he," i smell the smell of a man.
what ill fate has brought him here?"
and he looked through all the rooms, and found nobody.
"where are you?"
he called.
"do not be afraid, i will do you no harm."
but the girl was still silent.
"come out, i tell you," repeated the ogre.
"your life is quite safe.
if you are an old man, you shall be my father.
if you are a boy, you shall be my son.
if your years are as many as mine, you shall be my brother.
if you are an old woman, you shall be my mother.
if you are a young one, you shall be my daughter.
if you are middle-aged, you shall be my wife.
so come out, and fear nothing."
then the maiden came out of her hiding-place, and stood before him.
-lsb- illustration: the maiden creeps out of the pot. -rsb-
"fear nothing," said the ogre again; and when he went away to hunt he left her to look after the house.
in the evening he returned, bringing with him hares, partridges, and gazelles, for the girl's supper; for himself he only cared for the flesh of men, which she cooked for him.
he also gave into her charge the keys of six rooms, but the key of the seventh he kept himself.
and time passed on, and the girl and the ogre still lived together.
she called him "father," and he called her "daughter," and never once did he speak roughly to her.
one day the maiden said to him, "father, give me the key of the upper chamber."
"no, my daughter," replied the ogre.
"there is nothing there that is any use to you."
"but i want the key," she repeated again.
however the ogre took no notice, and pretended not to hear.
the girl began to cry, and said to herself: "to-night, when he thinks i am asleep, i will watch and see where he hides it"; and after she and the ogre had supped, she bade him good-night, and left the room.
in a few minutes she stole quietly back, and watched from behind a curtain.
in a little while she saw the ogre take the key from his pocket, and hide it in a hole in the ground before he went to bed.
and when all was still she took out the key, and went back to the house.
the next morning the ogre awoke with the first ray of light, and the first thing he did was to look for the key.
it was gone, and he guessed at once what had become of it.
but instead of getting into a great rage, as most ogres would have done, he said to himself, "if i wake the maiden up i shall only frighten her.
for to-day she shall keep the key, and when i return to-night it will be time enough to take it from her."
so he went off to hunt.
the moment he was safe out of the way, the girl ran upstairs and opened the door of the room, which was quite bare.
the one window was closed, and she threw back the lattice and looked out.
beneath lay a garden which belonged to the prince, and in the garden was an ox, who was drawing up water from the well all by himself -- for there was nobody to be seen anywhere.
the ox raised his head at the noise the girl made in opening the lattice, and said to her, "good morning, o daughter of buk ettemsuch!
your father is feeding you up till you are nice and fat, and then he will put you on a spit and cook you."
these words so frightened the maiden that she burst into tears and ran out of the room.
all day she wept, and when the ogre came home at night, no supper was ready for him.
"what are you crying for?"
said he.
"where is my supper, and is it you who have opened the upper chamber?"
"yes, i opened it," answered she.
"and what did the ox say to you?"
"he said, "good morning, o daughter of buk ettemsuch.
your father is feeding you up till you are nice and fat, and then he will put you on a spit and cook you.""
"well, to-morrow you can go to the window and say, "my father is feeding me up till i am nice and fat, but he does not mean to eat me.
if i had one of your eyes i would use it for a mirror, and look at myself before and behind; and your girths should be loosened, and you should be blind -- seven days and seven nights.""
"all right," replied the girl, and the next morning, when the ox spoke to her, she answered him as she had been told, and he fell down straight upon the ground, and lay there seven days and seven nights.
but the flowers in the garden withered, for there was no one to water them.
when the prince came into his garden he found nothing but yellow stalks; in the midst of them the ox was lying.
with a blow from his sword he killed the animal, and, turning to his attendants, he said, "go and fetch another ox!"
and they brought in a great beast, and he drew the water out of the well, and the flowers revived, and the grass grew green again.
then the prince called his attendants and went away.
the next morning the girl heard the noise of the water-wheel, and she opened the lattice and looked out of the window.
"good morning, o daughter of buk ettemsuch!"
said the new ox.
"your father is feeding you up till you are nice and fat, and then he will put you on a spit and cook you."
and the maiden answered: "my father is feeding me up till i am nice and fat, but he does not mean to eat me.
if i had one of your eyes i would use it for a mirror, and look at myself before and behind; and your girths should be loosened, and you should be blind -- seven days and seven nights."
directly she uttered these words the ox fell to the ground and lay there, seven days and seven nights.
then he arose and began to draw the water from the well.
he had only turned the wheel once or twice, when the prince took it into his head to visit his garden and see how the new ox was getting on.
when he entered the ox was working busily; but in spite of that the flowers and grass were dried up.
and the prince drew his sword, and rushed at the ox to slay him, as he had done the other.
but the ox fell on his knees and said: "my lord, only spare my life, and let me tell you how it happened."
"how what happened?"
asked the prince.
"my lord, a girl looked out of that window and spoke a few words to me, and i fell to the ground.
for seven days and seven nights i lay there, unable to move.
but, o my lord, it is not given to us twice to behold beauty such as hers."
-lsb- illustration -rsb- "it is a lie," said the prince.
"an ogre dwells there.
is it likely that he keeps a maiden in his upper chamber?"
"why not?"
replied the ox.
"but if you come here at dawn to-morrow, and hide behind that tree, you will see for yourself."
"so i will," said the prince; "and if i find that you have not spoken truth, i will kill you."
the prince left the garden, and the ox went on with his work.
next morning the prince came early to the garden, and found the ox busy with the water-wheel.
"has the girl appeared yet?"
he asked.
"not yet; but she will not be long.
hide yourself in the branches of that tree, and you will soon see her."
the prince did as he was told, and scarcely was he seated when the maiden threw open the lattice.
"good morning, o daughter of buk ettemsuch!"
said the ox.
"your father is feeding you up till you are nice and fat, and then he will put you on a spit and cook you."
"my father is feeding me up till i am nice and fat, but he does not mean to eat me.
if i had one of your eyes i would use it for a mirror, and look at myself before and behind; and your girths should be loosened, and you should be blind -- seven days and seven nights."
and hardly had she spoken when the ox fell on the ground, and the maiden shut the lattice and went away.
but the prince knew that what the ox had said was true, and that she had not her equal in the whole world.
and he came down from the tree, his heart burning with love.
"why has the ogre not eaten her?"
thought he.
"this night i will invite him to supper in my palace and question him about the maiden, and find out if she is his wife."
so the prince ordered a great ox to be slain and roasted whole, and two huge tanks to be made, one filled with water and the other with wine.
and towards evening he called his attendants and went to the ogre's house to wait in the courtyard till he came back from hunting.
the ogre was surprised to see so many people assembled in front of his house; but he bowed politely and said, "good morning, dear neighbours!
to what do i owe the pleasure of this visit?
i have not offended you, i hope?"
"oh, certainly not!"
answered the prince.
"then," continued the ogre, "what has brought you to my house to-day for the first time?"
"we should like to have supper with you," said the prince.
"well, supper is ready, and you are welcome," replied the ogre, leading the way into the house, for he had had a good day, and there was plenty of game in the bag over his shoulder.
a table was quickly prepared, and the prince had already taken his place, when he suddenly exclaimed, "after all, buk ettemsuch, suppose you come to supper with me?"
"where?"
asked the ogre.
"in my house.
i know it is all ready."
"but it is so far off -- why not stay here?"
"oh, i will come another day; but this evening i must be your host."
so the ogre accompanied the prince and his attendants back to the palace.
after a while the prince turned to the ogre and said: "it is as a wooer that i appear before you.
i seek a wife from an honourable family."
"but i have no daughter," replied the ogre.
"oh, yes you have, i saw her at the window."
"well, you can marry her if you wish," said he.
so the prince's heart was glad as he and his attendants rode back with the ogre to his house.
and as they parted, the prince said to his guest, "you will not forget the bargain we have made?'"
i am not a young man, and never break my promises," said the ogre, and went in and shut the door.
upstairs he found the maiden, waiting till he returned to have her supper, for she did not like eating by herself."
i have had my supper," said the ogre, "for i have been spending the evening with the prince."
"where did you meet him?"
asked the girl.
"oh, we are neighbours, and grew up together, and to-night i promised that you should be his wife.'"
i do n't want to be any man's wife," answered she; but this was only pretence, for her heart too was glad.
next morning early came the prince, bringing with him bridal gifts, and splendid wedding garments, to carry the maiden back to his palace.
but before he let her go the ogre called her to him, and said, "be careful, girl, never to speak to the prince; and when he speaks to you, you must be dumb, unless he swears "by the head of buk ettemsuch."
then you may speak."
"very well," answered the girl.
they set out; and when they reached the palace, the prince led his bride to the room he had prepared for her, and said "speak to me, my wife," but she was silent; and by-and-by he left her, thinking that perhaps she was shy.
the next day the same thing happened, and the next.
at last he said, "well, if you wo n't speak, i shall go and get another wife who will."
and he did.
now when the new wife was brought to the palace the daughter of buk ettemsuch rose, and spoke to the ladies who had come to attend on the second bride.
"go and sit down.
i will make ready the feast."
and the ladies sat down as they were told, and waited.
the maiden sat down too, and called out, "come here, firewood," and the firewood came.
"come here, fire," and the fire came and kindled the wood.
"come here, pot."
"come here, oil;" and the pot and the oil came.
"get into the pot, oil!"
said she, and the oil did it.
when the oil was boiling, the maiden dipped all her fingers in it, and they became ten fried fishes.
"come here, oven," she cried next, and the oven came.
"fire, heat the oven."
and the fire heated it.
when it was hot enough, the maiden jumped in, just as she was, with her beautiful silver and gold dress, and all her jewels.
in a minute or two she had turned into a snow-white loaf, that made your mouth water.
said the loaf to the ladies, "you can eat now; do not stand so far off;" but they only stared at each other, speechless with surprise.
"what are you staring at?"
asked the new bride.
"at all these wonders," replied the ladies.
"do you call these wonders?"
said she scornfully;" i can do that too," and she jumped straight into the oven, and was burnt up in a moment.
then they ran to the prince and said: "come quickly, your wife is dead!"
"bury her, then!"
returned he.
"but why did she do it?
i am sure i said nothing to make her throw herself into the oven."
accordingly the burnt woman was buried, but the prince would not go to the funeral as all his thoughts were still with the wife who would not speak to him.
the next night he said to her, "dear wife, are you afraid that something dreadful will happen if you speak to me?
if you still persist in being dumb, i shall be forced to get another wife."
the poor girl longed to speak, but dread of the ogre kept her silent, and the prince did as he had said, and brought a fresh bride into the palace.
and when she and her ladies were seated in state, the maiden planted a sharp stake in the ground, and sat herself down comfortably on it, and began to spin.
"what are you staring at so?"
said the new bride to her ladies.
"do you think that is anything wonderful?
why, i can do as much myself!'"
i am sure you ca n't," said they, much too surprised to be polite.
then the maid sprang off the stake and left the room, and instantly the new wife took her place.
but the sharp stake ran through, and she was dead in a moment.
so they sent to the prince and said, "come quickly, and bury your wife."
"bury her yourselves," he answered.
"what did she do it for?
it was not by my orders that she impaled herself on the stake."
so they buried her; and in the evening the prince came to the daughter of buk ettemsuch, and said to her, "speak to me, or i shall have to take another wife."
but she was afraid to speak to him.
the following day the prince hid himself in the room and watched.
and soon the maiden woke, and said to the pitcher and to the water-jug, "quick!
go down to the spring and bring me some water; i am thirsty."
and they went.
but as they were filling themselves at the spring, the water-jug knocked against the pitcher and broke off its spout.
and the pitcher burst into tears, and ran to the maiden, and said: "mistress, beat the water-jug, for he has broken my spout!"
"by the head of buk ettemsuch, i implore you not to beat me!"
"ah," she replied, "if only my husband had sworn by that oath, i could have spoken to him from the beginning, and he need never have taken another wife.
but now he will never say it, and he will have to go on marrying fresh ones."
and the prince, from his hiding-place, heard her words, and he jumped up and ran to her and said, "by the head of buk ettemsuch, speak to me."
so she spoke to him, and they lived happily to the end of their days, because the girl kept the promise she had made to the ogre.
-lsb- märchen und gedichte aus der stadt tripolis.
von hans stumme. -rsb-
laughing eye and weeping eye, or the limping fox -lrb- servian story -rrb- once upon a time there lived a man whose right eye always smiled, and whose left eye always cried; and this man had three sons, two of them very clever, and the third very stupid.
now these three sons were very curious about the peculiarity of their father's eyes, and as they could not puzzle out the reason for themselves, they determined to ask their father why he did not have eyes like other people.
so the eldest of the three went one day into his father's room and put the question straight out; but, instead of answering, the man flew into a fearful rage, and sprang at him with a knife.
the young fellow ran away in a terrible fright, and took refuge with his brothers, who were awaiting anxiously the result of the interview.
"you had better go yourselves," was all the reply they got, "and see if you will fare any better."
upon hearing this, the second son entered his father's room, only to be treated in the same manner as his brother; and back he came telling the youngest, the fool of the family, that it was his turn to try his luck.
then the youngest son marched boldly up to his father and said to him, "my brothers would not let me know what answer you had given to their question.
but now, do tell me why your right eye always laughs and your left eye always weeps."
as before, the father grew purple with fury, and rushed forwards with his knife.
but the simpleton did not stir a step; he knew that he had really nothing to fear from his father.
"ah, now i see who is my true son," exclaimed the old man; "the others are mere cowards.
and as you have shown me that you are brave, i will satisfy your curiosity.
my right eye laughs because i am glad to have a son like you; my left eye weeps because a precious treasure has been stolen from me.
i had in my garden a vine that yielded a tun of wine every hour -- someone has managed to steal it, so i weep its loss."
the simpleton returned to his brothers and told them of their father's loss, and they all made up their minds to set out at once in search of the vine.
they travelled together till they came to some cross roads, and there they parted, the two elder ones taking one road, and the simpleton the other.
"thank goodness we have got rid of that idiot," exclaimed the two elder.
"now let us have some breakfast."
and they sat down by the roadside and began to eat.
they had only half finished, when a lame fox came out of a wood and begged them to give him something to eat.
but they jumped up and chased him off with their sticks, and the poor fox limped away on his three pads.
as he ran he reached the spot where the youngest son was getting out the food he had brought with him, and the fox asked him for a crust of bread.
the simpleton had not very much for himself, but he gladly gave half of his meal to the hungry fox.
"where are you going, brother?"
said the fox, when he had finished his share of the bread; and the young man told him the story of his father and the wonderful vine.
"dear me, how lucky!"
said the fox."
i know what has become of it.
follow me!"
so they went on till they came to the gate of a large garden.
"you will find here the vine that you are seeking, but it will not be at all easy to get it.
you must listen carefully to what i am going to say.
before you reach the vine you will have to pass twelve outposts, each consisting of two guards.
if you see these guards looking straight at you, go on without fear, for they are asleep.
but if their eyes are shut then beware, for they are wide awake.
if you once get to the vine, you will find two shovels, one of wood and the other of iron.
be sure not to take the iron one; it will make a noise and rouse the guards, and then you are lost."
the young man got safely through the garden without any adventures till he came to the vine which yielded a tun of wine an hour.
but he thought he should find it impossible to dig the hard earth with only a wooden shovel, so picked up the iron one instead.
the noise it made soon awakened the guards.
they seized the poor simpleton and carried him to their master.
"why do you try to steal my vine?"
demanded he; "and how did you manage to get past the guards?"
"the vine is not yours; it belongs to my father, and if you will not give it to me now, i will return and get it somehow."
"you shall have the vine if you will bring me in exchange an apple off the golden apple-tree that flowers every twenty-four hours, and bears fruit of gold."
so saying, he gave orders that the simpleton should be released, and this done, the youth hurried off to consult the fox.
"now you see," observed the fox, "this comes of not following my advice.
however, i will help you to get the golden apple.
it grows in a garden that you will easily recognise from my description.
near the apple-tree are two poles, one of gold, the other of wood.
take the wooden pole, and you will be able to reach the apple."
master simpleton listened carefully to all that was told him, and after crossing the garden, and escaping as before from the men who were watching it, soon arrived at the apple-tree.
but he was so dazzled by the sight of the beautiful golden fruit, that he quite forgot all that the fox had said.
he seized the golden pole, and struck the branch a sounding blow.
the guards at once awoke, and conducted him to their master.
then the simpleton had to tell his story."
i will give you the golden apple," said the owner of the garden, "if you will bring me in exchange a horse which can go round the world in four-and-twenty hours."
and the young man departed, and went to find the fox.
this time the fox was really angry, and no wonder.
"if you had listened to me, you would have been home with your father by this time.
however i am willing to help you once more.
go into the forest, and you will find the horse with two halters round his neck.
one is of gold, the other of hemp.
lead him by the hempen halter, or else the horse will begin to neigh, and will waken the guards.
then all is over with you."
so master simpleton searched till he found the horse, and was struck dumb at its beauty.
"what!"
he said to himself, "put the hempen halter on an animal like that?
not i, indeed!"
then the horse neighed loudly; the guards seized our young friend and conducted him before their master."
i will give you the golden horse," said he, "if you will bring me in exchange a golden maiden who has never yet seen either sun or moon."
"but if i am to bring you the golden maiden you must lend me first the golden steed with which to seek for her."
"ah," replied the owner of the golden horse, "but who will undertake that you will ever come back?'"
i swear on the head of my father," answered the young man, "that i will bring back either the maiden or the horse."
and he went away to consult the fox.
now, the fox who was always patient and charitable to other people's faults, led him to the entrance of a deep grotto, where stood a maiden all of gold, and beautiful as the day.
he placed her on his horse and prepared to mount.
-lsb- illustration: limping fox advises the simpleton to keep the golden girl himself -rsb- "are you not sorry," said the fox, "to give such a lovely maiden in exchange for a horse?
yet you are bound to do it, for you have sworn by the head of your father.
but perhaps i could manage to take her place."
so saying, the fox transformed himself into another golden maiden, so like the first that hardly anyone could tell the difference between them.
the simpleton took her straight to the owner of the horse, who was enchanted with her.
and the young man got back his father's vine and married the real golden maiden into the bargain.
-lsb- contes populaires slaves.
traduits par louis léger.
paris: ernest leroux, éditeur. -rsb-
the unlooked-for prince -lrb- polish story -rrb- a long time ago there lived a king and queen who had no children, although they both wished very much for a little son.
they tried not to let each other see how unhappy they were, and pretended to take pleasure in hunting and hawking and all sorts of other sports; but at length the king could bear it no longer, and declared that he must go and visit the furthest corners of his kingdom, and that it would be many months before he should return to his capital.
by that time he hoped he would have so many things to think about that he would have forgotten to trouble about the little son who never came.
the country the king reigned over was very large, and full of high, stony mountains and sandy deserts, so that it was not at all easy to go from one place to another.
one day the king had wandered out alone, meaning to go only a little distance, but everything looked so alike he could not make out the path by which he had come.
he walked on and on for hours, the sun beating hotly on his head, and his legs trembling under him, and he might have died of thirst if he had not suddenly stumbled on a little well, which looked as if it had been newly dug.
on the surface floated a silver cup with a golden handle, but as it bobbed about whenever the king tried to seize it, he was too thirsty to wait any longer and knelt down and drank his fill.
when he had finished he began to rise from his knees, but somehow his beard seemed to have stuck fast in the water, and with all his efforts he could not pull it out.
after two or three jerks to his head, which only hurt him without doing any good, he called out angrily, "let go at once!
who is holding me?"
"it is i, the king kostieï," said a voice from the well, and looking up through the water was a little man with green eyes and a big head.
"you have drunk from my spring, and i shall not let you go until you promise to give me the most precious thing your palace contains, which was not there when you left it."
now the only thing that the king much cared for in his palace was the queen herself, and as she was weeping bitterly on a pile of cushions in the great hall when he had ridden away, he knew that kostieï's words could not apply to her.
so he cheerfully gave the promise asked for by the ugly little man, and in the twinkling of an eye, man, spring, and cup had disappeared, and the king was left kneeling on the dry sand, wondering if it was all a dream.
but as he felt much stronger and better he made up his mind that this strange adventure must really have happened, and he sprang on his horse and rode off with a light heart to look for his companions.
in a few weeks they began to set out on their return home, which they reached one hot day, eight months after they had all left.
the king was greatly beloved by his people, and crowds lined the roads, shouting and waving their hats as the procession passed along.
on the steps of the palace stood the queen, with a splendid golden cushion in her arms, and on the cushion the most beautiful boy that ever was seen, wrapped about in a cloud of lace.
in a moment kostieï's words rushed into the king's mind, and he began to weep bitterly, to the surprise of everybody, who had expected him nearly to die of joy at the sight of his son.
but try as he would and work as hard as he might he could never forget his promise, and every time he let the baby out of his sight he thought that he had seen it for the last time.
however, years passed on and the prince grew first into a big boy, and then into a fine young man.
kostieï made no sign, and gradually even the anxious king thought less and less about him, and in the end forgot him altogether.
there was no family in the whole kingdom happier than the king and queen and prince, until one day when the youth met a little old man as he was hunting in a lonely part of the woods.
"how are you, my unlooked-for prince?"
he said.
"you kept them waiting a good long time!"
"and who are you?"
asked the prince.
"you will know soon enough.
when you go home give my compliments to your father and tell him that i wish he would square accounts with me.
if he neglects to pay his debts he will bitterly repent it."
so saying the old man disappeared, and the prince returned to the palace and told his father what had happened.
the king turned pale and explained to his son the terrible story.
"do not grieve over it, father," answered the prince.
"it is nothing so dreadful after all!
i will find some way to force kostieï to give up his rights over me.
but if i do not come back in a year's time, you must give up all hopes of ever seeing me."
then the prince began to prepare for his journey.
his father gave him a complete suit of steel armour, a sword, and a horse, while his mother hung round his neck a cross of gold.
so, kissing him tenderly, with many tears they let him go.
he rode steadily on for three days, and at sunset on the fourth day he found himself on the seashore.
on the sand before him lay twelve white dresses, dazzling as the snow, yet as far as his eyes could reach there was no one in sight to whom they could belong.
curious to see what would happen, he took up one of the garments, and leaving his horse loose, to wander about the adjoining fields, he hid himself among some willows and waited.
in a few minutes a flock of geese which had been paddling about in the sea approached the shore, and put on the dresses, struck the sand with their feet and were transformed in the twinkling of an eye into eleven beautiful young girls, who flew away as fast as they could.
the twelfth and youngest remained in the water, stretching out her long white neck and looking about her anxiously.
suddenly, among the willows, she perceived the king's son, and called out to him with a human voice: "oh prince, give me back my dress, and i shall be for ever grateful to you."
the prince hastened to lay the dress on the sand, and walked away.
when the maiden had thrown off the goose-skin and quickly put on her proper clothes, she came towards him and he saw that none had ever seen or told of such beauty as hers.
she blushed and held out her hand, saying to him in a soft voice: "i thank you, noble prince, for having granted my request.
i am the youngest daughter of kostieï the immortal, who has twelve daughters and rules over the kingdoms under the earth.
long time my father has waited for you, and great is his anger.
but trouble not yourself and fear nothing, only do as i bid you.
when you see the king kostieï, fall straightway upon your knees and heed neither his threats nor his cry, but draw near to him boldly.
that which will happen after, you will know in time.
now let us go."
at these words she struck the ground with her foot and a gulf opened, down which they went right into the heart of the earth.
in a short time they reached kostieï's palace, which gives light, with a light brighter than the sun, to the dark kingdoms below.
and the prince, as he had been bidden, entered boldly into the hall.
kostieï, with a shining crown upon his head, sat in the centre upon a golden throne.
his green eyes glittered like glass, his hands were as the claws of a crab.
when he caught sight of the prince he uttered piercing yells, which shook the walls of the palace.
the prince took no notice, but continued his advance on his knees towards the throne.
when he had almost reached it, the king broke out into a laugh and said: "it has been very lucky for you that you have been able to make me laugh.
stay with us in our underground empire, only first you will have to do three things.
to-night it is late.
go to sleep; to-morrow i will tell you."
early the following morning the prince received a message that kostieï was ready to see him.
he got up and dressed, and hastened to the presence chamber, where the little king was seated on his throne.
when the prince appeared, bowing low before him, kostieï began: "now, prince, this is what you have to do.
by to-night you must build me a marble palace, with windows of crystal and a roof of gold.
it is to stand in the middle of a great park, full of streams and lakes.
if you are able to build it you shall be my friend.
if not, off with your head."
the prince listened in silence to this startling speech, and then returning to his room set himself to think about the certain death that awaited him.
he was quite absorbed in these thoughts, when suddenly a bee flew against the window and tapped, saying, "let me come in."
he rose and opened the window, and there stood before him the youngest princess.
"what are you dreaming about, prince?'"
i was dreaming of your father, who has planned my death."
"fear nothing.
you may sleep in peace, and to-morrow morning when you awake you will find the palace all ready."
what she said, she did.
the next morning when the prince left his room he saw before him a palace more beautiful than his fancy had ever pictured.
kostieï for his part could hardly believe his eyes, and pondered deeply how it had got there.
"well, this time you have certainly won; but you are not going to be let off so easily.
to-morrow all my twelve daughters shall stand in a row before you, and if you can not tell me which of them is the youngest, off goes your head."
"what!
not recognise the youngest princess!"
said the prince to himself, as he entered his room," a likely story!"
"it is such a difficult matter that you will never be able to do it without my help," replied the bee, who was buzzing about the ceiling.
"we are all so exactly alike, that even our father scarcely knows the difference between us."
"then what must i do?"
"this.
the youngest is she who will have a ladybird on her eyelid.
be very careful.
now good-bye."
next morning king kostieï again sent for the prince.
the young princesses were all drawn up in a row, dressed precisely in the same manner, and with their eyes all cast down.
as the prince looked at them, he was amazed at their likeness.
twice he walked along the line, without being able to detect the sign agreed upon.
the third time his heart beat fast at the sight of a tiny speck upon the eyelid of one of the girls.
"this one is the youngest," he said.
"how in the world did you guess?"
cried kostieï in a fury.
"there is some jugglery about it!
but you are not going to escape me so easily.
in three hours you shall come here and give me another proof of your cleverness.
i shall set alight a handful of straw, and before it is burnt up you will have turned it into a pair of boots.
if not, off goes your head."
so the prince returned sadly into his room, but the bee was there before him.
"why do you look so melancholy, my handsome prince?"
"how can i help looking melancholy when your father has ordered me to make him a pair of boots?
does he take me for a shoemaker?"
"what do you think of doing?"
"not of making boots, at any rate!
i am not afraid of death.
one can only die once after all."
"no, prince, you shall not die.
i will try to save you.
and we will fly together or die together."
as she spoke she spat upon the ground, and then drawing the prince after her out of the room, she locked the door behind her and threw away the key.
holding each other tight by the hand, they made their way up into the sunlight, and found themselves by the side of the same sea, while the prince's horse was still quietly feeding in the neighbouring meadow.
the moment he saw his master, the horse whinnied and galloped towards him.
without losing an instant the prince sprang into the saddle, swung the princess behind him, and away they went like an arrow from a bow.
when the hour arrived which kostieï had fixed for the prince's last trial, and there were no signs of him, the king sent to his room to ask why he delayed so long.
the servants, finding the door locked, knocked loudly and received for answer, "in one moment."
it was the spittle, which was imitating the voice of the prince.
the answer was taken back to kostieï.
he waited; still no prince.
he sent the servants back again, and the same voice replied, "immediately."
"he is making fun of me!"
shrieked kostieï in a rage.
"break in the door, and bring him to me!"
the servants hurried to do his bidding.
the door was broken open.
nobody inside; but just the spittle in fits of laughter!
kostieï was beside himself with rage, and commanded his guards to ride after the fugitives.
if the guards returned without the fugitives, their heads should pay for it.
by this time the prince and princess had got a good start, and were feeling quite happy, when suddenly they heard the sound of a gallop far behind them.
the prince sprang from the saddle, and laid his ear to the ground.
"they are pursuing us," he said.
"then there is no time to be lost," answered the princess; and as she spoke she changed herself into a river, the prince into a bridge, the horse into a crow, and divided the wide road beyond the bridge into three little ones.
when the soldiers came up to the bridge, they paused uncertainly.
how were they to know which of the three roads the fugitives had taken?
they gave it up in despair and returned in trembling to kostieï.
"idiots!"
he exclaimed, in a passion.
"they were the bridge and the river, of course!
do you mean to say you never thought of that?
go back at once!"
and off they galloped like lightning.
but time had been lost, and the prince and princess were far on their way."
i hear a horse," cried the princess.
the prince jumped down and laid his ear to the ground.
"yes," he said, "they are not far off now."
in an instant prince, princess, and horse had all disappeared, and instead was a dense forest, crossed and recrossed by countless paths.
kostieï's soldiers dashed hastily into the forest, believing they saw before them the flying horse with its double burden.
they seemed close upon them, when suddenly horse, wood, everything disappeared, and they found themselves at the place where they started.
there was nothing for it but to return to kostieï, and tell him of this fresh disaster."
a horse!
a horse!"
cried the king."
i will go after them myself.
this time they shall not escape."
and he galloped off, foaming with anger."
i think i hear someone pursuing us," said the princess.
"yes, so do i." "and this time it is kostieï himself.
but his power only reaches as far as the first church, and he can go no farther.
give me your golden cross."
so the prince unfastened the cross which was his mother's gift, and the princess hastily changed herself into a church, the prince into a priest, and the horse into a belfry.
it was hardly done when kostieï came up.
"greeting, monk.
have you seen some travellers on horseback pass this way?"
"yes, the prince and kostieï's daughter have just gone by.
they have entered the church, and told me to give you their greetings if i met you."
then kostieï knew that he had been hopelessly beaten, and the prince and princess continued their journey without any more adventures.
-lsb- contes populaires slaves.
traduits par louis léger.
paris: leroux, éditeur. -rsb-
the simpleton there lived, once upon a time, a man who was as rich as he could be; but as no happiness in this world is ever quite complete, he had an only son who was such a simpleton that he could barely add two and two together.
at last his father determined to put up with his stupidity no longer, and giving him a purse full of gold, he sent him off to seek his fortune in foreign lands, mindful of the adage: how much a fool that's sent to roam excels a fool that stays at home.
moscione, for this was the youth's name, mounted a horse, and set out for venice, hoping to find a ship there that would take him to cairo.
after he had ridden for some time he saw a man standing at the foot of a poplar tree, and said to him: "what's your name, my friend; where do you come from, and what can you do?"
the man replied, "my name is quick-as-thought, i come from fleet-town, and i can run like lightning.'"
i should like to see you," returned moscione.
"just wait a minute, then," said quick-as-thought, "and i will soon show you that i am speaking the truth."
the words were hardly out of his mouth when a young doe ran right across the field they were standing in.
quick-as-thought let her run on a short distance, in order to give her a start, and then pursued her so quickly and so lightly that you could not have tracked his footsteps if the field had been strewn with flour.
in a very few springs he had overtaken the doe, and had so impressed moscione with his fleetness of foot that he begged quick-as-thought to go with him, promising at the same time to reward him handsomely.
quick-as-thought agreed to his proposal, and they continued on their journey together.
they had hardly gone a mile when they met a young man, and moscione stopped and asked him: "what's your name, my friend; where do you come from, and what can you do?"
the man thus addressed answered promptly," i am called hare's - ear, i come from curiosity valley, and if i lay my ear on the ground, without moving from the spot, i can hear everything that goes on in the world, the plots and intrigues of court and cottage, and all the plans of mice and men."
"if that's the case," replied moscione, "just tell me what's going on in my own home at present."
the youth laid his ear to the ground and at once reported: "an old man is saying to his wife, "heaven be praised that we have got rid of moscione, for perhaps, when he has been out in the world a little, he may gain some common sense, and return home less of a fool than when he set out.""
"enough, enough," cried moscione.
"you speak the truth, and i believe you.
come with us, and your fortune's made."
the young man consented; and after they had gone about ten miles, they met a third man, to whom moscione said: "what's your name, my brave fellow; where were you born, and what can you do?"
the man replied," i am called hit-the-point, i come from the city of perfect-aim, and i draw my bow so exactly that i can shoot a pea off a stone.'"
i should like to see you do it, if you've no objection," said moscione.
the man at once placed a pea on a stone, and, drawing his bow, he shot it in the middle with the greatest possible ease.
when moscione saw that he had spoken the truth, he immediately asked hit-the-point to join his party.
after they had all travelled together for some days, they came upon a number of people who were digging a trench in the blazing sun.
moscione felt so sorry for them, that he said: "my dear friends, how can you endure working so hard in heat that would cook an egg in a minute?"
but one of the workmen answered: "we are as fresh as daisies, for we have a young man among us who blows on our backs like the west wind."
"let me see him," said moscione.
the youth was called, and moscione asked him: "what's your name; where do you come from, and what can you do?"
he answered: "i am called blow-blast, i come from wind-town, and with my mouth i can make any winds you please.
if you wish a west wind i can raise it for you in a second, but if you prefer a north wind i can blow these houses down before your eyes."
"seeing is believing," returned the cautious moscione.
blow-blast at once began to convince him of the truth of his assertion.
first he blew so softly that it seemed like the gentle breeze at evening, and then he turned round and raised such a mighty storm, that he blew down a whole row of oak trees.
when moscione saw this he was delighted, and begged blow-blast to join his company.
and as they went on their way they met another man, whom moscione addressed as usual: "what's your name; where do you come from, and what can you do?'"
i am called strong-back; i come from power-borough, and i possess such strength that i can take a mountain on my back, and it seems a feather to me."
"if that's the case," said moscione, "you are a clever fellow; but i should like some proof of your strength."
then strong-back loaded himself with great boulders of rock and trunks of trees, so that a hundred waggons could not have taken away all that he carried on his back.
when moscione saw this he prevailed on strong-back to join his troop, and they all continued their journey till they came to a country called flower vale.
here there reigned a king whose only daughter ran as quickly as the wind, and so lightly that she could run over a field of young oats without bending a single blade.
the king had given out a proclamation that anyone who could beat the princess in a race should have her for a wife, but that all who failed in the competition should lose their head.
as soon as moscione heard of the royal proclamation, he hastened to the king and challenged the princess to race with him.
but on the morning appointed for the trial he sent word to the king that he was not feeling well, and that as he could not run himself he would supply someone to take his place.
"it's just the same to me," said canetella, the princess; "let anyone come forward that likes, i am quite prepared to meet him."
at the time appointed for the race the whole place was crowded with people anxious to see the contest, and, punctual to the moment, quick-as-thought, and canetella dressed in a short skirt and very lightly shod, appeared at the starting-point.
then a silver trumpet sounded, and the two rivals started on their race, looking for all the world like a greyhound chasing a hare.
but quick-as-thought, true to his name, outran the princess, and when the goal was reached the people all clapped their hands and shouted, "long live the stranger!"
-lsb- illustration: the princess beaten by quick-as-thought -rsb- canetella was much depressed by her defeat; but, as the race had to be run a second time, she determined she would not be beaten again.
accordingly she went home and sent quick-as-thought a magic ring, which prevented the person who wore it, not only from running, but even from walking, and begged that he would wear it for her sake.
early next morning the crowd assembled on the race-course, and canetella and quick-as-thought began their trial afresh.
the princess ran as quickly as ever, but poor quick-as-thought was like an overloaded donkey, and could not go a step.
then hit-the-point, who had heard all about the princess's deception from hare's - ear, when he saw the danger his friend was in, seized his bow and arrow and shot the stone out of the ring quick-as-thought was wearing.
in a moment the youth's legs became free again, and in five bounds he had overtaken canetella and won the race.
the king was much disgusted when he saw that he must acknowledge moscione as his future son-in-law, and summoned the wise men of his court to ask if there was no way out of the difficulty.
the council at once decided that canetella was far too dainty a morsel for the mouth of such a travelling tinker, and advised the king to offer moscione a present of gold, which no doubt a beggar like him would prefer to all the wives in the world.
the king was delighted at this suggestion, and calling moscione before him, he asked him what sum of money he would take instead of his promised bride.
moscione first consulted with his friends, and then answered: "i demand as much gold and precious stones as my followers can carry away."
the king thought he was being let off very easily, and produced coffers of gold, sacks of silver, and chests of precious stones; but the more strong-back was loaded with the treasure the straighter he stood.
at last the treasury was quite exhausted, and the king had to send his courtiers to his subjects to collect all the gold and silver they possessed.
but nothing was of any avail, and strong-back only asked for more.
when the king's counsellors saw the unexpected result of their advice, they said it would be more than foolish to let some strolling thieves take so much treasure out of the country, and urged the king to send a troop of soldiers after them, to recover the gold and precious stones.
so the king sent a body of armed men on foot and horse, to take back the treasure strong-back was carrying away with him.
but hare's - ear, who had heard what the counsellors had advised the king, told his companions just as the dust of their pursuers was visible on the horizon.
no sooner had blow-blast taken in their danger than he raised such a mighty wind that all the king's army was blown down like so many nine-pins, and as they were quite unable to get up again, moscione and his companions proceeded on their way without further let or hindrance.
as soon as they reached his home, moscione divided his spoil with his companions, at which they were much delighted.
he, himself, stayed with his father, who was obliged at last to acknowledge that his son was not quite such a fool as he looked.
-lsb- from the italian, kletke. -rsb-
the street musicians a man once possessed a donkey which had served him faithfully for many years, but at last the poor beast grew old and feeble, and every day his work became more of a burden.
as he was no longer of any use, his master made up his mind to shoot him; but when the donkey learnt the fate that was in store for him, he determined not to die, but to run away to the nearest town and there to become a street musician.
when he had trotted along for some distance he came upon a greyhound lying on the road, and panting for dear life.
"well, brother," said the donkey, "what's the matter with you?
you look rather tired."
"so i am," replied the dog, "but because i am getting old and am growing weaker every day, and can not go out hunting any longer, my master wanted to poison me; and, as life is still sweet, i have taken leave of him.
but how i am to earn my own livelihood i have n't a notion."
"well," said the donkey," i am on my way to the nearest big town, where i mean to become a street musician.
why do n't you take up music as a profession and come along with me?
i'll play the flute and you can play the kettle-drum."
the greyhound was quite pleased at the idea, and the two set off together.
when they had gone a short distance they met a cat with a face as long as three rainy days.
"now, what has happened to upset your happiness, friend puss?"
inquired the donkey.
"it's impossible to look cheerful when one feels depressed," answered the cat."
i am well up in years now, and have lost most of my teeth; consequently i prefer sitting in front of the fire to catching mice, and so my old mistress wanted to drown me.
i have no wish to die yet, so i ran away from her; but good advice is expensive, and i do n't know where i am to go to, or what i am to do."
"come to the nearest big town with us," said the donkey, "and try your fortune as a street musician.
i know what sweet music you make at night, so you are sure to be a success."
the cat was delighted with the donkey's proposal, and they all continued their journey together.
in a short time they came to the courtyard of an inn, where they found a cock crowing lustily.
"what in the world is the matter with you?"
asked the donkey.
"the noise you are making is enough to break the drums of our ears.'"
i am only prophesying good weather," said the cock; "for to-morrow is a feast day, and just because it is a holiday and a number of people are expected at the inn, the landlady has given orders for my neck to be wrung to-night, so that i may be made into soup for to-morrow's dinner."
"i'll tell you what, redcap," said the donkey; "you had much better come with us to the nearest town.
you have got a good voice, and could join a street band we are getting up."
the cock was much pleased with the idea, and the party proceeded on their way.
but the nearest big town was a long way off, and it took them more than a day to reach it.
in the evening they came to a wood, and they made up their minds to go no further, but to spend the night there.
the donkey and the greyhound lay down under a big tree, and the cat and the cock got up into the branches, the cock flying right up to the topmost twig, where he thought he would be safe from all danger.
before he went to sleep he looked round the four points of the compass, and saw a little spark burning in the distance.
he called out to his companions that he was sure there must be a house not far off, for he could see a light shining.
when he heard this, the donkey said at once: "then we must get up, and go and look for the house, for this is very poor shelter."
and the greyhound added: "yes; i feel i'd be all the better for a few bones and a scrap or two of meat."
so they set out for the spot where the light was to be seen shining faintly in the distance, but the nearer they approached it the brighter it grew, till at last they came to a brilliantly lighted house.
the donkey being the biggest of the party, went to the window and looked in.
"well, greyhead, what do you see?"
asked the cock."
i see a well-covered table," replied the donkey, "with excellent food and drink, and several robbers are sitting round it, enjoying themselves highly.'"
i wish we were doing the same," said the cock.
"so do i," answered the donkey.
"ca n't we think of some plan for turning out the robbers, and taking possession of the house ourselves?"
so they consulted together what they were to do, and at last they arranged that the donkey should stand at the window with his fore-feet on the sill, that the greyhound should get on his back, the cat on the dog's shoulder, and the cock on the cat's head.
when they had grouped themselves in this way, at a given signal, they all began their different forms of music.
the donkey brayed, the greyhound barked, the cat miawed, and the cock crew.
then they all scrambled through the window into the room, breaking the glass into a thousand pieces as they did so.
the robbers were all startled by the dreadful noise, and thinking that some evil spirits at the least were entering the house, they rushed out into the wood, their hair standing on end with terror.
the four companions, delighted with the success of their trick, sat down at the table, and ate and drank all the food and wine that the robbers had left behind them.
when they had finished their meal they put out the lights, and each animal chose a suitable sleeping-place.
the donkey lay down in the courtyard outside the house, the dog behind the door, the cat in front of the fire, and the cock flew up on to a high shelf, and, as they were all tired after their long day, they soon went to sleep.
shortly after midnight, when the robbers saw that no light was burning in the house and that all seemed quiet, the captain of the band said: "we were fools to let ourselves be so easily frightened away;" and, turning to one of his men, he ordered him to go and see if all was safe.
the man found everything in silence and darkness, and going into the kitchen he thought he had better strike a light.
he took a match, and mistaking the fiery eyes of the cat for two glowing coals, he tried to light his match with them.
but the cat did n't see the joke, and sprang at his face, spitting and scratching him in the most vigorous manner.
the man was terrified out of his life, and tried to run out by the back door; but he stumbled over the greyhound, which bit him in the leg.
yelling with pain he ran across the courtyard only to receive a kick from the donkey's hind leg as he passed him.
in the meantime the cock had been roused from his slumbers, and feeling very cheerful he called out, from the shelf where he was perched, "kikeriki!"
then the robber hastened back to his captain and said: "sir, there is a dreadful witch in the house, who spat at me and scratched my face with her long fingers; and before the door there stands a man with a long knife, who cut my leg severely.
in the courtyard outside lies a black monster, who fell upon me with a huge wooden club; and that is not all, for, sitting on the roof, is a judge, who called out: "bring the rascal to me."
so i fled for dear life."
after this the robbers dared not venture into the house again, and they abandoned it for ever.
but the four street musicians were so delighted with their lodgings that they determined to take up their abode in the robbers" house, and, for all i know to the contrary, they may be living there to this day.
-lsb- from the german, kletke. -rsb-
the twin brothers once there was a fisherman who had plenty of money but no children.
one day an old woman came to his wife and said: "what use is all your prosperity to you when you have no children?"
"it is god's will," answered the fisherman's wife.
"nay, my child, it is not god's will, but the fault of your husband; for if he would but catch the little gold-fish you would surely have children.
to-night, when he comes home, tell him he must go back and catch the little fish.
he must then cut it in six pieces -- one of these you must eat, and your husband the second, and soon after you will have two children.
the third piece you must give to the dog, and she will have two puppies.
the fourth piece give to the mare, and she will have two foals.
the fifth piece bury on the right of the house door, and the sixth on the left, and two cypress trees will spring up there."
when the fisherman came home at evening his wife told him all that the old woman had advised, and he promised to bring home the little gold-fish.
next morning, therefore, he went very early to the water, and caught the little fish.
then they did as the old woman had ordered, and in due time the fisherman's wife had two sons, so like each other that no one could tell the difference.
the dog had two puppies exactly alike, the mare had two foals, and on each side of the front door there sprang up two cypress trees precisely similar.
when the two boys were grown up, they were not content to remain at home, though they had wealth in plenty; but they wished to go out into the world, and make a name for themselves.
their father would not allow them both to go at once, as they were the only children he had.
he said: "first one shall travel, and when he is come back then the other may go."
so the one took his horse and his dog, and went, saying to his brother: "so long as the cypress trees are green, that is a sign that i am alive and well; but if one begins to wither, then make haste and come to me."
so he went forth into the world.
one day he stopped at the house of an old woman, and as at evening he sat before the door, he perceived in front of him a castle standing on a hill.
he asked the old woman to whom it belonged, and her answer was: "my son, it is the castle of the fairest in the land!"
"and i am come here to woo her!"
"that, my son, many have sought to do, and have lost their lives in the attempt; for she has cut off their heads and stuck them on the post you see standing there."
"and the same will she do to me, or else i shall be victor, for to-morrow i go there to court her."
then he took his zither and played upon it so beautifully that no one in all that land had ever heard the like, and the princess herself came to the window to listen.
the next morning the fairest in the land sent for the old woman and asked her, "who is it that lives with you, and plays the zither so well?"
"it is a stranger, princess, who arrived yesterday evening," answered the old woman.
and the princess then commanded that the stranger should be brought to her.
when he appeared before the princess she questioned him about his home and his family, and about this and that; and confessed at length that his zither-playing gave her great pleasure, and that she would take him for her husband.
the stranger replied that it was with that intent he had come.
the princess then said: "you must now go to my father, and tell him you desire to have me to wife, and when he has put the three problems before you, then come back and tell me."
the stranger then went straight to the king, and told him that he wished to wed his daughter.
and the king answered: "i shall be well pleased, provided you can do what i impose upon you; if not you will lose your head.
now, listen; out there on the ground, there lies a thick log, which measures more than two fathoms; if you can cleave it in two with one stroke of your sword, i will give you my daughter to wife.
if you fail, then it will cost you your head."
then the stranger withdrew, and returned to the house of the old woman sore distressed, for he could believe nothing but that next day he must atone to the king with his head.
and so full was he of the idea of how to set about cleaving the log that he forgot even his zither.
in the evening came the princess to the window to listen to his playing, and behold all was still.
then she called to him: "why are you so cast down this evening, that you do not play on your zither?"
and he told her his trouble.
but she laughed at it, and called to him: "and you grieve over that?
bring quickly your zither, and play something for my amusement, and early to-morrow come to me."
then the stranger took his zither and played the whole evening for the amusement of the princess.
next morning she took a hair from her locks and gave it to him, saying: "take this hair, and wind it round your sword, then you will be able to cleave the log in two."
then the stranger went forth, and with one blow cleft the log in two.
but the king said: "i will impose another task upon you, before you can wed my daughter."
"speak on," said the stranger.
"listen, then," answered the king; "you must mount a horse and ride three miles at full gallop, holding in each hand a goblet full of water.
if you spill no drop then i shall give you my daughter to wife, but should you not succeed then i will take your life."
then the stranger returned to the house of the old woman, and again he was so troubled as to forget his zither.
in the evening the princess came to the window as before to listen to the music, but again all was still; and she called to him: "what is the matter that you do not play on your zither?"
then he related all that the king had ordered him to do, and the princess answered: "do not let yourself be disturbed, only play now, and come to me to-morrow morning."
then next morning he went to her, and she gave him her ring, saying: "throw this ring into the water and it will immediately freeze, so that you will not spill any."
the stranger did as the princess bade him, and carried the water all the way.
then the king said: "now i will give you a third task, and this shall be the last.
i have a negro who will fight with you to-morrow, and if you are the conqueror you shall wed my daughter."
the stranger returned, full of joy, to the house of the old woman, and that evening was so merry that the princess called to him: "you seem very cheerful this evening; what has my father told you that makes you so glad?"
he answered: "your father has told me that to-morrow i must fight with his negro.
he is only another man like myself, and i hope to subdue him, and to gain the contest."
but the princess answered: "this is the hardest of all.
i myself am the black man, for i swallow a drink that changes me into a negro of unconquerable strength.
go to-morrow morning to the market, buy twelve buffalo hides and wrap them round your horse; fasten this cloth round you, and when i am let loose upon you to-morrow show it to me, that i may hold myself back and may not kill you.
then when you fight me you must try to hit my horse between the eyes, for when you have killed it you have conquered me."
next morning, therefore, he went to the market and bought the twelve buffalo hides which he wrapped round his horse.
then he began to fight with the black man, and when the combat had already lasted a long time, and eleven hides were torn, then the stranger hit the negro's horse between the eyes, so that it fell dead, and the black man was defeated.
then said the king: "because you have solved the three problems i take you for my son-in-law."
but the stranger answered: "i have some business to conclude first; in fourteen days i will return and bring the bride home."
so he arose and went into another country, where he came to a great town, and alighted at the house of an old woman.
when he had had supper he begged of her some water to drink, but she answered: "my son, i have no water; a giant has taken possession of the spring, and only lets us draw from it once a year, when we bring him a maiden.
he eats her up, and then he lets us draw water; just now it is the lot of the king's daughter, and to-morrow she will be led forth."
the next day accordingly the princess was led forth to the spring, and bound there with a golden chain.
after that all the people went away and she was left alone.
when they had gone the stranger went to the maiden and asked her what ailed her that she lamented so much, and she answered that the reason was because the giant would come and eat her up.
and the stranger promised that he would set her free if she would take him for her husband, and the princess joyfully consented.
when the giant appeared the stranger set his dog at him, and it took him by the throat and throttled him till he died; so the princess was set free.
now when the king heard of it he gladly consented to the marriage, and the wedding took place with great rejoicings.
the young bridegroom abode in the palace one hundred and one weeks.
then he began to find it too dull, and he desired to go out hunting.
the king would fain have prevented it, but in this he could not succeed.
then he begged his son-in-law at least to take sufficient escort with him, but this, too, the young man evaded, and took only his horse and his dog.
he had ridden already a long way, when he saw in the distance a hut, and rode straight towards it in order to get some water to drink.
there he found an old woman from whom he begged the water.
she answered that first he should allow her to beat his dog with her little wand, that it might not bite her while she fetched the water.
the hunter consented; and as soon as she had touched the dog with her wand it immediately turned to stone.
thereupon she touched the hunter and also his horse, and both turned to stone.
as soon as that had happened, the cypress trees in front of his father's house began to wither.
and when the other brother saw this, he immediately set out in search of his twin.
he came first to the town where his brother had slain the giant, and there fate led him to the same old woman where his brother had lodged.
when she saw him she took him for his twin brother, and said to him: "do not take it amiss of me, my son, that i did not come to wish you joy on your marriage with the king's daughter."
the stranger perceived what mistake she had made, but only said: "that does not matter, old woman," and rode on, without further speech, to the king's palace, where the king and the princess both took him for his twin brother, and called out: "why have you tarried so long away?
we thought something evil had befallen you."
when night came and he slept with the princess, who still believed him to be her husband, he laid his sword between them, and when morning came he rose early and went out to hunt.
fate led him by the same way which his brother had taken, and from a distance he saw him and knew that he was turned to stone.
then he entered the hut and ordered the old woman to disenchant his brother.
but she answered: "let me first touch your dog with my wand, and then i will free your brother."
he ordered the dog, however, to take hold of her, and bite her up to the knee, till she cried out: "tell your dog to let me go and i will set your brother free!"
but he only answered: "tell me the magic words that i may disenchant him myself;" and as she would not he ordered his dog to bite her up to the hip.
then the old woman cried out: "i have two wands, with the green one i turn to stone, and with the red one i bring to life again."
so the hunter took the red wand and disenchanted his brother, also his brother's horse, and his dog, and ordered his own dog to eat the old woman up altogether.
while the brothers went on their way back to the castle of the king, the one brother related to the other how the cypress tree had all at once dried up and withered, how he had immediately set out in search of his twin, and how he had come to the castle of his father-in-law, and had claimed the princess as his wife.
but the other brother became furious on hearing this, and smote him over the forehead till he died, and returned alone to the house of his father-in-law.
-lsb- illustration: the twin brothers the brother comes to the rescue -rsb- when night came and he was in bed the princess asked him: "what was the matter with you last night, that you never spoke a word to me?"
then he cried out: "that was not me, but my brother, and i have slain him, because he told me by the way that he had claimed you for his wife!"
"do you know the place where you slew him?"
asked the princess, "and can you find the body?'"
i know the place exactly."
"then to-morrow we shall ride thither," said the princess.
next morning accordingly they set out together, and when they had come to the place, the princess drew forth a small bottle that she had brought with her, and sprinkled the body with some drops of the water so that immediately he became alive again.
when he stood up, his brother said to him: "forgive me, dear brother, that i slew you in my anger."
then they embraced and went together to the fairest in the land, whom the unmarried brother took to wife.
then the brothers brought their parents to live with them, and all dwelt together in joy and happiness.
cannetella there was once upon a time a king who reigned over a country called "bello puojo."
he was very rich and powerful, and had everything in the world he could desire except a child.
but at last, after he had been married for many years, and was quite an old man, his wife renzolla presented him with a fine daughter, whom they called cannetella.
she grew up into a beautiful girl, and was as tall and straight as a young fir-tree.
when she was eighteen years old her father called her to him and said: "you are of an age now, my daughter, to marry and settle down; but as i love you more than anything else in the world, and desire nothing but your happiness, i am determined to leave the choice of a husband to yourself.
choose a man after your own heart, and you are sure to satisfy me."
cannetella thanked her father very much for his kindness and consideration, but told him that she had not the slightest wish to marry, and was quite determined to remain single.
the king, who felt himself growing old and feeble, and longed to see an heir to the throne before he died, was very unhappy at her words, and begged her earnestly not to disappoint him.
when cannetella saw that the king had set his heart on her marriage, she said: "very well, dear father, i will marry to please you, for i do not wish to appear ungrateful for all your love and kindness; but you must find me a husband handsomer, cleverer, and more charming than anyone else in the world."
the king was overjoyed by her words, and from early in the morning till late at night he sat at the window and looked carefully at all the passers-by, in the hopes of finding a son-in-law among them.
one day, seeing a very good-looking man crossing the street, the king called his daughter and said: "come quickly, dear cannetella, and look at this man, for i think he might suit you as a husband."
they called the young man into the palace, and set a sumptuous feast before him, with every sort of delicacy you can imagine.
in the middle of the meal the youth let an almond fall out of his mouth, which, however, he picked up again very quickly and hid under the table-cloth.
when the feast was over the stranger went away", and the king asked cannetella: "well, what did you think of the youth?'"
i think he was a clumsy wretch," replied cannetella.
"fancy a-man of his age letting an almond fall out of his mouth!"
when the king heard her answer he returned to his watch at the window, and shortly afterwards a very handsome young man passed by.
the king instantly called his daughter to come and see what she thought of the new comer.
"call him in," said cannetella, "that we may see him close."
another splendid feast was prepared, and when the stranger had eaten and drunk as much as he was able, and had taken his departure, the king asked cannetella how she liked him.
"not at all," replied his daughter; "what could you do with a man who requires at least two servants to help him on with his cloak, because he is too awkward to put it on properly himself?"
"if that's all you have against him," said the king," i see how the land lies.
you are determined not to have a husband at all; but marry someone you shall, for i do not mean my name and house to die out."
"well, then, my dear parent," said cannetella," i must tell you at once that you had better not count upon me, for i never mean to marry unless i can find a man with a gold head and gold teeth."
the king was very angry at finding his daughter so obstinate; but as he always gave the girl her own way in everything, he issued a proclamation to the effect that any man with a gold head and gold teeth might come forward and claim the princess as his bride, and the kingdom of bello puojo as a wedding gift.
now the king had a deadly enemy called scioravante, who was a very powerful magician.
no sooner had this man heard of the proclamation than he summoned his attendant spirits and commanded them to gild his head and teeth.
the spirits said, at first, that the task was beyond their powers, and suggested that a pair of golden horns attached to his forehead would both be easier to make and more comfortable to wear; but scioravante would allow no compromise, and insisted on having a head and teeth made of the finest gold.
when it was fixed on his shoulders he went for a stroll in front of the palace.
and the king, seeing the very man he was in search of, called his daughter, and said: "just look out of the window, and you will find exactly what you want."
then, as scioravante was hurrying past, the king shouted out to him: "just stop a minute, brother, and do n't be in such desperate haste.
if you will step in here you shall have my daughter for a wife, and i will send attendants with her, and as many horses and servants as you wish.'"
a thousand thanks," returned scioravante;" i shall be delighted to marry your daughter, but it is quite unnecessary to send anyone to accompany her.
give me a horse and i will carry off the princess in front of my saddle, and will bring her to my own kingdom, where there is no lack of courtiers or servants, or, indeed, of anything your daughter can desire."
at first the king was very much against cannetella's departing in this fashion; but finally scioravante got his way, and placing the princess before him on his horse, he set out for his own country.
towards evening he dismounted, and entering a stable he placed cannetella in the same stall as his horse, and said to her: "now listen to what i have to say.
i am going to my home now, and that is a seven years" journey from here; you must wait for me in this stable, and never move from the spot, or let yourself be seen by a living soul.
if you disobey my commands, it will be the worse for you."
-lsb- illustration: scioravante leaves cannetella in the stable -rsb- the princess answered meekly: "sir i am your servant, and will do exactly as you bid me; but i should like to know what i am to live on till you come back?"
"you can take what the horses leave," was scioravante's reply.
when the magician had left her cannetella felt very miserable, and bitterly cursed the day she was born.
she spent all her time weeping and bemoaning the cruel fate that had driven her from a palace into a stable, from soft, down cushions to a bed of straw, and from the dainties of her father's table to the food that the horses left.
she led this wretched life for a few months, and during that time she never saw who fed and watered the horses, for it was all done by invisible hands.
one day, when she was more than usually unhappy, she perceived a little crack in the wall, through which she could see a beautiful garden, with all manner of delicious fruits and flowers growing in it.
the sight and smell of such delicacies were too much for poor cannetella, and she said to herself," i will slip quietly out, and pick a few oranges and grapes, and i do n't care what happens.
who is there to tell my husband what i do?
and even if he should hear of my disobedience, he can not make my life more miserable than it is already."
so she slipped out and refreshed her poor, starved body with the fruit she plucked in the garden.
but a short time afterwards her husband returned unexpectedly, and one of the horses instantly told him that cannetella had gone into the garden, in his absence, and had stolen some oranges and grapes.
scioravante was furious when he heard this, and seizing a huge knife from his pocket he threatened to kill his wife for her disobedience.
but cannetella threw herself at his feet and implored him to spare her life, saying that hunger drove even the wolf from the wood.
at last she succeeded in so far softening her husband's heart that he said," i will forgive you this time, and spare your life; but if you disobey me again, and i hear, on my return, that you have as much as moved out of the stall, i will certainly kill you.
so, beware; for i am going away once more, and shall be absent for seven years."
with these words he took his departure, and cannetella burst into a flood of tears, and, wringing her hands, she moaned: "why was i ever born to such a hard fate?
oh!
father, how miserable you have made your poor daughter!
but, why should i blame my father?
for i have only myself to thank for all my sufferings.
i got the cursed head of gold, and it has brought all this misery on me.
i am indeed punished for not doing as my father wished!"
when a year had gone by, it chanced, one day, that the king's cooper passed the stables where cannetella was kept prisoner.
she recognised the man, and called him to come in.
at first he did not know the poor princess, and could not make out who it was that called him by name.
but when he heard cannetella's tale of woe, he hid her in a big empty barrel he had with him, partly because he was sorry for the poor girl, and, even more, because he wished to gain the king's favour.
then he slung the barrel on the mule's back, and in this way the princess was carried to her own home.
they arrived at the palace about four o'clock in the morning, and the cooper knocked loudly at the door.
when the servants came in haste and saw only the cooper standing at the gate, they were very indignant, and scolded him soundly for coming at such an hour and waking them all out of their sleep.
the king hearing the noise and the cause of it, sent for the cooper, for he felt certain the man must have some important business, to have come and disturbed the whole palace at such an early hour.
the cooper asked permission to unload his mule, and cannetella crept out of the barrel.
at first the king refused to believe that it was really his daughter, for she had changed so terribly in a few years, and had grown so thin and pale, that it was pitiful to see her.
at last the princess showed her father a mole she had on her right arm, and then he saw that the poor girl was indeed his long-lost cannetella.
he kissed her a thousand times, and instantly had the choicest food and drink set before her.
-lsb- illustration: cannetella comes out of the cask -rsb- after she had satisfied her hunger, the king said to her: "who would have thought, my dear daughter, to have found you in such a state?
what, may i ask, has brought you to this pass?"
cannetella replied: "that wicked man with the gold head and teeth treated me worse than a dog, and many a time, since i left you, have i longed to die.
but i could n't tell you all that i have suffered, for you would never believe me.
it is enough that i am once more with you, and i shall never leave you again, for i would rather be a slave in your house than queen in any other."
in the meantime scioravante had returned to the stables, and one of the horses told him that cannetella had been taken away by a cooper in a barrel.
when the wicked magician heard this he was beside himself with rage, and, hastening to the kingdom of bello puojo, he went straight to an old woman who lived exactly opposite the royal palace, and said to her: "if you will let me see the king's daughter", i will give you whatever reward you like to ask for."
the woman demanded a hundred ducats of gold, and scioravante counted them out of his purse and gave them to her without a murmur.
then the old woman led him to the roof of the house, where he could see cannetella combing out her long hair in a room in the top story of the palace.
the princess happened to look out of the window, and when she saw her husband gazing at her, she got such a fright that she flew downstairs to the king, and said: "my lord and father, unless you shut me up instantly in a room with seven iron doors, i am lost."
"if that's all" said the king, "it shall be done at once."
and he gave orders for the doors to be closed on the spot.
when scioravante saw this he returned to the old woman, and said: "i will give you whatever you like if you will go into the palace, hide under the princess's bed, and slip this little piece of paper beneath her pillow, saying, as you do so: "may everyone in the palace, except the princess, fall into a sound sleep.""
the old woman demanded another hundred golden ducats, and then proceeded to carry out the magician's wishes.
no sooner had she slipped the piece of paper under cannetella's pillow, than all the people in the palace fell fast asleep, and only the princess remained awake.
then scioravante hurried to the seven doors and opened them one after the other.
cannetella screamed with terror when she saw her husband, but no one came to her help, for all in the palace lay as if they were dead.
the magician seized her in the bed on which she lay, and was going to carry her off with him, when the little piece of paper which the old woman had placed under her pillow fell on the floor.
in an instant all the people in the palace woke up, and as cannetella was still screaming for help, they rushed to her rescue.
they seized scioravante and put him to death; so he was caught in the trap which he had laid for the princess -- and, as is so often the case in this world, the biter himself was bit.
-lsb- from the italian, kletke. -rsb-
the ogre there lived, once upon a time, in the land of marigliano, a poor woman called masella, who had six pretty daughters, all as upright as young fir-trees, and an only son called antonio, who was so simple as to be almost an idiot.
hardly a day passed without his mother saying to him; "what are you doing, you useless creature?
if you were n't too stupid to look after yourself, i would order you to leave the house and never to let me see your face again."
every day the youth committed some fresh piece of folly, till at last masella, losing all patience, gave him a good beating, which so startled antonio that he took to his heels and never stopped running till it was dark and the stars were shining in the heavens.
he wandered on for some time, not knowing where to go, and at last he came to a cave, at the mouth of which sat an ogre, uglier than anything you can conceive.
he had a huge head and wrinkled brow -- eyebrows that met, squinting eyes, a flat broad nose, and a great gash of a mouth from which two huge tusks stuck out.
his skin was hairy, his arms enormous, his legs like sword blades, and his feet as flat as ducks".
in short, he was the most hideous and laughable object in the world.
but antonio, who, with all his faults, was no coward, and was moreover a very civil-spoken lad, took off his hat, and said: "good-day, sir; i hope you are pretty well.
could you kindly tell me how far it is from here to the place where i wish to go?"
-lsb- illustration: antonio · is · not · afraid · of · the · ogre -rsb- when the ogre heard this extraordinary question he burst out laughing, and as he liked the youth's polite manners he said to him: "will you enter my service?"
"what wages do you give?"
replied antonio.
"if you serve me faithfully," returned the ogre, "i'll be bound you'll get enough wages to satisfy you."
so the bargain was struck, and antonio agreed to become the ogre's servant.
he was very well treated, in every way, and he had little or no work to do, with the result that in a few days he became as fat as a quail, as round as a barrel, as red as a lobster, and as impudent as a bantam-cock.
but, after two years, the lad got weary of this idle life, and longed desperately to visit his home again.
the ogre, who could see into his heart and knew how unhappy he was, said to him one day: "my dear antonio, i know how much you long to see your mother and sisters again, and because i love you as the apple of my eye, i am willing to allow you to go home for a visit.
therefore, take this donkey, so that you may not have to go on foot; but see that you never say "bricklebrit" to him, for if you do you'll be sure to regret it."
antonio took the beast without as much as saying thank you, and jumping on its back he rode away in great haste; but he had n't gone two hundred yards when he dismounted and called out "bricklebrit."
no sooner had he pronounced the word than the donkey opened its mouth and poured forth rubies, emeralds, diamonds and pearls, as big as walnuts.
antonio gazed in amazement at the sight of such wealth, and joyfully filling a huge sack with the precious stones, he mounted the donkey again and rode on till he came to an inn.
here he got down, and going straight to the landlord, he said to him: "my good man, i must ask you to stable this donkey for me.
be sure you give the poor beast plenty of oats and hay, but beware of saying the word "bricklebrit" to him, for if you do i can promise you will regret it.
take this heavy sack, too, and put it carefully away for me."
the landlord, who was no fool, on receiving this strange warning, and seeing the precious stones sparkling through the canvas of the sack, was most anxious to see what would happen if he used the forbidden word.
so he gave antonio an excellent dinner, with a bottle of fine old wine, and prepared a comfortable bed for him.
as soon as he saw the poor simpleton close his eyes and had heard his lusty snores, he hurried to the stables and said to the donkey "bricklebrit," and the animal as usual poured out any number of precious stones.
when the landlord saw all these treasures he longed to get possession of so valuable an animal, and determined to steal the donkey from his foolish guest.
as soon as it was light next morning antonio awoke, and having rubbed his eyes and stretched himself about a hundred times he called the landlord and said to him: "come here, my friend, and produce your bill, for short reckonings make long friends."
when antonio had paid his account he went to the stables and took out his donkey, as he thought, and fastening a sack of gravel, which the landlord had substituted for his precious stones, on the creature's back, he set out for his home.
no sooner had he arrived there than he called out: "mother, come quickly, and bring table-cloths and sheets with you, and spread them out on the ground, and you will soon see what wonderful treasures i have brought you."
his mother hurried into the house, and opening the linen-chest where she kept her daughters" wedding outfits, she took out table-cloths and sheets made of the finest linen, and spread them flat and smooth on the ground.
antonio placed the donkey on them, and called out "bricklebrit."
but this time he met with no success, for the donkey took no more notice of the magic word than he would have done if a lyre had been twanged in his ear.
two, three, and four times did antonio pronounce "bricklebrit," but all in vain, and he might as well have spoken to the wind.
disgusted and furious with the poor creature, he seized a thick stick and began to beat it so hard that he nearly broke every bone in its body.
the miserable donkey was so distracted at such treatment that, far from pouring out precious stones, it only tore and dirtied all the fine linen.
when poor masella saw her table-cloths and sheets being destroyed, and that instead of becoming rich she had only been made a fool of, she seized another stick and belaboured antonio so unmercifully with it, that he fled before her, and never stopped till he reached the ogre's cave.
when his master saw the lad returning in such a sorry plight, he understood at once what had happened to him, and making no bones about the matter, he told antonio what a fool he had been to allow himself to be so imposed upon by the landlord, and to let a worthless animal be palmed off on him instead of his magic donkey.
antonio listened humbly to the ogre's words, and vowed solemnly that he would never act so foolishly again.
and so a year passed, and once more antonio was overcome by a fit of home-sickness, and felt a great longing to see his own people again.
now the ogre, although he was so hideous to look upon, had a very kind heart, and when he saw how restless and unhappy antonio was, he at once gave him leave to go home on a visit.
at parting he gave him a beautiful table-cloth, and said: "give this to your mother; but see that you do n't lose it as you lost the donkey, and till you are safely in your own house beware of saying "table-cloth, open," and "table-cloth, shut."
if you do, the misfortune be on your own head, for i have given you fair warning."
antonio set out on his journey, but hardly had he got out of sight of the cave than he laid the table-cloth on the ground and said, "table-cloth, open."
in an instant the table-cloth unfolded itself and disclosed a whole mass of precious stones and other treasures.
when antonio perceived this he said, "table-cloth, shut," and continued his journey.
he came to the same inn again, and calling the landlord to him, he told him to put the table-cloth carefully away, and whatever he did not to say "table-cloth, open," or "table-cloth, shut," to it.
the landlord, who was a regular rogue, answered, "just leave it to me, i will look after it as if it were my own."
after he had given antonio plenty to eat and drink, and had provided him with a comfortable bed, he went straight to the table-cloth and said, "table-cloth, open."
it opened at once, and displayed such costly treasures that the landlord made up his mind on the spot to steal it.
when antonio awoke next morning, the host handed him over a table-cloth exactly like his own, and carrying it carefully over his arm, the foolish youth went straight to his mother's house, and said: "now we shall be rich beyond the dreams of avarice, and need never go about in rags again, or lack the best of food."
with these words he spread the table-cloth on the ground and said, "table-cloth, open."
but he might repeat the injunction as often as he pleased, it was only waste of breath, for nothing happened.
when antonio saw this he turned to his mother and said: "that old scoundrel of a landlord has done me once more; but he will live to repent it, for if i ever enter his inn again, i will make him suffer for the loss of my donkey and the other treasures he has robbed me of."
masella was in such a rage over her fresh disappointment that she could not restrain her impatience, and, turning on antonio, she abused him soundly, and told him to get out of her sight at once, for she would never acknowledge him as a son of hers again.
the poor boy was very depressed by her words, and slunk back to his master like a dog with his tail between his legs.
when the ogre saw him, he guessed at once what had happened.
he gave antonio a good scolding, and said," i do n't know what prevents me smashing your head in, you useless ne'er - do-well!
you blurt everything out, and your long tongue never ceases wagging for a moment.
if you had remained silent in the inn this misfortune would never have overtaken you, so you have only yourself to blame for your present suffering."
antonio listened to his master's words in silence, looking for all the world like a whipped dog.
when he had been three more years in the ogre's service he had another bad fit of home-sickness, and longed very much to see his mother and sisters again.
so he asked for permission to go home on a visit, and it was at once granted to him.
before he set out on his journey the ogre presented him with a beautifully carved stick and said, "take this stick as a remembrance of me; but beware of saying, "rise up, stick," and "lie down, stick," for if you do, i can only say i would n't be in your shoes for something."
antonio took the stick and said, "do n't be in the least alarmed, i'm not such a fool as you think, and know better than most people what two and two make."
"i'm glad to hear it," replied the ogre, "but words are women, deeds are men.
you have heard what i said, and forewarned is forearmed."
this time antonio thanked his master warmly for all his kindness, and started on his homeward journey in great spirits; but he had not gone half a mile when he said "rise up, stick."
the words were hardly out of his mouth when the stick rose and began to rain down blows on poor antonio's back with such lightning-like rapidity that he had hardly strength to call out, "lie down, stick"; but as soon as he uttered the words the stick lay down, and ceased beating his back black and blue.
although he had learnt a lesson at some cost to himself, antonio was full of joy, for he saw a way now of revenging himself on the wicked landlord.
once more he arrived at the inn, and was received in the most friendly and hospitable manner by his host.
antonio greeted him cordially, and said: "my friend, will you kindly take care of this stick for me?
but, whatever you do, do n't say "rise up, stick."
if you do, you will be sorry for it, and you need n't expect any sympathy from me."
the landlord, thinking he was coming in for a third piece of good fortune, gave antonio an excellent supper; and after he had seen him comfortably to bed, he ran to the stick, and calling to his wife to come and see the fun, he lost no time in pronouncing the words "rise up, stick."
the moment he spoke the stick jumped up and beat the landlord so unmercifully that he and his wife ran screaming to antonio, and, waking him up, pleaded for mercy.
when antonio saw how successful his trick had been he said: "i refuse to help you, unless you give me all that you have stolen from me, otherwise you will be beaten to death."
the landlord, who felt himself at death's door already, cried out: "take back your property, only release me from this terrible stick;" and with these words he ordered the donkey, the table-cloth, and other treasures to be restored to their rightful owner.
as soon as antonio had recovered his belongings he said "stick, lie down," and it stopped beating the landlord at once.
then he took his donkey and table-cloth and arrived safely at his home with them.
this time the magic words had the desired effect, and the donkey and table-cloth provided the family with treasures untold.
antonio very soon married off his sister, made his mother rich for life, and they all lived happily for ever after.
-lsb- from the italian, kletke. -rsb-
a fairy's blunder once upon a time there lived a fairy whose name was dindonette.
she was the best creature in the world, with the kindest heart; but she had not much sense, and was always doing things, to benefit people, which generally ended in causing pain and distress to everybody concerned.
no one knew this better than the inhabitants of an island far off in the midst of the sea, which, according to the laws of fairyland, she had taken under her special protection, thinking day and night of what she could do to make the isle the pleasantest place in the whole world, as it was the most beautiful.
now what happened was this: as the fairy went about, unseen, from house to house, she heard everywhere children longing for the time when they would be "grown-up," and able, they thought, to do as they liked; and old people talking about the past, and sighing to be young again.
"is there no way of satisfying these poor things?"
she thought.
and then one night an idea occurred to her.
"oh, yes, of course!
it has been tried before; but i will manage better than the rest, with their old fountain of youth, which, after all, only made people young again.
i will enchant the spring that bubbles up in the middle of the orchard, and the children that drink of it shall at once become grown men and women, and the old people return to the days of their childhood."
and without stopping to consult one single other fairy, who might have given her good advice, off rushed dindonette, to cast her spell over the fountain.
it was the only spring of fresh water in the island, and at dawn was crowded with people of all ages, come to drink at its source.
delighted at her plan for making them all happy, the fairy hid herself behind a thicket of roses, and peeped out whenever footsteps came that way.
it was not long before she had ample proof of the success of her enchantments.
almost before her eyes the children put on the size and strength of adults, while the old men and women instantly became helpless, tiny babies.
indeed, so pleased was she with the result of her work, that she could no longer remain hidden, and went about telling everybody what she had done, and enjoying their gratitude and thanks.
but after the first outburst of delight at their wishes being granted, people began to be a little frightened at the rapid effects of the magic water.
it was delicious to feel yourself at the height of your power and beauty, but you would wish to keep so always!
now this was exactly what the fairy had been in too much of a hurry to arrange, and no sooner had the children become grown up, and the men and women become babies, than they all rushed on to old age at an appalling rate!
the fairy only found out her mistake when it was too late to set it right.
when the inhabitants of the island saw what had befallen them, they were filled with despair, and did everything they could think of to escape from such a dreadful fate.
they dug wells in their places, so that they should no longer need to drink from the magic spring; but the sandy soil yielded no water, and the rainy season was already past.
they stored up the dew that fell, and the juice of fruits and of herbs, but all this was as a drop in the ocean of their wants.
some threw themselves into the sea, trusting that the current might carry them to other shores -- they had no boats -- and a few, still more impatient, put themselves to death on the spot.
the rest submitted blindly to their destiny.
perhaps the worst part of the enchantment was, that the change from one age to another was so rapid that the person had no time to prepare himself for it.
it would not have mattered so much if the man who stood up in the assembly of the nation, to give his advice as to peace or war, had looked like a baby, as long as he spoke with the knowledge and sense of a full-grown man.
but, alas!
with the outward form of an infant, he had taken on its helplessness and foolishness, and there was no one who could train him to better things.
the end of it all was, that before a month had passed the population had died out, and the fairy dindonette, ashamed and grieved at the effects of her folly, had left the island for ever.
many centuries after, the fairy selnozoura, who had fallen into bad health, was ordered by her doctors to make the tour of the world twice a week for change of air, and in one of these journeys she found herself at fountain island.
selnozoura never made these trips alone, but always took with her two children, of whom she was very fond -- cornichon, a boy of fourteen, bought in his childhood at a slave-market, and toupette, a few months younger, who had been entrusted to the care of the fairy by her guardian, the genius kristopo.
cornichon and toupette were intended by selnozoura to become husband and wife, as soon as they were old enough.
meanwhile, they travelled with her in a little vessel, whose speed through the air was just a thousand nine hundred and fifty times greater than that of the swiftest of our ships.
struck with the beauty of the island, selnozoura ran the vessel to ground, and leaving it in the care of the dragon which lived in the hold during the voyage, stepped on shore with her two companions.
surprised at the sight of a large town whose streets and houses were absolutely desolate, the fairy resolved to put her magic arts in practice to find out the cause.
while she was thus engaged, cornichon and toupette wandered away by themselves, and by-and-by arrived at the fountain, whose bubbling waters looked cool and delicious on such a hot day.
scarcely had they each drunk a deep draught, when the fairy, who by this time had discovered all she wished to know, hastened to the spot.
"oh, beware!
beware!"
she cried, the moment she saw them.
"if you drink that deadly poison you will be ruined for ever!"
"poison?"
answered toupette.
"it is the most refreshing water i have ever tasted, and cornichon will say so too!"
"unhappy children, then i am too late!
why did you leave me?
listen, and i will tell you what has befallen the wretched inhabitants of this island, and what will befall you too.
the power of fairies is great," she added, when she had finished her story, "but they can not destroy the work of another fairy.
very shortly you will pass into the weakness and silliness of extreme old age, and all i can do for you is to make it as easy to you as possible, and to preserve you from the death that others have suffered, from having no one to look after them.
but the charm is working already!
cornichon is taller and more manly than he was an hour ago, and toupette no longer looks like a little girl."
it was true; but this fact did not seem to render the young people as miserable as it did selnozoura.
"do not pity us," said cornichon.
"if we are fated to grow old so soon, let us no longer delay our marriage.
what matter if we anticipate our decay, if we only anticipate our happiness too?"
the fairy felt that cornichon had reason on his side, and seeing by a glance at toupette's face that there was no opposition to be feared from her, she answered, "let it be so, then.
but not in this dreadful place.
we will return at once to bagota, and the festivities shall be the most brilliant ever seen."
they all returned to the vessel, and in a few hours the four thousand five hundred miles that lay between the island and bagota were passed.
everyone was surprised to see the change which the short absence had made in the young people, but as the fairy had promised absolute silence about the adventure, they were none the wiser, and busied themselves in preparing their dresses for the marriage, which was fixed for the next night.
early on the following morning the genius kristopo arrived at the court, on one of the visits he was in the habit of paying his ward from time to time.
like the rest, he was astonished at the sudden improvement in the child.
he had always been fond of her, and in a moment he fell violently in love.
hastily demanding an audience of the fairy, he laid his proposals before her, never doubting that she would give her consent to so brilliant a match.
but selnozoura refused to listen, and even hinted that in his own interest kristopo had better turn his thoughts elsewhere.
the genius pretended to agree, but, instead, he went straight to toupette's room, and flew away with her through the window, at the very instant that the bridegroom was awaiting her below.
when the fairy discovered what had happened, she was furious, and sent messenger after messenger to the genius in his palace at ratibouf, commanding him to restore toupette without delay, and threatening to make war in case of refusal.
kristopo gave no direct answer to the fairy's envoys, but kept toupette closely guarded in a tower, where the poor girl used all her powers of persuasion to induce him to put off their marriage.
all would, however, have been quite in vain if, in the course of a few days, sorrow, joined to the spell of the magic water, had not altered her appearance so completely that kristopo was quite alarmed, and declared that she needed amusement and fresh air, and that, as his presence seemed to distress her, she should be left her own mistress.
but one thing he declined to do, and that was to send her back to bagota.
in the meantime both sides had been busily collecting armies, and kristopo had given the command of his to a famous general, while selnozoura had placed cornichon at the head of her forces.
but before war was actually declared, toupette's parents, who had been summoned by the genius, arrived at ratibouf.
they had never seen their daughter since they parted from her as a baby, but from time to time travellers to bagota had brought back accounts of her beauty.
what was their amazement, therefore, at finding, instead of a lovely girl, a middle-aged woman, handsome indeed, but quite faded -- looking, in fact, older than themselves.
kristopo, hardly less astonished than they were at the sudden change, thought that it was a joke on the part of one of his courtiers, who had hidden toupette away, and put this elderly lady in her place.
bursting with rage, he sent instantly for all the servants and guards of the town, and inquired who had the insolence to play him such a trick, and what had become of their prisoner.
they replied that since toupette had been in their charge she had never left her rooms unveiled, and that during her walks in the surrounding gardens, her food had been brought in and placed on her table; as she preferred to eat alone no one had ever seen her face, or knew what she was like.
the servants were clearly speaking the truth, and kristopo was obliged to believe them.
"but," thought he, "if they have not had a hand in this, it must be the work of the fairy," and in his anger he ordered the army to be ready to march.
on her side, selnozoura of course knew what the genius had to expect, but was deeply offended when she heard of the base trick which she was believed to have invented.
her first desire was to give battle to kristopo at once, but with great difficulty her ministers induced her to pause, and to send an ambassador to kristopo to try to arrange matters.
so the prince zeprady departed for the court of ratibouf, and on his way he met cornichon, who was encamped with his army just outside the gates of bagota.
the prince showed him the fairy's written order that for the present peace must still be kept, and cornichon, filled with longing to see toupette once more, begged to be allowed to accompany zeprady on his mission to ratibouf.
by this time the genius's passion for toupette, which had caused all these troubles, had died out, and he willingly accepted the terms of peace offered by zeprady, though he informed the prince that he still believed the fairy to be guilty of the dreadful change in the girl.
to this the prince only replied that on that point he had a witness who could prove, better than anyone else, if it was toupette or not, and desired that cornichon should be sent for.
when toupette was told that she was to see her old lover again, her heart leapt with joy; but soon the recollection came to her of all that had happened, and she remembered that cornichon would be changed as well as she.
the moment of their meeting was not all happiness, especially on the part of toupette, who could not forget her lost beauty, and the genius, who was present, was at last convinced that he had not been deceived, and went out to sign the treaty of peace, followed by his attendants.
"ah, toupette: my dear toupette!"
cried cornichon, as soon as they were left alone; "now that we are once more united, let our past troubles be forgotten."
"our past troubles!"
answered she, "and what do you call our lost beauty and the dreadful future before us?
you are looking fifty years older than when i saw you last, and i know too well that fate has treated me no better!"
"ah, do not say that," replied cornichon, clasping her hand, "you are different, it is true; but every age has its graces, and surely no woman of sixty was ever handsomer than you!
if your eyes had been as bright as of yore they would have matched badly with your faded skin.
the wrinkles which i notice on your forehead explain the increased fulness of your cheeks, and your throat in withering is elegant in decay.
thus the harmony shown by your features, even as they grow old, is the best proof of their former beauty.
"oh, monster," cried toupette, bursting into tears, "is that all the comfort you can give me?"
"but, toupette," answered cornichon; "you used to declare that you did not care for beauty, as long as you had my heart."
"yes, i know," said she, "but how can you go on caring for a person who is as old and plain as i?"
"toupette, toupette," replied cornichon, "you are only talking nonsense.
my heart is as much yours as ever it was, and nothing in the world can make any difference."
at this point of the conversation the prince zeprady entered the room, with the news that the genius, full of regret for his behaviour, had given cornichon full permission to depart for bagota as soon as he liked, and to take toupette with him; adding that, though he begged they would excuse his taking leave of them before they went, he hoped, before long, to visit them at bagota.
neither of the lovers slept that night -- cornichon from joy at returning home, toupette from dread of the blow to her vanity which awaited her at bagota.
it was hopeless for cornichon to try to console her during the journey with the reasons he had given the day before.
she only grew worse and worse, and when they reached the palace went straight to her old apartments, entreating the fairy to allow both herself and cornichon to remain concealed, and to see no one.
for some time after their arrival the fairy was taken up with the preparations for the rejoicings which were to celebrate the peace, and with the reception of the genius, who was determined to do all in his power to regain selnozoura's lost friendship.
cornichon and toupette were therefore left entirely to themselves, and though this was only what they wanted, still, they began to feel a little neglected.
at length, one morning, they saw from the windows that the fairy and the genius were approaching, in state, with all their courtiers in attendance.
toupette instantly hid herself in the darkest corner of the room, but cornichon, forgetting that he was now no longer a boy of fourteen, ran to meet them.
in so doing he tripped and fell, bruising one of his eyes severely.
at the sight of her lover lying helpless on the floor, toupette hastened to his side; but her feeble legs gave way under her, and she fell almost on top of him, knocking out three of her loosened teeth against his forehead.
the fairy, who entered the room at this moment, burst into tears, and listened in silence to the genius, who hinted that by-and-by everything would be put right.
"at the last assembly of the fairies," he said, "when the doings of each fairy were examined and discussed, a proposal was made to lessen, as far as possible, the mischief caused by dindonette by enchanting the fountain.
and it was decided that, as she had meant nothing but kindness, she should have the power of undoing one half of the spell.
of course she might always have destroyed the fatal fountain, which would have been best of all; but this she never thought of.
yet, in spite of this, her heart is so good, that i am sure that the moment she hears that she is wanted she will fly to help.
only, before she comes, it is for you, madam, to make up your mind which of the two shall regain their former strength and beauty."
at these words the fairy's soul sank.
both cornichon and toupette were equally dear to her, and how could she favour one at the cost of the other?
as to the courtiers, none of the men were able to understand why she hesitated a second to declare for toupette; while the ladies were equally strong on the side of cornichon.
but, however undecided the fairy might be, it was quite different with cornichon and toupette.
"ah, my love," exclaimed cornichon, "at length i shall be able to give you the best proof of my devotion by showing you how i value the beauties of your mind above those of your body!
while the most charming women of the court will fall victims to my youth and strength, i shall think of nothing but how to lay them at your feet, and pay heart-felt homage to your age and wrinkles."
"not so fast," interrupted toupette," i do n't see why you should have it all.
why do you heap such humiliations upon me?
but i will trust to the justice of the fairy, who will not treat me so."
then she entered her own rooms, and refused to leave them, in spite of the prayers of cornichon, who begged her to let him explain.
no one at the court thought or spoke of any other subject during the few days before the arrival of dindonette, whom everybody expected to set things right in a moment.
but, alas!
she had no idea herself what was best to be done, and always adopted the opinion of the person she was talking to.
at length a thought struck her, which seemed the only way of satisfying both parties, and she asked the fairy to call together all the court and the people to hear her decision.
"happy is he," she began, "who can repair the evil he has caused, but happier he who has never caused any."
as nobody contradicted this remark, she continued: "to me it is only allowed to undo one half of the mischief i have wrought.
i could restore you your youth," she said to cornichon, "or your beauty," turning to toupette."
i will do both; and i will do neither."
a murmur of curiosity arose from the crowd, while cornichon and toupette trembled with astonishment.
"no," went on dindonette, "never should i have the cruelty to leave one of you to decay, while the other enjoys the glory of youth.
and as i can not restore you both at once to what you were, one half of each of your bodies shall become young again, while the other half goes on its way to decay.
i will leave it to you to choose which half it shall be -- if i shall draw a line round the waist, or a line straight down the middle of the body."
she looked about her proudly, expecting applause for her clever idea.
but cornichon and toupette were shaking with rage and disappointment, and everyone else broke into shouts of laughter.
in pity for the unhappy lovers, selnozoura came forward.
"do you not think," she said, "that instead of what you propose, it would be better to let them take it in turns to enjoy their former youth and beauty for a fixed time?
i am sure you could easily manage that."
"what an excellent notion!"
cried dindonette.
"oh, yes, of course that is best!
which of you shall i touch first?"
"touch her," replied cornichon, who was always ready to give way to toupette."
i know her heart too well to fear any change."
so the fairy bent forward and touched her with her magic ring, and in one instant the old woman was a girl again.
the whole court wept with joy at the sight, and toupette ran up to cornichon, who had fallen down in his surprise, promising to pay him long visits, and tell him of all her balls and water parties.
the two fairies went to their own apartments, where the genius followed them to take his leave.
"oh, dear!"
suddenly cried dindonette, breaking in to the farewell speech of the genius."
i quite forgot to fix the time when cornichon should in his turn grow young.
how stupid of me!
and now i fear it is too late, for i ought to have declared it before i touched toupette with the ring.
oh, dear!
oh, dear!
why did nobody warn me?"
"you were so quick," replied selnozoura, who had long been aware of the mischief the fairy had again done, "and we can only wait now till cornichon shall have reached the utmost limits of his decay, when he will drink of the water, and become a baby once more, so that toupette will have to spend her life as a nurse, a wife, and a caretaker."
after the anxiety of mind and the weakness of body to which for so long toupette had been a prey, it seemed as if she could not amuse herself enough, and it was seldom indeed that she found time to visit poor cornichon, though she did not cease to be fond of him, or to be kind to him.
still, she was perfectly happy without him, and this the poor man did not fail to see, almost blind and deaf from age though he was.
but it was left to kristopo to undo at last the work of dindonette, and give cornichon back the youth he had lost, and this the genius did all the more gladly, as he discovered, quite by accident, that cornichon was in fact his son.
it was on this plea that he attended the great yearly meeting of the fairies, and prayed that, in consideration of his services to so many of the members, this one boon might be granted him.
such a request had never before been heard in fairyland, and was objected to by some of the older fairies; but both kristopo and selnozoura were held in such high honour that the murmurs of disgust were set aside, and the latest victim to the enchanted fountain was pronounced to be free of the spell.
all that the genius asked in return was that he might accompany the fairy back to bagota, and be present when his son assumed his proper shape.
they made up their minds they would just tell toupette that they had found a husband for her, and give her a pleasant surprise at her wedding, which was fixed for the following night.
she heard the news with astonishment, and many pangs for the grief which cornichon would certainly feel at his place being taken by another; but she did not dream of disobeying the fairy, and spent the whole day wondering who the bridegroom could be.
at the appointed hour, a large crowd assembled at the fairy's palace, which was decorated with the sweetest flowers, known only to fairyland.
toupette had taken her place, but where was the bridegroom?
"fetch cornichon!"
said the fairy to her chamberlain.
but toupette interposed: "oh, madam, spare him, i entreat you, this bitter pain, and let him remain hidden and in peace."
"it is necessary that he should be here," answered the fairy, "and he will not regret it."
and, as she spoke, cornichon was led in, smiling with the foolishness of extreme old age at the sight of the gay crowd.
"bring him here," commanded the fairy, waving her hand towards toupette, who started back from surprise and horror.
selnozoura then took the hand of the poor old man, and the genius came forward and touched him three times with his ring, when cornichon was transformed into a handsome young man.
"may you live long," the genius said, "to enjoy happiness with your wife, and to love your father."
and that was the end of the mischief wrought by the fairy dindonette!
-lsb- cabinet des fées. -rsb-
long, broad, and quickeye -lrb- bohemian story -rrb- once upon a time there lived a king who had an only son whom he loved dearly.
now one day the king sent for his son and said to him: "my dearest child, my hair is grey and i am old, and soon i shall feel no more the warmth of the sun, or look upon the trees and flowers.
but before i die i should like to see you with a good wife; therefore marry, my son, as speedily as possible."
"my father," replied the prince, "now and always, i ask nothing better than to do your bidding, but i know of no daughter-in-law that i could give you."
on hearing these words the old king drew from his pocket a key of gold, and gave it to his son, saying: "go up the staircase, right up to the top of the tower.
look carefully round you, and then come and tell me which you like best of all that you see."
so the young man went up.
he had never before been in the tower, and had no idea what it might contain.
the staircase wound round and round and round, till the prince was almost giddy, and every now and then he caught sight of a large room that opened out from the side.
but he had been told to go to the top, and to the top he went.
then he found himself in a hall, which had an iron door at one end.
this door he unlocked with his golden key, and he passed through into a vast chamber which had a roof of blue sprinkled with golden stars, and a carpet of green silk soft as turf.
twelve windows framed in gold let in the light of the sun, and on every window was painted the figure of a young girl, each more beautiful than the last.
while the prince gazed at them in surprise, not knowing which he liked best, the girls began to lift their eyes and smile at him.
he waited, expecting them to speak, but no sound came.
suddenly he noticed that one of the windows was covered by a curtain of white silk.
he lifted it, and saw before him the image of a maiden beautiful as the day and sad as the tomb, clothed in a white robe, having a girdle of silver and a crown of pearls.
the prince stood and gazed at her, as if he had been turned into stone, but as he looked the sadness which was on her face seemed to pass into his heart, and he cried out: "this one shall be my wife.
this one and no other."
-lsb- illustration: the sadness of her face seemed to pass into his heart. -rsb-
as he said the words the young girl blushed and hung her head, and all the other figures vanished.
the young prince went quickly back to his father, and told him all he had seen and which wife he had chosen.
the old man listened to him full of sorrow, and then he spoke: "you have done ill, my son, to search out that which was hidden, and you are running to meet a great danger.
this young girl has fallen into the power of a wicked sorcerer, who lives in an iron castle.
many young men have tried to deliver her, and none have ever come back.
but what is done is done!
you have given your word, and it can not be broken.
go, dare your fate, and return to me safe and sound."
so the prince embraced his father, mounted his horse, and set forth to seek his bride.
he rode on gaily for several hours, till he found himself in a wood where he had never been before, and soon lost his way among its winding paths and deep valleys.
he tried in vain to see where he was: the thick trees shut out the sun, and he could not tell which was north and which was south, so that he might know what direction to make for.
he felt in despair, and had quite given up all hope of getting out of this horrible place, when he heard a voice calling to him.
"hey!
hey!
stop a minute!"
the prince turned round and saw behind him a very tall man, running as fast as his legs would carry him.
"wait for me," he panted, "and take me into your service.
if you do, you will never be sorry."
"who are you?"
asked the prince, "and what can you do?"
"long is my name, and i can lengthen my body at will.
do you see that nest up there on the top of that pine-tree?
well, i can get it for you without taking the trouble of climbing the tree," and long stretched himself up and up and up, till he was very soon as tall as the pine itself.
he put the nest in his pocket, and before you could wink your eyelid he had made himself small again, and stood before the prince.
"yes; you know your business," said he, "but birds" nests are no use to me.
i am too old for them.
now if you were only able to get me out of this wood, you would indeed be good for something."
"oh, there's no difficulty about that," replied long, and he stretched himself up and up and up till he was three times as tall as the tallest tree in the forest.
then he looked all round and said, "we must go in this direction in order to get out of the wood," and shortening himself again, he took the prince's horse by the bridle, and led him along.
very soon they got clear of the forest, and saw before them a wide plain ending in a pile of high rocks, covered here and there with trees, and very much like the fortifications of a town.
as they left the wood behind long turned to the prince and said, "my lord, here comes my comrade.
you should take him into your service too, as you will find him a great help."
"well, call him then, so that i can see what sort of a man he is."
"he is a little too far off for that," replied long.
"he would hardly hear my voice, and he could n't be here for some time yet, as he has so much to carry.
i think i had better go and bring him myself," and this time he stretched himself to such a height that his head was lost in the clouds.
he made two or three strides, took his friend on his back, and set him down before the prince.
the new-comer was a very fat man, and as round as a barrel.
"who are you?"
asked the prince, "and what can you do?"
"your worship, broad is my name, and i can make myself as wide as i please."
"let me see how you manage it."
"run, my lord, as fast as you can, and hide yourself in the wood," cried broad, and he began to swell himself out.
-lsb- illustration: broad puffs himself out -rsb- the prince did not understand why he should run to the wood, but when he saw long flying towards it, he thought he had better follow his example.
he was only just in time, for broad had so suddenly inflated himself that he very nearly knocked over the prince and his horse too.
he covered all the space for acres round.
you would have thought he was a mountain!
at length broad ceased to expand, drew a deep breath that made the whole forest tremble, and shrank into his usual size.
"you have made me run away," said the prince.
"but it is not every day one meets with a man of your sort.
i will take you into my service."
so the three companions continued their journey, and when they were drawing near the rocks they met a man whose eyes were covered by a bandage.
"your excellency," said long, "this is our third comrade.
you will do well to take him into your service, and, i assure you, you will find him worth his salt."
"who are you?"
asked the prince.
"and why are your eyes bandaged?
you can never see your way!"
"it is just the contrary, my lord!
it is because i see only too well that i am forced to bandage my eyes.
even so i see as well as people who have no bandage.
when i take it off my eyes pierce through everything.
everything i look at catches fire, or, if it can not catch fire, it falls into a thousand pieces.
they call me quickeye."
and so saying he took off his bandage and turned towards the rock.
as he fixed his eyes upon it a crack was heard, and in a few moments it was nothing but a heap of sand.
in the sand something might be detected glittering brightly.
quickeye picked it up and brought it to the prince.
it turned out to be a lump of pure gold.
"you are a wonderful creature," said the prince, "and i should be a fool not to take you into my service.
but since your eyes are so good, tell me if i am very far from the iron castle, and what is happening there just now."
"if you were travelling alone," replied quickeye, "it would take you at least a year to get to it; but as we are with you, we shall arrive there to-night.
just now they are preparing supper."
"there is a princess in the castle.
do you see her?'"
a wizard keeps her in a high tower, guarded by iron bars."
"ah, help me to deliver her!"
cried the prince.
and they promised they would.
then they all set out through the grey rocks, by the breach made by the eyes of quickeye, and passed over great mountains and through deep woods.
and every time they met with any obstacle the three friends contrived somehow to put it aside.
as the sun was setting, the prince beheld the towers of the iron castle, and before it sank beneath the horizon he was crossing the iron bridge which led to the gates.
he was only just in time, for no sooner had the sun disappeared altogether, than the bridge drew itself up and the gates shut themselves.
there was no turning back now!
the prince put up his horse in the stable, where everything looked as if a guest was expected, and then the whole party marched straight up to the castle.
in the court, in the stables, and all over the great halls, they saw a number of men richly dressed, but every one turned into stone.
they crossed an endless set of rooms, all opening into each other, till they reached the dining-hall.
it was brilliantly lighted; the table was covered with wine and fruit, and was laid for four.
they waited a few minutes expecting some one to come, but as nobody did, they sat down and began to eat and drink, for they were very hungry.
when they had done their supper they looked about for some place to sleep.
but suddenly the door burst open, and the wizard entered the hall.
he was old and hump-backed, with a bald head and a grey beard that fell to his knees.
he wore a black robe, and instead of a belt three iron circlets clasped his waist.
he led by the hand a lady of wonderful beauty, dressed in white, with a girdle of silver and a crown of pearls, but her face was pale and sad as death itself.
the prince knew her in an instant, and moved eagerly forward; but the wizard gave him no time to speak, and said: "i know why you are here.
very good; you may have her if for three nights following you can prevent her making her escape.
if you fail in this, you and your servants will all be turned into stone, like those who have come before you."
and offering the princess a chair, he left the hall.
the prince could not take his eyes from the princess, she was so lovely!
he began to talk to her, but she neither answered nor smiled, and sat as if she were made of marble.
he seated himself by her, and determined not to close his eyes that night, for fear she should escape him.
and in order that she should be doubly guarded, long stretched himself like a strap all round the room, broad took his stand by the door and puffed himself out, so that not even a mouse could slip by, and quickeye leant against a pillar which stood in the middle of the floor and supported the roof.
but in half a second they were all sound asleep, and they slept sound the whole night long.
in the morning, at the first peep of dawn, the prince awoke with a start.
but the princess was gone.
he aroused his servants and implored them to tell him what he must do.
"calm yourself, my lord," said quickeye."
i have found her already.
a hundred miles from here there is a forest.
in the middle of the forest, an old oak, and on the top of the oak, an acorn.
this acorn is the princess.
if long will take me on his shoulders, we shall soon bring her back."
and sure enough, in less time than it takes to walk round the cottage, they had returned from the forest, and long presented the acorn to the prince.
"now, your excellency, throw it on the ground."
the prince obeyed, and was enchanted to see the princess appear at his side.
but when the sun peeped for the first time over the mountains, the door burst open as before, and the wizard entered with a loud laugh.
suddenly he caught sight of the princess; his face darkened, he uttered a low growl, and one of the iron circlets gave way with a crash.
he seized the young girl by the hand and bore her away with him.
all that day the prince wandered about the castle, studying the curious treasures it contained, but everything looked as if life had suddenly come to a standstill.
in one place he saw a prince who had been turned into stone in the act of brandishing a sword round which his two hands were clasped.
in another, the same doom had fallen upon a knight in the act of running away.
in a third, a serving man was standing eternally trying to convey a piece of beef to his mouth, and all around them were others, still preserving for evermore the attitudes they were in when the wizard had commanded "from henceforth be turned into marble."
in the castle, and round the castle, all was dismal and desolate.
trees there were, but without leaves; fields there were, but no grass grew on them.
there was one river, but it never flowed and no fish lived in it.
no flowers blossomed, and no birds sang.
three times during the day food appeared, as if by magic, for the prince and his servants.
and it was not until supper was ended that the wizard appeared, as on the previous evening, and delivered the princess into the care of the prince.
all four determined that this time they would keep awake at any cost.
but it was no use.
off they went as they had done before, and when the prince awoke the next morning the room was again empty.
with a pang of shame, he rushed to find quickeye.
"awake!
awake!
quickeye!
do you know what has become of the princess?"
quickeye rubbed his eyes and answered: "yes, i see her.
two hundred miles from here there is a mountain.
in this mountain is a rock.
in the rock, a precious stone.
this stone is the princess.
long shall take me there, and we will be back before you can turn round."
so long took him on his shoulders and they set out.
at every stride they covered twenty miles, and as they drew near quickeye fixed his burning eyes on the mountain; in an instant it split into a thousand pieces, and in one of these sparkled the precious stone.
they picked it up and brought it to the prince, who flung it hastily down, and as the stone touched the floor the princess stood before him.
when the wizard came, his eyes shot forth flames of fury.
cric-crac was heard, and another of his iron bands broke and fell.
he seized the princess by the hand and led her off, growling louder than ever.
all that day things went on exactly as they had done the day before.
after supper the wizard brought back the princess, and looking him straight in the eyes he said, "we shall see which of us two will gain the prize after all!"
that night they struggled their very hardest to keep awake, and even walked about instead of sitting down.
but it was quite useless.
one after another they had to give in, and for the third time the princess slipped through their fingers.
when morning came, it was as usual the prince who awoke the first, and as usual, the princess being gone, he rushed to quickeye.
-lsb- illustration: the guardians caught napping -rsb- "get up, get up, quickeye, and tell me where is the princess?"
quickeye looked about for some time without answering.
"oh, my lord, she is far, very far.
three hundred miles away there lies a black sea.
in the middle of this sea there is a little shell, and in the middle of the shell is fixed a gold ring.
that gold ring is the princess.
but do not vex your soul; we will get her.
only to-day, long must take broad with him.
he will be wanted badly."
so long took quickeye on one shoulder, and broad on the other, and they set out.
at each stride they left thirty miles behind them.
when they reached the black sea, quickeye showed them the spot where they must seek the shell.
but though long stretched down his hand as far as it would go, he could not find the shell, for it lay at the bottom of the sea.
"wait a moment, comrades, it will be all right.
i will help you," said broad.
then he swelled himself out so that you would have thought the world could hardly have held him, and stooping down he drank.
he drank so much at every mouthful, that only a minute or so passed before the water had sunk enough for long to put his hand to the bottom.
he soon found the shell, and pulled the ring out.
but time had been lost, and long had a double burden to carry.
the dawn was breaking fast before they got back to the castle, where the prince was waiting for them in an agony of fear.
soon the first rays of the sun were seen peeping over the tops of the mountains.
the door burst open, and finding the prince standing alone the wizard broke into peals of wicked laughter.
but as he laughed a loud crash was heard, the window fell into a thousand pieces, a gold ring glittered in the air, and the princess stood before the enchanter.
for quickeye, who was watching from afar, had told long of the terrible danger now threatening the prince, and long, summoning all his strength for one gigantic effort, had thrown the ring right through the window.
the wizard shrieked and howled with rage, till the whole castle trembled to its foundations.
then a crash was heard, the third band split in two, and a crow flew out of the window.
then the princess at length broke the enchanted silence, and blushing like a rose, gave the prince her thanks for her unlooked-for deliverance.
but it was not only the princess who was restored to life by the flight of the wicked black crow.
the marble figures became men once more, and took up their occupations just as they had left them off.
the horses neighed in the stables, the flowers blossomed in the garden, the birds flew in the air, the fish darted in the water.
everywhere you looked, all was life, all was joy!
and the knights who had been turned into stone came in a body to offer their homage to the prince who had set them free.
"do not thank me," he said, "for i have done nothing.
without my faithful servants, long, broad, and quickeye, i should even have been as one of you."
with these words he bade them farewell, and departed with the princess and his faithful companions for the kingdom of his father.
the old king, who had long since given up all hope, wept for joy at the sight of his son, and insisted that the wedding should take place as soon as possible.
all the knights who had been enchanted in the iron castle were invited to the ceremony, and after it had taken place, long, broad, and quickeye took leave of the young couple, saying that they were going to look for more work.
the prince offered them all their hearts could desire if they would only remain with him, but they replied that an idle life would not please them, and that they could never be happy unless they were busy, so they went away to seek their fortunes, and for all i know are seeking still.
-lsb- contes populaires.
traduits par louis léger.
paris: leroux, éditeur. -rsb-
prunella there was once upon a time a woman who had an only daughter.
when the child was about seven years old she used to pass every day, on her way to school, an orchard where there was a wild plum tree, with delicious ripe plums hanging from the branches.
each morning the child would pick one, and put it into her pocket to eat at school.
for this reason she was called prunella.
now, the orchard belonged to a witch.
one day the witch noticed the child gathering a plum, as she passed along the road.
prunella did it quite innocently, not knowing that she was doing wrong in taking the fruit that hung close to the roadside.
but the witch was furious, and next day hid herself behind the hedge, and when prunella came past, and put out her hand to pluck the fruit, she jumped out and seized her by the arm.
"ah!
you little thief!"
she exclaimed."
i have caught you at last.
now you will have to pay for your misdeeds."
the poor child, half dead with fright, implored the old woman to forgive her, assuring her that she did not know she had done wrong, and promising never to do it again.
but the witch had no pity, and she dragged prunella into her house, where she kept her till the time should come when she could have her revenge.
as the years passed prunella grew up into a very beautiful girl.
now her beauty and goodness, instead of softening the witch's heart, aroused her hatred and jealousy.
one day she called prunella to her, and said: "take this basket, go to the well, and bring it back to me filled with water.
if you do n't i will kill you."
the girl took the basket, went and let it down into the well again and again.
but her work was lost labour.
each time, as she drew up the basket, the water streamed out of it.
at last, in despair, she gave it up, and leaning against the well she began to cry bitterly, when suddenly she heard a voice at her side saying "prunella, why are you crying?"
turning round she beheld a handsome youth, who looked kindly at her, as if he were sorry for her trouble.
"who are you," she asked, "and how do you know my name?'"
i am the son of the witch," he replied, "and my name is bensiabel.
i know that she is determined that you shall die, but i promise you that she shall not carry out her wicked plan.
will you give me a kiss, if i fill your basket?"
"no," said prunella," i will not give you a kiss, because you are the son of a witch."
"very well," replied the youth sadly.
"give me your basket and i will fill it for you."
and he dipped it into the well, and the water stayed in it.
then the girl returned to the house, carrying the basket filled with water.
when the witch saw it, she became white with rage, and exclaimed "bensiabel must have helped you."
and prunella looked down, and said nothing.
"well, we shall see who will win in the end," said the witch, in a great rage.
the following day she called the girl to her and said: "take this sack of wheat.
i am going out for a little; by the time i return i shall expect you to have made it into bread.
if you have not done it i will kill you."
having said this she left the room, closing and locking the door behind her.
poor prunella did not know what to do.
it was impossible for her to grind the wheat, prepare the dough, and bake the bread, all in the short time that the witch would be away.
at first she set to work bravely, but when she saw how hopeless her task was, she threw herself on a chair, and began to weep bitterly.
she was roused from her despair by hearing bensiabel's voice at her side saying: "prunella, prunella, do not weep like that.
if you will give me a kiss i will make the bread, and you will be saved.'"
i will not kiss the son of a witch," replied prunella.
but bensiabel took the wheat from her, and ground it, and made the dough, and when the witch returned the bread was ready baked in the oven.
turning to the girl, with fury in her voice, she said: "bensiabel must have been here and helped you;" and prunella looked down, and said nothing.
"we shall see who will win in the end," said the witch, and her eyes blazed with anger.
next day she called the girl to her and said: "go to my sister, who lives across the mountains.
she will give you a casket, which you must bring back to me."
this she said knowing that her sister, who was a still more cruel and wicked witch than herself, would never allow the girl to return, but would imprison her and starve her to death.
but prunella did not suspect anything, and set out quite cheerfully.
on the way she met bensiabel.
"where are you going, prunella?"
he asked."
i am going to the sister of my mistress, from whom i am to fetch a casket."
"oh poor, poor girl!"
said bensiabel.
"you are being sent straight to your death.
give me a kiss, and i will save you."
but again prunella answered as before," i will not kiss the son of a witch."
"nevertheless, i will save your life," said bensiabel, "for i love you better than myself.
take this flagon of oil, this loaf of bread, this piece of rope, and this broom.
when you reach the witch's house, oil the hinges of the door with the contents of the flagon, and throw the loaf of bread to the great fierce mastiff, who will come to meet you.
when you have passed the dog, you will see in the courtyard a miserable woman trying in vain to let down a bucket into the well with her plaited hair.
you must give her the rope.
in the kitchen you will find a still more miserable woman trying to clean the hearth with her tongue; to her you must give the broom.
you will see the casket on the top of a cupboard, take it as quickly as you can, and leave the house without a moment's delay.
if you do all this exactly as i have told you, you will not be killed."
so prunella, having listened carefully to his instructions, did just what he had told her.
she reached the house, oiled the hinges of the door, threw the loaf to the dog, gave the poor woman at the well the rope, and the woman in the kitchen the broom, caught up the casket from the top of the cupboard, and fled with it out of the house.
but the witch heard her as she ran away, and rushing to the window called out to the woman in the kitchen: "kill that thief, i tell you!"
but the woman replied: "i will not kill her, for she has given me a broom, whereas you forced me to clean the hearth with my tongue."
then the witch called out in fury to the woman at the well; "take the girl, i tell you, and fling her into the water, and drown her!"
but the woman answered; "no, i will not drown her, for she gave me this rope, whereas you forced me to use my hair to let down the bucket to draw water."
then the witch shouted to the dog to seize the girl and hold her fast; but the dog answered; "no, i will not seize her, for she gave me a loaf of bread, whereas you let me starve with hunger."
the witch was so angry that she nearly choked, as she called out; "door, bang upon her, and keep her a prisoner."
but the door answered;" i wo n't, for she has oiled my hinges, so that they move quite easily, whereas you left them all rough and rusty."
and so prunella escaped, and, with the casket under her arm, reached the house of her mistress who, as you may believe, was as angry as she was surprised to see the girl standing before her, looking more beautiful than ever.
her eyes flashed, as in furious tones she asked her, "did you meet bensiabel?"
but prunella looked down, and said nothing.
"we shall see," said the witch, "who will win in the end.
listen, there are three cocks in the hen-house; one is yellow, one black, and the third is white.
if one of them crows during the night you must tell me which one it is.
woe to you if you make a mistake.
i will gobble you up in one mouthful."
now bensiabel was in the room next to the one where prunella slept.
at midnight she awoke hearing a cock crow.
"which one was that?"
shouted the witch.
then, trembling, prunella knocked on the wall and whispered: "bensiabel, bensiabel, tell me, which cock crowed?"
"will you give me a kiss if i tell you?"
he whispered back through the wall.
but she answered "no."
then he whispered back to her; "nevertheless, i will tell you.
it was the yellow cock that crowed."
the witch, who had noticed the delay in prunella's answer, approached her door calling angrily: "answer at once, or i will kill you."
so prunella answered: "it was the yellow cock that crowed."
and the witch stamped her foot and gnashed her teeth.
soon after another cock crowed.
"tell me now which one it is," called the witch.
and, prompted by bensiabel, prunella answered: "that is the black cock."
a few minutes after the crowing was heard again, and the voice of the witch demanding "which one was that?"
and again prunella implored bensiabel to help her.
but this time he hesitated, for he hoped that prunella might forget that he was a witch's son, and promise to give him a kiss.
and as he hesitated he heard an agonised cry from the girl: "bensiabel, bensiabel, save me!
the witch is coming, she is close to me, i hear the gnashing of her teeth!"
with a bound bensiabel opened his door and flung himself against the witch.
he pulled her back with such force that she stumbled, and falling headlong, dropped down dead at the foot of the stairs.
_book_title_: lucy_maud_montgomery___the_golden_road.txt.out
chapter i.
a new departure "i've thought of something amusing for the winter," i said as we drew into a half-circle around the glorious wood-fire in uncle alec's kitchen.
it had been a day of wild november wind, closing down into a wet, eerie twilight.
outside, the wind was shrilling at the windows and around the eaves, and the rain was playing on the roof.
the old willow at the gate was writhing in the storm and the orchard was a place of weird music, born of all the tears and fears that haunt the halls of night.
but little we cared for the gloom and the loneliness of the outside world; we kept them at bay with the light of the fire and the laughter of our young lips.
we had been having a splendid game of blind-man's buff.
that is, it had been splendid at first; but later the fun went out of it because we found that peter was, of malice prepense, allowing himself to be caught too easily, in order that he might have the pleasure of catching felicity -- which he never failed to do, no matter how tightly his eyes were bound.
what remarkable goose said that love is blind?
love can see through five folds of closely-woven muffler with ease!
""i'm getting tired," said cecily, whose breath was coming rather quickly and whose pale cheeks had bloomed into scarlet.
""let's sit down and get the story girl to tell us a story."
but as we dropped into our places the story girl shot a significant glance at me which intimated that this was the psychological moment for introducing the scheme she and i had been secretly developing for some days.
it was really the story girl's idea and none of mine.
but she had insisted that i should make the suggestion as coming wholly from myself.
""if you do n't, felicity wo n't agree to it.
you know yourself, bev, how contrary she's been lately over anything i mention.
and if she goes against it peter will too -- the ninny!
-- and it would n't be any fun if we were n't all in it."
""what is it?"
asked felicity, drawing her chair slightly away from peter's.
""it is this.
let us get up a newspaper of our own -- write it all ourselves, and have all we do in it.
do n't you think we can get a lot of fun out of it?"
everyone looked rather blank and amazed, except the story girl.
she knew what she had to do, and she did it.
""what a silly idea!"
she exclaimed, with a contemptuous toss of her long brown curls.
""just as if we could get up a newspaper!"
felicity fired up, exactly as we had hoped.
""i think it's a splendid idea," she said enthusiastically.
""i'd like to know why we could n't get up as good a newspaper as they have in town!
uncle roger says the daily enterprise has gone to the dogs -- all the news it prints is that some old woman has put a shawl on her head and gone across the road to have tea with another old woman.
i guess we could do better than that.
you need n't think, sara stanley, that nobody but you can do anything."
""i think it would be great fun," said peter decidedly.
""my aunt jane helped edit a paper when she was at queen's academy, and she said it was very amusing and helped her a great deal."
the story girl could hide her delight only by dropping her eyes and frowning.
""bev wants to be editor," she said, "and i do n't see how he can, with no experience.
anyhow, it would be a lot of trouble."
""some people are so afraid of a little bother," retorted felicity.
""i think it would be nice," said cecily timidly, "and none of us have any experience of being editors, any more than bev, so that would n't matter."
""will it be printed?"
asked dan.
""oh, no," i said.
""we ca n't have it printed.
we'll just have to write it out -- we can buy foolscap from the teacher."
""i do n't think it will be much of a newspaper if it is n't printed," said dan scornfully.
""it does n't matter very much what you think," said felicity.
""thank you," retorted dan.
""of course," said the story girl hastily, not wishing to have dan turned against our project, "if all the rest of you want it i'll go in for it too.
i daresay it would be real good fun, now that i come to think of it.
and we'll keep the copies, and when we become famous they'll be quite valuable."
""i wonder if any of us ever will be famous," said felix.
""the story girl will be," i said.
""i do n't see how she can be," said felicity skeptically.
""why, she's just one of us."
""well, it's decided, then, that we're to have a newspaper," i resumed briskly.
""the next thing is to choose a name for it.
that's a very important thing."
""how often are you going to publish it?"
asked felix.
""once a month."
""i thought newspapers came out every day, or every week at least," said dan.
""we could n't have one every week," i explained.
""it would be too much work."
""well, that's an argument," admitted dan.
""the less work you can get along with the better, in my opinion.
no, felicity, you need n't say it.
i know exactly what you want to say, so save your breath to cool your porridge.
i agree with you that i never work if i can find anything else to do.""
"remember it is harder still to have no work to do,"" quoted cecily reprovingly.
""i do n't believe that," rejoined dan.
""i'm like the irishman who said he wished the man who begun work had stayed and finished it."
""well, is it decided that bev is to be editor?"
asked felix.
""of course it is," felicity answered for everybody.
""then," said felix, "i move that the name be the king monthly magazine."
""that sounds fine," said peter, hitching his chair a little nearer felicity's.
""but," said cecily timidly, "that will leave out peter and the story girl and sara ray, just as if they did n't have a share in it.
i do n't think that would be fair."
""you name it then, cecily," i suggested.
""oh!"
cecily threw a deprecating glance at the story girl and felicity.
then, meeting the contempt in the latter's gaze, she raised her head with unusual spirit.
""i think it would be nice just to call it our magazine," she said.
""then we'd all feel as if we had a share in it."
""our magazine it will be, then," i said.
""and as for having a share in it, you bet we'll all have a share in it.
if i'm to be editor you'll all have to be sub-editors, and have charge of a department."
""oh, i could n't," protested cecily.
""you must," i said inexorably."
"england expects everyone to do his duty."
that's our motto -- only we'll put prince edward island in place of england.
there must be no shirking.
now, what departments will we have?
we must make it as much like a real newspaper as we can."
""well, we ought to have an etiquette department, then," said felicity.
""the family guide has one."
""of course we'll have one," i said, "and dan will edit it."
""dan!"
exclaimed felicity, who had fondly expected to be asked to edit it herself.
""i can run an etiquette column as well as that idiot in the family guide, anyhow," said dan defiantly.
""but you ca n't have an etiquette department unless questions are asked.
what am i to do if nobody asks any?"
""you must make some up," said the story girl.
""uncle roger says that is what the family guide man does.
he says it is impossible that there can be as many hopeless fools in the world as that column would stand for otherwise."
""we want you to edit the household department, felicity," i said, seeing a cloud lowering on that fair lady's brow.
""nobody can do that as well as you.
felix will edit the jokes and the information bureau, and cecily must be fashion editor.
yes, you must, sis.
it's easy as wink.
and the story girl will attend to the personals.
they're very important.
anyone can contribute a personal, but the story girl is to see there are some in every issue, even if she has to make them up, like dan with the etiquette."
""bev will run the scrap book department, besides the editorials," said the story girl, seeing that i was too modest to say it myself.
""are n't you going to have a story page?"
asked peter.
""we will, if you'll be fiction and poetry editor," i said.
peter, in his secret soul, was dismayed, but he would not blanch before felicity.
""all right," he said, recklessly.
""we can put anything we like in the scrap book department," i explained, "but all the other contributions must be original, and all must have the name of the writer signed to them, except the personals.
we must all do our best.
our magazine is to be" a feast of reason and flow of soul.""
i felt that i had worked in two quotations with striking effect.
the others, with the exception of the story girl, looked suitably impressed.
""but," said cecily, reproachfully, "have n't you anything for sara ray to do?
she'll feel awful bad if she is left out."
i had forgotten sara ray.
nobody, except cecily, ever did remember sara ray unless she was on the spot.
but we decided to put her in as advertising manager.
that sounded well and really meant very little.
""well, we'll go ahead then," i said, with a sigh of relief that the project had been so easily launched.
""we'll get the first issue out about the first of january.
and whatever else we do we must n't let uncle roger get hold of it.
he'd make such fearful fun of it."
""i hope we can make a success of it," said peter moodily.
he had been moody ever since he was entrapped into being fiction editor.
""it will be a success if we are determined to succeed," i said."
"where there is a will there is always a way.""
""that's just what ursula townley said when her father locked her in her room the night she was going to run away with kenneth macnair," said the story girl.
we pricked up our ears, scenting a story.
""who were ursula townley and kenneth macnair?"
i asked.
""kenneth macnair was a first cousin of the awkward man's grandfather, and ursula townley was the belle of the island in her day.
who do you suppose told me the story -- no, read it to me, out of his brown book?"
""never the awkward man himself!"
i exclaimed incredulously.
""yes, he did," said the story girl triumphantly.
""i met him one day last week back in the maple woods when i was looking for ferns.
he was sitting by the spring, writing in his brown book.
he hid it when he saw me and looked real silly; but after i had talked to him awhile i just asked him about it, and told him that the gossips said he wrote poetry in it, and if he did would he tell me, because i was dying to know.
he said he wrote a little of everything in it; and then i begged him to read me something out of it, and he read me the story of ursula and kenneth."
""i do n't see how you ever had the face," said felicity; and even cecily looked as if she thought the story girl had gone rather far.
""never mind that," cried felix, "but tell us the story.
that's the main thing."
""i'll tell it just as the awkward man read it, as far as i can," said the story girl, "but i ca n't put all his nice poetical touches in, because i ca n't remember them all, though he read it over twice for me."
chapter ii.
a will, a way and a woman "one day, over a hundred years ago, ursula townley was waiting for kenneth macnair in a great beechwood, where brown nuts were falling and an october wind was making the leaves dance on the ground like pixy-people."
""what are pixy-people?"
demanded peter, forgetting the story girl's dislike of interruptions.
""hush," whispered cecily.
""that is only one of the awkward man's poetical touches, i guess."
""there were cultivated fields between the grove and the dark blue gulf; but far behind and on each side were woods, for prince edward island a hundred years ago was not what it is today.
the settlements were few and scattered, and the population so scanty that old hugh townley boasted that he knew every man, woman and child in it.
""old hugh was quite a noted man in his day.
he was noted for several things -- he was rich, he was hospitable, he was proud, he was masterful -- and he had for daughter the handsomest young woman in prince edward island.
""of course, the young men were not blind to her good looks, and she had so many lovers that all the other girls hated her --" "you bet!"
said dan, aside -- "but the only one who found favour in her eyes was the very last man she should have pitched her fancy on, at least if old hugh were the judge.
kenneth macnair was a dark-eyed young sea-captain of the next settlement, and it was to meet him that ursula stole to the beechwood on that autumn day of crisp wind and ripe sunshine.
old hugh had forbidden his house to the young man, making such a scene of fury about it that even ursula's high spirit quailed.
old hugh had really nothing against kenneth himself; but years before either kenneth or ursula was born, kenneth's father had beaten hugh townley in a hotly contested election.
political feeling ran high in those days, and old hugh had never forgiven the macnair his victory.
the feud between the families dated from that tempest in the provincial teapot, and the surplus of votes on the wrong side was the reason why, thirty years after, ursula had to meet her lover by stealth if she met him at all."
""was the macnair a conservative or a grit?"
asked felicity.
""it does n't make any difference what he was," said the story girl impatiently.
""even a tory would be romantic a hundred years ago.
well, ursula could n't see kenneth very often, for kenneth lived fifteen miles away and was often absent from home in his vessel.
on this particular day it was nearly three months since they had met.
""the sunday before, young sandy macnair had been in carlyle church.
he had risen at dawn that morning, walked bare-footed for eight miles along the shore, carrying his shoes, hired a harbour fisherman to row him over the channel, and then walked eight miles more to the church at carlyle, less, it is to be feared, from a zeal for holy things than that he might do an errand for his adored brother, kenneth.
he carried a letter which he contrived to pass into ursula's hand in the crowd as the people came out.
this letter asked ursula to meet kenneth in the beechwood the next afternoon, and so she stole away there when suspicious father and watchful stepmother thought she was spinning in the granary loft."
""it was very wrong of her to deceive her parents," said felicity primly.
the story girl could n't deny this, so she evaded the ethical side of the question skilfully.
""i am not telling you what ursula townley ought to have done," she said loftily.
""i am only telling you what she did do.
if you do n't want to hear it you need n't listen, of course.
there would n't be many stories to tell if nobody ever did anything she should n't do.
""well, when kenneth came, the meeting was just what might have been expected between two lovers who had taken their last kiss three months before.
so it was a good half-hour before ursula said," "oh, kenneth, i can not stay long -- i shall be missed.
you said in your letter that you had something important to talk of.
what is it?""
"my news is this, ursula.
next saturday morning my vessel, the fair lady, with her captain on board, sails at dawn from charlottetown harbour, bound for buenos ayres.
at this season this means a safe and sure return -- next may.""
"kenneth!"
cried ursula.
she turned pale and burst into tears.
"how can you think of leaving me?
oh, you are cruel!""
"why, no, sweetheart," laughed kenneth.
"the captain of the fair lady will take his bride with him.
we'll spend our honeymoon on the high seas, ursula, and the cold canadian winter under southern palms.""
"you want me to run away with you, kenneth?"
exclaimed ursula."
"indeed, dear girl, there's nothing else to do!""
"oh, i can not!"
she protested.
"my father would --"" "we'll not consult him -- until afterward.
come, ursula, you know there's no other way.
we've always known it must come to this.
your father will never forgive me for my father.
you wo n't fail me now.
think of the long parting if you send me away alone on such a voyage.
pluck up your courage, and we'll let townleys and macnairs whistle their mouldy feuds down the wind while we sail southward in the fair lady.
i have a plan.""
"let me hear it," said ursula, beginning to get back her breath."
"there is to be a dance at the springs friday night.
are you invited, ursula?""
"yes.""
"good.
i am not -- but i shall be there -- in the fir grove behind the house, with two horses.
when the dancing is at its height you'll steal out to meet me.
then't is but a fifteen mile ride to charlottetown, where a good minister, who is a friend of mine, will be ready to marry us.
by the time the dancers have tired their heels you and i will be on our vessel, able to snap our fingers at fate.""
"and what if i do not meet you in the fir grove?"
said ursula, a little impertinently."
"if you do not, i'll sail for south america the next morning, and many a long year will pass ere kenneth macnair comes home again."
""perhaps kenneth did n't mean that, but ursula thought he did, and it decided her.
she agreed to run away with him.
yes, of course that was wrong, too, felicity.
she ought to have said, "no, i shall be married respectably from home, and have a wedding and a silk dress and bridesmaids and lots of presents."
but she did n't.
she was n't as prudent as felicity king would have been."
""she was a shameless hussy," said felicity, venting on the long-dead ursula that anger she dare not visit on the story girl.
""oh, no, felicity dear, she was just a lass of spirit.
i'd have done the same.
and when friday night came she began to dress for the dance with a brave heart.
she was to go to the springs with her uncle and aunt, who were coming on horseback that afternoon, and would then go on to the springs in old hugh's carriage, which was the only one in carlyle then.
they were to leave in time to reach the springs before nightfall, for the october nights were dark and the wooded roads rough for travelling.
""when ursula was ready she looked at herself in the glass with a good deal of satisfaction.
yes, felicity, she was a vain baggage, that same ursula, but that kind did n't all die out a hundred years ago.
and she had good reason for being vain.
she wore the sea-green silk which had been brought out from england a year before and worn but once -- at the christmas ball at government house.
a fine, stiff, rustling silk it was, and over it shone ursula's crimson cheeks and gleaming eyes, and masses of nut brown hair.
""as she turned from the glass she heard her father's voice below, loud and angry.
growing very pale, she ran out into the hall.
her father was already half way upstairs, his face red with fury.
in the hall below ursula saw her step-mother, looking troubled and vexed.
at the door stood malcolm ramsay, a homely neighbour youth who had been courting ursula in his clumsy way ever since she grew up.
ursula had always hated him."
"ursula!"
shouted old hugh, "come here and tell this scoundrel he lies.
he says that you met kenneth macnair in the beechgrove last tuesday.
tell him he lies!
tell him he lies!"
""ursula was no coward.
she looked scornfully at poor ramsay."
"the creature is a spy and a tale-bearer," she said, "but in this he does not lie.
i did meet kenneth macnair last tuesday.""
"and you dare to tell me this to my face!"
roared old hugh.
"back to your room, girl!
back to your room and stay there!
take off that finery.
you go to no more dances.
you shall stay in that room until i choose to let you out.
no, not a word!
i'll put you there if you do n't go.
in with you -- ay, and take your knitting with you.
occupy yourself with that this evening instead of kicking your heels at the springs!"
""he snatched a roll of gray stocking from the hall table and flung it into ursula's room.
ursula knew she would have to follow it, or be picked up and carried in like a naughty child.
so she gave the miserable ramsay a look that made him cringe, and swept into her room with her head in the air.
the next moment she heard the door locked behind her.
her first proceeding was to have a cry of anger and shame and disappointment.
that did no good, and then she took to marching up and down her room.
it did not calm her to hear the rumble of the carriage out of the gate as her uncle and aunt departed."
"oh, what's to be done?"
she sobbed.
"kenneth will be furious.
he will think i have failed him and he will go away hot with anger against me.
if i could only send a word of explanation i know he would not leave me.
but there seems to be no way at all -- though i have heard that there's always a way when there's a will.
oh, i shall go mad!
if the window were not so high i would jump out of it.
but to break my legs or my neck would not mend the matter."
""the afternoon passed on.
at sunset ursula heard hoof-beats and ran to the window.
andrew kinnear of the springs was tying his horse at the door.
he was a dashing young fellow, and a political crony of old hugh.
no doubt he would be at the dance that night.
oh, if she could get speech for but a moment with him!
""when he had gone into the house, ursula, turning impatiently from the window, tripped and almost fell over the big ball of homespun yarn her father had flung on the floor.
for a moment she gazed at it resentfully -- then, with a gay little laugh, she pounced on it.
the next moment she was at her table, writing a brief note to kenneth macnair.
when it was written, ursula unwound the gray ball to a considerable depth, pinned the note on it, and rewound the yarn over it.
a gray ball, the color of the twilight, might escape observation, where a white missive fluttering down from an upper window would surely be seen by someone.
then she softly opened her window and waited.
""it was dusk when andrew went away.
fortunately old hugh did not come to the door with him.
as andrew untied his horse ursula threw the ball with such good aim that it struck him, as she had meant it to do, squarely on the head.
andrew looked up at her window.
she leaned out, put her finger warningly on her lips, pointed to the ball, and nodded.
andrew, looking somewhat puzzled, picked up the ball, sprang to his saddle, and galloped off.
""so far, well, thought ursula.
but would andrew understand?
would he have wit enough to think of exploring the big, knobby ball for its delicate secret?
and would he be at the dance after all?
""the evening dragged by.
time had never seemed so long to ursula.
she could not rest or sleep.
it was midnight before she heard the patter of a handful of gravel on her window-panes.
in a trice she was leaning out.
below in the darkness stood kenneth macnair."
"oh, kenneth, did you get my letter?
and is it safe for you to be here?""
"safe enough.
your father is in bed.
i've waited two hours down the road for his light to go out, and an extra half-hour to put him to sleep.
the horses are there.
slip down and out, ursula.
we'll make charlottetown by dawn yet.""
"that's easier said than done, lad.
i'm locked in.
but do you go out behind the new barn and bring the ladder you will find there."
""five minutes later, miss ursula, hooded and cloaked, scrambled soundlessly down the ladder, and in five more minutes she and kenneth were riding along the road."
"there's a stiff gallop before us, ursula," said kenneth.""
i would ride to the world's end with you, kenneth macnair," said ursula.
oh, of course she should n't have said anything of the sort, felicity.
but you see people had no etiquette departments in those days.
and when the red sunlight of a fair october dawn was shining over the gray sea the fair lady sailed out of charlottetown harbour.
on her deck stood kenneth and ursula macnair, and in her hand, as a most precious treasure, the bride carried a ball of gray homespun yarn."
""well," said dan, yawning, "i like that kind of a story.
nobody goes and dies in it, that's one good thing."
""did old hugh forgive ursula?"
i asked.
""the story stopped there in the brown book," said the story girl, "but the awkward man says he did, after awhile."
""it must be rather romantic to be run away with," remarked cecily, wistfully.
""do n't you get such silly notions in your head, cecily king," said felicity, severely.
chapter iii.
the christmas harp great was the excitement in the houses of king as christmas drew nigh.
the air was simply charged with secrets.
everybody was very penurious for weeks beforehand and hoards were counted scrutinizingly every day.
mysterious pieces of handiwork were smuggled in and out of sight, and whispered consultations were held, about which nobody thought of being jealous, as might have happened at any other time.
felicity was in her element, for she and her mother were deep in preparations for the day.
cecily and the story girl were excluded from these doings with indifference on aunt janet's part and what seemed ostentatious complacency on felicity's.
cecily took this to heart and complained to me about it.
""i'm one of this family just as much as felicity is," she said, with as much indignation as cecily could feel, "and i do n't think she need shut me out of everything.
when i wanted to stone the raisins for the mince-meat she said, no, she would do it herself, because christmas mince-meat was very particular -- as if i could n't stone raisins right!
the airs felicity puts on about her cooking just make me sick," concluded cecily wrathfully.
""it's a pity she does n't make a mistake in cooking once in a while herself," i said.
""then maybe she would n't think she knew so much more than other people."
all parcels that came in the mail from distant friends were taken charge of by aunts janet and olivia, not to be opened until the great day of the feast itself.
how slowly the last week passed!
but even watched pots will boil in the fulness of time, and finally christmas day came, gray and dour and frost-bitten without, but full of revelry and rose-red mirth within.
uncle roger and aunt olivia and the story girl came over early for the day; and peter came too, with his shining, morning face, to be hailed with joy, for we had been afraid that peter would not be able to spend christmas with us.
his mother had wanted him home with her.
""of course i ought to go," peter had told me mournfully, "but we wo n't have turkey for dinner, because ma ca n't afford it.
and ma always cries on holidays because she says they make her think of father.
of course she ca n't help it, but it ai n't cheerful.
aunt jane would n't have cried.
aunt jane used to say she never saw the man who was worth spoiling her eyes for.
but i guess i'll have to spend christmas at home."
at the last moment, however, a cousin of mrs. craig's in charlottetown invited her for christmas, and peter, being given his choice of going or staying, joyfully elected to stay.
so we were all together, except sara ray, who had been invited but whose mother would n't let her come.
""sara ray's mother is a nuisance," snapped the story girl.
""she just lives to make that poor child miserable, and she wo n't let her go to the party tonight, either."
""it is just breaking sara's heart that she ca n't," said cecily compassionately.
""i'm almost afraid i wo n't enjoy myself for thinking of her, home there alone, most likely reading the bible, while we're at the party."
""she might be worse occupied than reading the bible," said felicity rebukingly.
""but mrs. ray makes her read it as a punishment," protested cecily.
""whenever sara cries to go anywhere -- and of course she'll cry tonight -- mrs. ray makes her read seven chapters in the bible.
i would n't think that would make her very fond of it.
and i'll not be able to talk the party over with sara afterwards -- and that's half the fun gone."
""you can tell her all about it," comforted felix.
""telling is n't a bit like talking it over," retorted cecily.
""it's too one-sided."
we had an exciting time opening our presents.
some of us had more than others, but we all received enough to make us feel comfortably that we were not unduly neglected in the matter.
the contents of the box which the story girl's father had sent her from paris made our eyes stick out.
it was full of beautiful things, among them another red silk dress -- not the bright, flame-hued tint of her old one, but a rich, dark crimson, with the most distracting flounces and bows and ruffles; and with it were little red satin slippers with gold buckles, and heels that made aunt janet hold up her hands in horror.
felicity remarked scornfully that she would have thought the story girl would get tired wearing red so much, and even cecily commented apart to me that she thought when you got so many things all at once you did n't appreciate them as much as when you only got a few.
""i'd never get tired of red," said the story girl.
""i just love it -- it's so rich and glowing.
when i'm dressed in red i always feel ever so much cleverer than in any other colour.
thoughts just crowd into my brain one after the other.
oh, you darling dress -- you dear, sheeny, red-rosy, glistening, silky thing!"
she flung it over her shoulder and danced around the kitchen.
""do n't be silly, sara," said aunt janet, a little stimy.
she was a good soul, that aunt janet, and had a kind, loving heart in her ample bosom.
but i fancy there were times when she thought it rather hard that the daughter of a roving adventurer -- as she considered him -- like blair stanley should disport herself in silk dresses, while her own daughters must go clad in gingham and muslin -- for those were the days when a feminine creature got one silk dress in her lifetime, and seldom more than one.
the story girl also got a present from the awkward man -- a little, shabby, worn volume with a great many marks on the leaves.
""why, it is n't new -- it's an old book!"
exclaimed felicity.
""i did n't think the awkward man was mean, whatever else he was."
""oh, you do n't understand, felicity," said the story girl patiently.
""and i do n't suppose i can make you understand.
but i'll try.
i'd ten times rather have this than a new book.
it's one of his own, do n't you see -- one that he has read a hundred times and loved and made a friend of.
a new book, just out of a shop, would n't be the same thing at all.
it would n't mean anything.
i consider it a great compliment that he has given me this book.
i'm prouder of it than of anything else i've got."
""well, you're welcome to it," said felicity.
""i do n't understand and i do n't want to.
i would n't give anybody a christmas present that was n't new, and i would n't thank anybody who gave me one."
peter was in the seventh heaven because felicity had given him a present -- and, moreover, one that she had made herself.
it was a bookmark of perforated cardboard, with a gorgeous red and yellow worsted goblet worked on it, and below, in green letters, the solemn warning, "touch not the cup."
as peter was not addicted to habits of intemperance, not even to looking on dandelion wine when it was pale yellow, we did not exactly see why felicity should have selected such a device.
but peter was perfectly satisfied, so nobody cast any blight on his happiness by carping criticism.
later on felicity told me she had worked the bookmark for him because his father used to drink before he ran away.
""i thought peter ought to be warned in time," she said.
even pat had a ribbon of blue, which he clawed off and lost half an hour after it was tied on him.
pat did not care for vain adornments of the body.
we had a glorious christmas dinner, fit for the halls of lucullus, and ate far more than was good for us, none daring to make us afraid on that one day of the year.
and in the evening -- oh, rapture and delight!
-- we went to kitty marr's party.
it was a fine december evening; the sharp air of morning had mellowed until it was as mild as autumn.
there had been no snow, and the long fields, sloping down from the homestead, were brown and mellow.
a weird, dreamy stillness had fallen on the purple earth, the dark fir woods, the valley rims, the sere meadows.
nature seemed to have folded satisfied hands to rest, knowing that her long wintry slumber was coming upon her.
at first, when the invitations to the party had come, aunt janet had said we could not go; but uncle alec interceded in our favour, perhaps influenced thereto by cecily's wistful eyes.
if uncle alec had a favourite among his children it was cecily, and he had grown even more indulgent towards her of late.
now and then i saw him looking at her intently, and, following his eyes and thought, i had, somehow, seen that cecily was paler and thinner than she had been in the summer, and that her soft eyes seemed larger, and that over her little face in moments of repose there was a certain languor and weariness that made it very sweet and pathetic.
and i heard him tell aunt janet that he did not like to see the child getting so much the look of her aunt felicity.
""cecily is perfectly well," said aunt janet sharply.
""she's only growing very fast.
do n't be foolish, alec."
but after that cecily had cups of cream where the rest of us got only milk; and aunt janet was very particular to see that she had her rubbers on whenever she went out.
on this merry christmas evening, however, no fears or dim foreshadowings of any coming event clouded our hearts or faces.
cecily looked brighter and prettier than i had ever seen her, with her softly shining eyes and the nut brown gloss of her hair.
felicity was too beautiful for words; and even the story girl, between excitement and the crimson silk array, blossomed out with a charm and allurement more potent than any regular loveliness -- and this in spite of the fact that aunt olivia had tabooed the red satin slippers and mercilessly decreed that stout shoes should be worn.
""i know just how you feel about it, you daughter of eve," she said, with gay sympathy, "but december roads are damp, and if you are going to walk to marrs" you are not going to do it in those frivolous parisian concoctions, even with overboots on; so be brave, dear heart, and show that you have a soul above little red satin shoes."
""anyhow," said uncle roger, "that red silk dress will break the hearts of all the feminine small fry at the party.
you'd break their spirits, too, if you wore the slippers.
do n't do it, sara.
leave them one wee loophole of enjoyment."
""what does uncle roger mean?"
whispered felicity.
""he means you girls are all dying of jealousy because of the story girl's dress," said dan.
""i am not of a jealous disposition," said felicity loftily, "and she's entirely welcome to the dress -- with a complexion like that."
but we enjoyed that party hugely, every one of us.
and we enjoyed the walk home afterwards, through dim, enshadowed fields where silvery star-beams lay, while orion trod his stately march above us, and a red moon climbed up the black horizon's rim.
a brook went with us part of the way, singing to us through the dark -- a gay, irresponsible vagabond of valley and wilderness.
felicity and peter walked not with us.
peter's cup must surely have brimmed over that christmas night.
when we left the marr house, he had boldly said to felicity, "may i see you home?"
and felicity, much to our amazement, had taken his arm and marched off with him.
the primness of her was indescribable, and was not at all ruffled by dan's hoot of derision.
as for me, i was consumed by a secret and burning desire to ask the story girl if i might see her home; but i could not screw my courage to the sticking point.
how i envied peter his easy, insouciant manner!
i could not emulate him, so dan and felix and cecily and the story girl and i all walked hand in hand, huddling a little closer together as we went through james frewen's woods -- for there are strange harps in a fir grove, and who shall say what fingers sweep them?
mighty and sonorous was the music above our heads as the winds of the night stirred the great boughs tossing athwart the starlit sky.
perhaps it was that aeolian harmony which recalled to the story girl a legend of elder days.
""i read such a pretty story in one of aunt olivia's books last night," she said.
""it was called "the christmas harp."
would you like to hear it?
it seems to me it would just suit this part of the road."
""there is n't anything about -- about ghosts in it, is there?"
said cecily timidly.
""oh, no, i would n't tell a ghost story here for anything.
i'd frighten myself too much.
this story is about one of the shepherds who saw the angels on the first christmas night.
he was just a youth, and he loved music with all his heart, and he longed to be able to express the melody that was in his soul.
but he could not; he had a harp and he often tried to play on it; but his clumsy fingers only made such discord that his companions laughed at him and mocked him, and called him a madman because he would not give it up, but would rather sit apart by himself, with his arms about his harp, looking up into the sky, while they gathered around their fire and told tales to wile away their long night vigils as they watched their sheep on the hills.
but to him the thoughts that came out of the great silence were far sweeter than their mirth; and he never gave up the hope, which sometimes left his lips as a prayer, that some day he might be able to express those thoughts in music to the tired, weary, forgetful world.
on the first christmas night he was out with his fellow shepherds on the hills.
it was chill and dark, and all, except him, were glad to gather around the fire.
he sat, as usual, by himself, with his harp on his knee and a great longing in his heart.
and there came a marvellous light in the sky and over the hills, as if the darkness of the night had suddenly blossomed into a wonderful meadow of flowery flame; and all the shepherds saw the angels and heard them sing.
and as they sang, the harp that the young shepherd held began to play softly by itself, and as he listened to it he realized that it was playing the same music that the angels sang and that all his secret longings and aspirations and strivings were expressed in it.
from that night, whenever he took the harp in his hands, it played the same music; and he wandered all over the world carrying it; wherever the sound of its music was heard hate and discord fled away and peace and good-will reigned.
no one who heard it could think an evil thought; no one could feel hopeless or despairing or bitter or angry.
when a man had once heard that music it entered into his soul and heart and life and became a part of him for ever.
years went by; the shepherd grew old and bent and feeble; but still he roamed over land and sea, that his harp might carry the message of the christmas night and the angel song to all mankind.
at last his strength failed him and he fell by the wayside in the darkness; but his harp played as his spirit passed; and it seemed to him that a shining one stood by him, with wonderful starry eyes, and said to him, "lo, the music thy harp has played for so many years has been but the echo of the love and sympathy and purity and beauty in thine own soul; and if at any time in the wanderings thou hadst opened the door of that soul to evil or envy or selfishness thy harp would have ceased to play.
now thy life is ended; but what thou hast given to mankind has no end; and as long as the world lasts, so long will the heavenly music of the christmas harp ring in the ears of men."
when the sun rose the old shepherd lay dead by the roadside, with a smile on his face; and in his hands was a harp with all its strings broken."
we left the fir woods as the tale was ended, and on the opposite hill was home.
a dim light in the kitchen window betokened that aunt janet had no idea of going to bed until all her young fry were safely housed for the night.
""ma's waiting up for us," said dan.
""i'd laugh if she happened to go to the door just as felicity and peter were strutting up.
i guess she'll be cross.
it's nearly twelve."
""christmas will soon be over," said cecily, with a sigh.
""has n't it been a nice one?
it's the first we've all spent together.
do you suppose we'll ever spend another together?"
""lots of'em," said dan cheerily.
""why not?"
""oh, i do n't know," answered cecily, her footsteps lagging somewhat.
""only things seem just a little too pleasant to last."
""if willy fraser had had as much spunk as peter, miss cecily king might n't be so low spirited," quoth dan, significantly.
cecily tossed her head and disdained reply.
there are really some remarks a self-respecting young lady must ignore.
chapter iv.
new year resolutions if we did not have a white christmas we had a white new year.
midway between the two came a heavy snowfall.
it was winter in our orchard of old delights then, -- so truly winter that it was hard to believe summer had ever dwelt in it, or that spring would ever return to it.
there were no birds to sing the music of the moon; and the path where the apple blossoms had fallen were heaped with less fragrant drifts.
but it was a place of wonder on a moonlight night, when the snowy arcades shone like avenues of ivory and crystal, and the bare trees cast fairy-like traceries upon them.
over uncle stephen's walk, where the snow had fallen smoothly, a spell of white magic had been woven.
taintless and wonderful it seemed, like a street of pearl in the new jerusalem.
on new year's eve we were all together in uncle alec's kitchen, which was tacitly given over to our revels during the winter evenings.
the story girl and peter were there, of course, and sara ray's mother had allowed her to come up on condition that she should be home by eight sharp.
cecily was glad to see her, but the boys never hailed her arrival with over-much delight, because, since the dark began to come down early, aunt janet always made one of us walk down home with her.
we hated this, because sara ray was always so maddeningly self-conscious of having an escort.
we knew perfectly well that next day in school she would tell her chums as a "dead" secret that "so-and-so king saw her home" from the hill farm the night before.
now, seeing a young lady home from choice, and being sent home with her by your aunt or mother are two entirely different things, and we thought sara ray ought to have sense enough to know it.
outside there was a vivid rose of sunset behind the cold hills of fir, and the long reaches of snowy fields glowed fairily pink in the western light.
the drifts along the edges of the meadows and down the lane looked as if a series of breaking waves had, by the lifting of a magician's wand, been suddenly transformed into marble, even to their toppling curls of foam.
slowly the splendour died, giving place to the mystic beauty of a winter twilight when the moon is rising.
the hollow sky was a cup of blue.
the stars came out over the white glens and the earth was covered with a kingly carpet for the feet of the young year to press.
""i'm so glad the snow came," said the story girl.
""if it had n't the new year would have seemed just as dingy and worn out as the old.
there's something very solemn about the idea of a new year, is n't there?
just think of three hundred and sixty-five whole days, with not a thing happened in them yet."
""i do n't suppose anything very wonderful will happen in them," said felix pessimistically.
to felix, just then, life was flat, stale and unprofitable because it was his turn to go home with sara ray.
""it makes me a little frightened to think of all that may happen in them," said cecily.
""miss marwood says it is what we put into a year, not what we get out of it, that counts at last."
""i'm always glad to see a new year," said the story girl.
""i wish we could do as they do in norway.
the whole family sits up until midnight, and then, just as the clock is striking twelve, the father opens the door and welcomes the new year in.
is n't it a pretty custom?"
""if ma would let us stay up till twelve we might do that too," said dan, "but she never will.
i call it mean."
""if i ever have children i'll let them stay up to watch the new year in," said the story girl decidedly.
""so will i," said peter, "but other nights they'll have to go to bed at seven."
""you ought to be ashamed, speaking of such things," said felicity, with a scandalized face.
peter shrank into the background abashed, no doubt believing that he had broken some family guide precept all to pieces.
""i did n't know it was n't proper to mention children," he muttered apologetically.
""we ought to make some new year resolutions," suggested the story girl.
""new year's eve is the time to make them."
""i ca n't think of any resolutions i want to make," said felicity, who was perfectly satisfied with herself.
""i could suggest a few to you," said dan sarcastically.
""there are so many i would like to make," said cecily, "that i'm afraid it would n't be any use trying to keep them all."
""well, let's all make a few, just for the fun of it, and see if we can keep them," i said.
""and let's get paper and ink and write them out.
that will make them seem more solemn and binding."
""and then pin them up on our bedroom walls, where we'll see them every day," suggested the story girl, "and every time we break a resolution we must put a cross opposite it.
that will show us what progress we are making, as well as make us ashamed if we have too many crosses."
""and let's have a roll of honour in our magazine," suggested felix, "and every month we'll publish the names of those who keep their resolutions perfect."
""i think it's all nonsense," said felicity.
but she joined our circle around the table, though she sat for a long time with a blank sheet before her.
""let's each make a resolution in turn," i said.
""i'll lead off."
and, recalling with shame certain unpleasant differences of opinion i had lately had with felicity, i wrote down in my best hand, "i shall try to keep my temper always."
""you'd better," said felicity tactfully.
it was dan's turn next.
""i ca n't think of anything to start with," he said, gnawing his penholder fiercely.
""you might make a resolution not to eat poison berries," suggested felicity.
""you'd better make one not to nag people everlastingly," retorted dan.
""oh, do n't quarrel the last night of the old year," implored cecily.
""you might resolve not to quarrel any time," suggested sara ray.
""no, sir," said dan emphatically.
""there's no use making a resolution you ca n't keep.
there are people in this family you've just got to quarrel with if you want to live.
but i've thought of one -- i wo n't do things to spite people."
felicity -- who really was in an unbearable mood that night -- laughed disagreeably; but cecily gave her a fierce nudge, which probably restrained her from speaking.
""i will not eat any apples," wrote felix.
""what on earth do you want to give up eating apples for?"
asked peter in astonishment.
""never mind," returned felix.
""apples make people fat, you know," said felicity sweetly.
""it seems a funny kind of resolution," i said doubtfully.
""i think our resolutions ought to be giving up wrong things or doing right ones."
""you make your resolutions to suit yourself and i'll make mine to suit myself," said felix defiantly.
""i shall never get drunk," wrote peter painstakingly.
""but you never do," said the story girl in astonishment.
""well, it will be all the easier to keep the resolution," argued peter.
""that is n't fair," complained dan.
""if we all resolved not to do the things we never do we'd all be on the roll of honour."
""you let peter alone," said felicity severely.
""it's a very good resolution and one everybody ought to make."
""i shall not be jealous," wrote the story girl.
""but are you?"
i asked, surprised.
the story girl coloured and nodded.
""of one thing," she confessed, "but i'm not going to tell what it is."
""i'm jealous sometimes, too," confessed sara ray, "and so my first resolution will be" i shall try not to feel jealous when i hear the other girls in school describing all the sick spells they've had.""
""goodness, do you want to be sick?"
demanded felix in astonishment.
""it makes a person important," explained sara ray.
""i am going to try to improve my mind by reading good books and listening to older people," wrote cecily.
""you got that out of the sunday school paper," cried felicity.
""it does n't matter where i got it," said cecily with dignity.
""the main thing is to keep it."
""it's your turn, felicity," i said.
felicity tossed her beautiful golden head.
""i told you i was n't going to make any resolutions.
go on yourself."
""i shall always study my grammar lesson," i wrote -- i, who loathed grammar with a deadly loathing.
""i hate grammar too," sighed sara ray.
""it seems so unimportant."
sara was rather fond of a big word, but did not always get hold of the right one.
i rather suspected that in the above instance she really meant uninteresting.
""i wo n't get mad at felicity, if i can help it," wrote dan.
""i'm sure i never do anything to make you mad," exclaimed felicity.
""i do n't think it's polite to make resolutions about your sisters," said peter.
""he ca n't keep it anyway," scoffed felicity.
""he's got such an awful temper."
""it's a family failing," flashed dan, breaking his resolution ere the ink on it was dry.
""there you go," taunted felicity.
""i'll work all my arithmetic problems without any help," scribbled felix.
""i wish i could resolve that, too," sighed sara ray, "but it would n't be any use.
i'd never be able to do those compound multiplication sums the teacher gives us to do at home every night if i did n't get judy pineau to help me.
judy is n't a good reader and she ca n't spell at all, but you ca n't stick her in arithmetic as far as she went herself.
i feel sure," concluded poor sara, in a hopeless tone, "that i'll never be able to understand compound multiplication.""
"multiplication is vexation, division is as bad, the rule of three perplexes me, and fractions drive me mad,"" quoted dan.
""i have n't got as far as fractions yet," sighed sara, "and i hope i'll be too big to go to school before i do.
i hate arithmetic, but i am passionately fond of geography."
""i will not play tit-tat-x on the fly leaves of my hymn book in church," wrote peter.
""mercy, did you ever do such a thing?"
exclaimed felicity in horror.
peter nodded shamefacedly.
""yes -- that sunday mr. bailey preached.
he was so long-winded, i got awful tired, and, anyway, he was talking about things i could n't understand, so i played tit-tat-x with one of the markdale boys.
it was the day i was sitting up in the gallery."
""well, i hope if you ever do the like again you wo n't do it in our pew," said felicity severely.
""i ai n't going to do it at all," said peter.
""i felt sort of mean all the rest of the day."
""i shall try not to be vexed when people interrupt me when i'm telling stories," wrote the story girl.
""but it will be hard," she added with a sigh.
""i never mind being interrupted," said felicity.
""i shall try to be cheerful and smiling all the time," wrote cecily.
""you are, anyway," said sara ray loyally.
""i do n't believe we ought to be cheerful all the time," said the story girl.
""the bible says we ought to weep with those who weep."
""but maybe it means that we're to weep cheerfully," suggested cecily.
""sorter as if you were thinking, "i'm very sorry for you but i'm mighty glad i'm not in the scrape too,"" said dan.
""dan, do n't be irreverent," rebuked felicity.
""i know a story about old mr. and mrs. davidson of markdale," said the story girl.
""she was always smiling and it used to aggravate her husband, so one day he said very crossly, "old lady, what are you grinning at?"
"oh, well, abiram, everything's so bright and pleasant, i've just got to smile."
""not long after there came a time when everything went wrong -- the crop failed and their best cow died, and mrs. davidson had rheumatism; and finally mr. davidson fell and broke his leg.
but still mrs. davidson smiled.
"what in the dickens are you grinning about now, old lady?"
he demanded.
"oh, well, abiram," she said, "everything is so dark and unpleasant i've just got to smile."
"well," said the old man crossly," i think you might give your face a rest sometimes.""
""i shall not talk gossip," wrote sara ray with a satisfied air.
""oh, do n't you think that's a little too strict?"
asked cecily anxiously.
""of course, it's not right to talk mean gossip, but the harmless kind does n't hurt.
if i say to you that emmy macphail is going to get a new fur collar this winter, that is harmless gossip, but if i say i do n't see how emmy macphail can afford a new fur collar when her father ca n't pay my father for the oats he got from him, that would be mean gossip.
if i were you, sara, i'd put mean gossip."
sara consented to this amendment.
""i will be polite to everybody," was my third resolution, which passed without comment.
""i'll try not to use slang since cecily does n't like it," wrote dan.
""i think some slang is real cute," said felicity.
""the family guide says it's very vulgar," grinned dan.
""does n't it, sara stanley?"
""do n't disturb me," said the story girl dreamily.
""i'm just thinking a beautiful thought."
""i've thought of a resolution to make," cried felicity.
""mr. marwood said last sunday we should always try to think beautiful thoughts and then our lives would be very beautiful.
so i shall resolve to think a beautiful thought every morning before breakfast."
""can you only manage one a day?"
queried dan.
""and why before breakfast?"
i asked.
""because it's easier to think on an empty stomach," said peter, in all good faith.
but felicity shot a furious glance at him.
""i selected that time," she explained with dignity, "because when i'm brushing my hair before my glass in the morning i'll see my resolution and remember it."
""mr. marwood meant that all our thoughts ought to be beautiful," said the story girl.
""if they were, people would n't be afraid to say what they think."
""they ought n't to be afraid to, anyhow," said felix stoutly.
""i'm going to make a resolution to say just what i think always."
""and do you expect to get through the year alive if you do?"
asked dan.
""it might be easy enough to say what you think if you could always be sure just what you do think," said the story girl.
""so often i ca n't be sure."
""how would you like it if people always said just what they think to you?"
asked felicity.
""i'm not very particular what some people think of me," rejoined felix.
""i notice you do n't like to be told by anybody that you're fat," retorted felicity.
""oh, dear me, i do wish you would n't all say such sarcastic things to each other," said poor cecily plaintively.
""it sounds so horrid the last night of the old year.
dear knows where we'll all be this night next year.
peter, it's your turn."
""i will try," wrote peter, "to say my prayers every night regular, and not twice one night because i do n't expect to have time the next, -- like i did the night before the party," he added.
""i s "pose you never said your prayers until we got you to go to church," said felicity -- who had had no hand in inducing peter to go to church, but had stoutly opposed it, as recorded in the first volume of our family history.
""i did, too," said peter.
""aunt jane taught me to say my prayers.
ma had n't time, being as father had run away; ma had to wash at night same as in day-time."
""i shall learn to cook," wrote the story girl, frowning.
""you'd better resolve not to make puddings of --" began felicity, then stopped as suddenly as if she had bitten off the rest of her sentence and swallowed it.
cecily had nudged her, so she had probably remembered the story girl's threat that she would never tell another story if she was ever twitted with the pudding she had made from sawdust.
but we all knew what felicity had started to say and the story girl dealt her a most uncousinly glance.
""i will not cry because mother wo n't starch my aprons," wrote sara ray.
""better resolve not to cry about anything," said dan kindly.
sara ray shook her head forlornly.
""that would be too hard to keep.
there are times when i have to cry.
it's a relief."
""not to the folks who have to hear you," muttered dan aside to cecily.
""oh, hush," whispered cecily back.
""do n't go and hurt her feelings the last night of the old year.
is it my turn again?
well, i'll resolve not to worry because my hair is not curly.
but, oh, i'll never be able to help wishing it was."
""why do n't you curl it as you used to do, then?"
asked dan.
""you know very well that i've never put my hair up in curl papers since the time peter was dying of the measles," said cecily reproachfully.
""i resolved then i would n't because i was n't sure it was quite right."
""i will keep my finger-nails neat and clean," i wrote.
""there, that's four resolutions.
i'm not going to make any more.
four's enough."
""i shall always think twice before i speak," wrote felix.
""that's an awful waste of time," commented dan, "but i guess you'll need to if you're always going to say what you think."
""i'm going to stop with three," said peter.
""i will have all the good times i can," wrote the story girl.
""that's what i call sensible," said dan.
""it's a very easy resolution to keep, anyhow," commented felix.
""i shall try to like reading the bible," wrote sara ray.
""you ought to like reading the bible without trying to," exclaimed felicity.
""if you had to read seven chapters of it every time you were naughty i do n't believe you would like it either," retorted sara ray with a flash of spirit.
""i shall try to believe only half of what i hear," was cecily's concluding resolution.
""but which half?"
scoffed dan.
""the best half," said sweet cecily simply.
""i'll try to obey mother always," wrote sara ray, with a tremendous sigh, as if she fully realized the difficulty of keeping such a resolution.
""and that's all i'm going to make."
""felicity has only made one," said the story girl.
""i think it better to make just one and keep it than make a lot and break them," said felicity loftily.
she had the last word on the subject, for it was time for sara ray to go, and our circle broke up.
sara and felix departed and we watched them down the lane in the moonlight -- sara walking demurely in one runner track, and felix stalking grimly along in the other.
i fear the romantic beauty of that silver shining night was entirely thrown away on my mischievous brother.
and it was, as i remember it, a most exquisite night -- a white poem, a frosty, starry lyric of light.
it was one of those nights on which one might fall asleep and dream happy dreams of gardens of mirth and song, feeling all the while through one's sleep the soft splendour and radiance of the white moon-world outside, as one hears soft, far-away music sounding through the thoughts and words that are born of it.
as a matter of fact, however, cecily dreamed that night that she saw three full moons in the sky, and wakened up crying with the horror of it.
chapter v.
the first number of "our magazine" the first number of our magazine was ready on new year's day, and we read it that evening in the kitchen.
all our staff had worked nobly and we were enormously proud of the result, although dan still continued to scoff at a paper that was n't printed.
the story girl and i read it turnabout while the others, except felix, ate apples.
it opened with a short editorial with this number our magazine makes its first bow to the public.
all the editors have done their best and the various departments are full of valuable information and amusement.
the tastefully designed cover is by a famous artist, mr. blair stanley, who sent it to us all the way from europe at the request of his daughter.
mr. peter craig, our enterprising literary editor, contributes a touching love story.
-lrb- peter, aside, in a gratified pig's whisper: "i never was called "mr." before." -rrb-
miss felicity king's essays on shakespeare is none the worse for being an old school composition, as it is new to most of our readers.
miss cecily king contributes a thrilling article of adventure.
the various departments are ably edited, and we feel that we have reason to be proud of our magazine.
but we shall not rest on our oars.
""excelsior" shall ever be our motto.
we trust that each succeeding issue will be better than the one that went before.
we are well aware of many defects, but it is easier to see them than to remedy them.
any suggestion that would tend to the improvement of our magazine will be thankfully received, but we trust that no criticism will be made that will hurt anyone's feelings.
let us all work together in harmony, and strive to make our magazine an influence for good and a source of innocent pleasure, and let us always remember the words of the poet.
""the heights by great men reached and kept were not attained by sudden flight, but they, while their companions slept, were toiling upwards in the night."
-lrb- peter, impressively: -- "i've read many a worse editorial in the enterprise." -rrb-
essay on shakespeare shakespeare's full name was william shakespeare.
he did not always spell it the same way.
he lived in the reign of queen elizabeth and wrote a great many plays.
his plays are written in dialogue form.
some people think they were not written by shakespeare but by another man of the same name.
i have read some of them because our school teacher says everybody ought to read them, but i did not care much for them.
there are some things in them i can not understand.
i like the stories of valeria h. montague in the family guide ever so much better.
they are more exciting and truer to life.
romeo and juliet was one of the plays i read.
it was very sad.
juliet dies and i do n't like stories where people die.
i like it better when they all get married especially to dukes and earls.
shakespeare himself was married to anne hatheway.
they are both dead now.
they have been dead a good while.
he was a very famous man.
felicity king.
-lrb- peter, modestly: "i do n't know much about shakespeare myself but i've got a book of his plays that belonged to my aunt jane, and i guess i'll have to tackle him as soon as i finish with the bible." -rrb-
the story of an elopement from church this is a true story.
it happened in markdale to an uncle of my mothers.
he wanted to marry miss jemima parr.
felicity says jemima is not a romantic name for a heroin of a story but i cant help it in this case because it is a true story and her name realy was jemima.
my mothers uncle was named thomas taylor.
he was poor at that time and so the father of miss jemima parr did not want him for a soninlaw and told him he was not to come near the house or he would set the dog on him.
miss jemima parr was very pretty and my mothers uncle thomas was just crazy about her and she wanted him too.
she cried almost every night after her father forbid him to come to the house except the nights she had to sleep or she would have died.
and she was so frightened he might try to come for all and get tore up by the dog and it was a bull-dog too that would never let go.
but mothers uncle thomas was too cute for that.
he waited till one day there was preaching in the markdale church in the middle of the week because it was sacrament time and miss jemima parr and her family all went because her father was an elder.
my mothers uncle thomas went too and set in the pew just behind miss jemima parrs family.
when they all bowed their heads at prayer time miss jemima parr didnt but set bolt uprite and my mothers uncle thomas bent over and wispered in her ear.
i dont know what he said so i cant right it but miss jemima parr blushed that is turned red and nodded her head.
perhaps some people may think that my mothers uncle thomas shouldent of wispered at prayer time in church but you must remember that miss jemima parrs father had thretened to set the dog on him and that was hard lines when he was a respektable young man though not rich.
well when they were singing the last sam my mothers uncle thomas got up and went out very quitely and as soon as church was out miss jemima parr walked out too real quick.
her family never suspekted anything and they hung round talking to folks and shaking hands while miss jemima parr and my mothers uncle thomas were eloping outside.
and what do you suppose they eloped in.
why in miss jemima parrs fathers slay.
and when he went out they were gone and his slay was gone also his horse.
of course my mothers uncle thomas didnt steal the horse.
he just borroed it and sent it home the next day.
but before miss jemima parrs father could get another rig to follow them they were so far away he couldent catch them before they got married.
and they lived happy together forever afterwards.
mothers uncle thomas lived to be a very old man.
he died very suddent.
he felt quite well when he went to sleep and when he woke up he was dead.
peter craig.
my most exciting adventure the editor says we must all write up our most exciting adventure for our magazine.
my most exciting adventure happened a year ago last november.
i was nearly frightened to death.
dan says he would n't of been scared and felicity says she would of known what it was but it's easy to talk.
it happened the night i went down to see kitty marr.
i thought when i went that aunt olivia was visiting there and i could come home with her.
but she was n't there and i had to come home alone.
kitty came a piece of the way but she would n't come any further than uncle james frewen's gate.
she said it was because it was so windy she was afraid she would get the tooth-ache and not because she was frightened of the ghost of the dog that haunted the bridge in uncle james" hollow.
i did wish she had n't said anything about the dog because i might n't of thought about it if she had n't.
i had to go on alone thinking of it.
i'd heard the story often but i'd never believed in it.
they said the dog used to appear at one end of the bridge and walk across it with people and vanish when he got to the other end.
he never tried to bite anyone but one would n't want to meet the ghost of a dog even if one did n't believe in him.
i knew there was no such thing as ghosts and i kept saying a paraphrase over to myself and the golden text of the next sunday school lesson but oh, how my heart beat when i got near the hollow!
it was so dark.
you could just see things dim-like but you could n't see what they were.
when i got to the bridge i walked along sideways with my back to the railing so i could n't think the dog was behind me.
and then just in the middle of the bridge i met something.
it was right before me and it was big and black, just about the size of a newfoundland dog, and i thought i could see a white nose.
and it kept jumping about from one side of the bridge to the other.
oh, i hope none of my readers will ever be so frightened as i was then.
i was too frightened to run back because i was afraid it would chase me and i could n't get past it, it moved so quick, and then it just made one spring right on me and i felt its claws and i screamed and fell down.
it rolled off to one side and laid there quite quiet but i did n't dare move and i do n't know what would have become of me if amos cowan had n't come along that very minute with a lantern.
and there was me sitting in the middle of the bridge and that awful thing beside me.
and what do you think it was but a big umbrella with a white handle?
amos said it was his umbrella and it had blown away from him and he had to go back and get the lantern to look for it.
i felt like asking him what on earth he was going about with an umbrella open when it wasent raining.
but the cowans do such queer things.
you remember the time jerry cowan sold us god's picture.
amos took me right home and i was thankful for i do n't know what would have become of me if he had n't come along.
i could n't sleep all night and i never want to have any more adventures like that one.
cecily king.
personals mr. dan king felt somewhat indisposed the day after christmas -- probably as the result of too much mince pie.
-lrb- dan, indignantly: -- "i was n't.
i only et one piece!" -rrb-
mr. peter craig thinks he saw the family ghost on christmas eve.
but the rest of us think all he saw was the white calf with the red tail.
-lrb- peter, muttering sulkily: -- "it's a queer calf that would walk up on end and wring its hands." -rrb-
miss cecily king spent the night of dec. 20th with miss kitty marr.
they talked most of the night about new knitted lace patterns and their beaus and were very sleepy in school next day.
-lrb- cecily, sharply: -- "we never mentioned such things!" -rrb-
patrick grayfur, esq., was indisposed yesterday, but seems to be enjoying his usual health to-day.
the king family expect their aunt eliza to visit them in january.
she is really our great-aunt.
we have never seen her but we are told she is very deaf and does not like children.
so aunt janet says we must make ourselves scarece when she comes.
miss cecily king has undertaken to fill with names a square of the missionary quilt which the mission band is making.
you pay five cents to have your name embroidered in a corner, ten cents to have it in the centre, and a quarter if you want it left off altogether.
-lrb- cecily, indignantly: -- "that is n't the way at all." -rrb-
ads.
wanted -- a remedy to make a fat boy thin.
address, "patient sufferer, care of our magazine."
-lrb- felix, sourly: -- "sara ray never got that up.
i'll bet it was dan.
he'd better stick to his own department." -rrb-
household department mrs. alexander king killed all her geese the twentieth of december.
we all helped pick them.
we had one christmas day and will have one every fortnight the rest of the winter.
the bread was sour last week because mother would n't take my advice.
i told her it was too warm for it in the corner behind the stove.
miss felicity king invented a new recete for date cookies recently, which everybody said were excelent.
i am not going to publish it though, because i do n't want other people to find it out.
anxious inquirer: -- if you want to remove inkstains place the stain over steam and apply salt and lemon juice.
if it was dan who sent this question in i'd advise him to stop wiping his pen on his shirt sleeves and then he would n't have so many stains.
felicity king.
etiquette department f-l-x: -- yes, you should offer your arm to a lady when seeing her home, but do n't keep her standing too long at the gate while you say good night.
-lrb- felix, enraged: -- "i never asked such a question." -rrb-
c-c-l-y: -- no, it is not polite to use "holy moses" or "dodgasted" in ordinary conversation.
-lrb- cecily had gone down cellar to replenish the apple plate, so this passed without protest. -rrb-
s-r-a: -- no, it is n't polite to cry all the time.
as to whether you should ask a young man in, it all depends on whether he went home with you of his own accord or was sent by some elderly relative.
f-l-t-y: -- it does not break any rule of etiquette if you keep a button off your best young man's coat for a keepsake.
but do n't take more than one or his mother might miss them.
dan king.
fashion notes knitted mufflers are much more stylish than crocheted ones this winter.
it is nice to have one the same colour as your cap.
red mittens with a black diamond pattern on the back are much run after.
em frewen's grandma knits hers for her.
she can knit the double diamond pattern and em puts on such airs about it, but i think the single diamond is in better taste.
the new winter hats at markdale are very pretty.
it is so exciting to pick a hat.
boys ca n't have that fun.
their hats are so much alike.
cecily king.
funny paragraphs this is a true joke and really happened.
there was an old local preacher in new brunswick one time whose name was samuel clask.
he used to preach and pray and visit the sick just like a regular minister.
one day he was visiting a neighbour who was dying and he prayed the lord to have mercy on him because he was very poor and had worked so hard all his life that he had n't much time to attend to religion.
""and if you do n't believe me, o lord," mr. clask finished up with, "just take a look at his hands."
felix king.
general information bureau dan: -- do porpoises grow on trees or vines?
ans.
neither.
they inhabit the deep sea.
felix king.
-lrb- dan, aggrieved: -- "well, i'd never heard of porpoises and it sounded like something that grew.
but you need n't have gone and put it in the paper."
felix: -- "it is n't any worse than the things you put in about me that i never asked at all."
cecily, soothingly: -- "oh, well, boys, it's all in fun, and i think our magazine is perfectly elegant."
felicity, failing to see the story girl and beverley exchanging winks behind her back: -- "it certainly is, though some people were so opposed to starting it." -rrb-
what harmless, happy fooling it all was!
how we laughed as we read and listened and devoured apples!
blow high, blow low, no wind can ever quench the ruddy glow of that faraway winter night in our memories.
and though our magazine never made much of a stir in the world, or was the means of hatching any genius, it continued to be capital fun for us throughout the year.
chapter vi.
great-aunt eliza's visit it was a diamond winter day in february -- clear, cold, hard, brilliant.
the sharp blue sky shone, the white fields and hills glittered, the fringe of icicles around the eaves of uncle alec's house sparkled.
keen was the frost and crisp the snow over our world; and we young fry of the king households were all agog to enjoy life -- for was it not saturday, and were we not left all alone to keep house?
aunt janet and aunt olivia had had their last big "kill" of market poultry the day before; and early in the morning all our grown-ups set forth to charlottetown, to be gone the whole day.
they left us many charges as usual, some of which we remembered and some of which we forgot; but with felicity in command none of us dared stray far out of line.
the story girl and peter came over, of course, and we all agreed that we would haste and get the work done in the forenoon, that we might have an afternoon of uninterrupted enjoyment.
a taffy-pull after dinner and then a jolly hour of coasting on the hill field before supper were on our programme.
but disappointment was our portion.
we did manage to get the taffy made but before we could sample the result satisfactorily, and just as the girls were finishing with the washing of the dishes, felicity glanced out of the window and exclaimed in tones of dismay, "oh, dear me, here's great-aunt eliza coming up the lane!
now, is n't that too mean?"
we all looked out to see a tall, gray-haired lady approaching the house, looking about her with the slightly puzzled air of a stranger.
we had been expecting great-aunt eliza's advent for some weeks, for she was visiting relatives in markdale.
we knew she was liable to pounce down on us any time, being one of those delightful folk who like to "surprise" people, but we had never thought of her coming that particular day.
it must be confessed that we did not look forward to her visit with any pleasure.
none of us had ever seen her, but we knew she was very deaf, and had very decided opinions as to the way in which children should behave.
""whew!"
whistled dan.
""we're in for a jolly afternoon.
she's deaf as a post and we'll have to split our throats to make her hear at all.
i've a notion to skin out."
""oh, do n't talk like that, dan," said cecily reproachfully.
""she's old and lonely and has had a great deal of trouble.
she has buried three husbands.
we must be kind to her and do the best we can to make her visit pleasant."
""she's coming to the back door," said felicity, with an agitated glance around the kitchen.
""i told you, dan, that you should have shovelled the snow away from the front door this morning.
cecily, set those pots in the pantry quick -- hide those boots, felix -- shut the cupboard door, peter -- sara, straighten up the lounge.
she's awfully particular and ma says her house is always as neat as wax."
to do felicity justice, while she issued orders to the rest of us, she was flying busily about herself, and it was amazing how much was accomplished in the way of putting the kitchen in perfect order during the two minutes in which great-aunt eliza was crossing the yard.
""fortunately the sitting-room is tidy and there's plenty in the pantry," said felicity, who could face anything undauntedly with a well-stocked larder behind her.
further conversation was cut short by a decided rap at the door.
felicity opened it.
""why, how do you do, aunt eliza?"
she said loudly.
a slightly bewildered look appeared on aunt eliza's face.
felicity perceived she had not spoken loudly enough.
""how do you do, aunt eliza," she repeated at the top of her voice.
""come in -- we are glad to see you.
we've been looking for you for ever so long."
""are your father and mother at home?"
asked aunt eliza, slowly.
""no, they went to town today.
but they'll be home this evening."
""i'm sorry they're away," said aunt eliza, coming in, "because i can stay only a few hours."
""oh, that's too bad," shouted poor felicity, darting an angry glance at the rest of us, as if to demand why we did n't help her out.
""why, we've been thinking you'd stay a week with us anyway.
you must stay over sunday."
""i really ca n't.
i have to go to charlottetown tonight," returned aunt eliza.
""well, you'll take off your things and stay to tea, at least," urged felicity, as hospitably as her strained vocal chords would admit.
""yes, i think i'll do that.
i want to get acquainted with my -- my nephews and nieces," said aunt eliza, with a rather pleasant glance around our group.
if i could have associated the thought of such a thing with my preconception of great-aunt eliza i could have sworn there was a twinkle in her eye.
but of course it was impossible.
""wo n't you introduce yourselves, please?"
felicity shouted our names and great-aunt eliza shook hands all round.
she performed the duty grimly and i concluded i must have been mistaken about the twinkle.
she was certainly very tall and dignified and imposing -- altogether a great-aunt to be respected.
felicity and cecily took her to the spare room and then left her in the sitting-room while they returned to the kitchen, to discuss the matter in family conclave.
""well, and what do you think of dear aunt eliza?"
asked dan.
""s-s-s-sh," warned cecily, with a glance at the half-open hall door.
""pshaw," scoffed dan, "she ca n't hear us.
there ought to be a law against anyone being as deaf as that."
""she's not so old-looking as i expected," said felix.
""if her hair was n't so white she would n't look much older than your mother."
""you do n't have to be very old to be a great-aunt," said cecily.
""kitty marr has a great-aunt who is just the same age as her mother.
i expect it was burying so many husbands turned her hair white.
but aunt eliza does n't look just as i expected she would either."
""she's dressed more stylishly than i expected," said felicity.
""i thought she'd be real old-fashioned, but her clothes are n't too bad at all."
""she would n't be bad-looking if "twere n't for her nose," said peter.
""it's too long, and crooked besides."
""you need n't criticize our relations like that," said felicity tartly.
""well, are n't you doing it yourselves?"
expostulated peter.
""that's different," retorted felicity.
""never you mind great-aunt eliza's nose."
""well, do n't expect me to talk to her," said dan,"'cause i wo n't."
""i'm going to be very polite to her," said felicity.
""she's rich.
but how are we to entertain her, that's the question."
""what does the family guide say about entertaining your rich, deaf old aunt?"
queried dan ironically.
""the family guide says we should be polite to everybody," said cecily, with a reproachful look at dan.
""the worst of it is," said felicity, looking worried, "that there is n't a bit of old bread in the house and she ca n't eat new, i've heard father say.
it gives her indigestion.
what will we do?"
""make a pan of rusks and apologize for having no old bread," suggested the story girl, probably by way of teasing felicity.
the latter, however, took it in all good faith.
""the family guide says we should never apologize for things we ca n't help.
it says it's adding insult to injury to do it.
but you run over home for a loaf of stale bread, sara, and it's a good idea about the rusks.
i'll make a panful."
""let me make them," said the story girl, eagerly.
""i can make real good rusks now."
""no, it would n't do to trust you," said felicity mercilessly.
""you might make some queer mistake and aunt eliza would tell it all over the country.
she's a fearful old gossip.
i'll make the rusks myself.
she hates cats, so we must n't let paddy be seen.
and she's a methodist, so mind nobody says anything against methodists to her."
""who's going to say anything, anyhow?"
asked peter belligerently.
""i wonder if i might ask her for her name for my quilt square?"
speculated cecily.
""i believe i will.
she looks so much friendlier than i expected.
of course she'll choose the five-cent section.
she's an estimable old lady, but very economical."
""why do n't you say she's so mean she'd skin a flea for its hide and tallow?"
said dan.
""that's the plain truth."
""well, i'm going to see about getting tea," said felicity, "so the rest of you will have to entertain her.
you better go in and show her the photographs in the album.
dan, you do it."
""thank you, that's a girl's job," said dan.
""i'd look nice sitting up to aunt eliza and yelling out that this was uncle jim and "tother cousin sarah's twins, would n't i?
cecily or the story girl can do it."
""i do n't know all the pictures in your album," said the story girl hastily.
""i s "pose i'll have to do it, though i do n't like to," sighed cecily.
""but we ought to go in.
we've left her alone too long now.
she'll think we have no manners."
accordingly we all filed in rather reluctantly.
great-aunt eliza was toasting her toes -- clad, as we noted, in very smart and shapely shoes -- at the stove and looking quite at her ease.
cecily, determined to do her duty even in the face of such fearful odds as great-aunt eliza's deafness, dragged a ponderous, plush-covered album from its corner and proceeded to display and explain the family photographs.
she did her brave best but she could not shout like felicity, and half the time, as she confided to me later on, she felt that great-aunt eliza did not hear one word she said, because she did n't seem to take in who the people were, though, just like all deaf folks, she would n't let on.
great-aunt eliza certainly did n't talk much; she looked at the photographs in silence, but she smiled now and then.
that smile bothered me.
it was so twinkly and so very un-great-aunt-elizaish.
but i felt indignant with her.
i thought she might have shown a little more appreciation of cecily's gallant efforts to entertain.
it was very dull for the rest of us.
the story girl sat rather sulkily in her corner; she was angry because felicity would not let her make the rusks, and also, perhaps, a little vexed because she could not charm great-aunt eliza with her golden voice and story-telling gift.
felix and i looked at each other and wished ourselves out in the hill field, careering gloriously adown its gleaming crust.
but presently a little amusement came our way.
dan, who was sitting behind great-aunt eliza, and consequently out of her view, began making comments on cecily's explanation of this one and that one among the photographs.
in vain cecily implored him to stop.
it was too good fun to give up.
for the next half-hour the dialogue ran after this fashion, while peter and felix and i, and even the story girl, suffered agonies trying to smother our bursts of laughter -- for great-aunt eliza could see if she could n't hear: cecily, shouting: -- "that is mr. joseph elliott of markdale, a second cousin of mother's."
dan: -- "do n't brag of it, sis.
he's the man who was asked if somebody else said something in sincerity and old joe said "no, he said it in my cellar.""
cecily: -- "this is n't anybody in our family.
it's little xavy gautier who used to be hired with uncle roger."
dan: -- "uncle roger sent him to fix a gate one day and scolded him because he did n't do it right, and xavy was mad as hops and said "how you "spect me to fix dat gate?
i never learned jogerfy.""
cecily, with an anguished glance at dan: -- "this is great-uncle robert king."
dan: -- "he's been married four times.
do n't you think that's often enough, dear great-aunty?"
cecily: --" -lrb- dan!! -rrb-
this is a nephew of mr. ambrose marr's.
he lives out west and teaches school."
dan: -- "yes, and uncle roger says he does n't know enough not to sleep in a field with the gate open."
cecily: -- "this is miss julia stanley, who used to teach in carlisle a few years ago."
dan: -- "when she resigned the trustees had a meeting to see if they'd ask her to stay and raise her supplement.
old highland sandy was alive then and he got up and said, "if she for go let her for went.
perhaps she for marry.""
cecily, with the air of a martyr: -- "this is mr. layton, who used to travel around selling bibles and hymn books and talmage's sermons."
dan: -- "he was so thin uncle roger used to say he always mistook him for a crack in the atmosphere.
one time he stayed here all night and went to prayer meeting and mr. marwood asked him to lead in prayer.
it had been raining "most every day for three weeks, and it was just in haymaking time, and everybody thought the hay was going to be ruined, and old layton got up and prayed that god would send gentle showers on the growing crops, and i heard uncle roger whisper to a fellow behind me, "if somebody do n't choke him off we wo n't get the hay made this summer.""
cecily, in exasperation: --" -lrb- dan, shame on you for telling such irreverent stories. -rrb-
this is mrs. alexander scott of markdale.
she has been very sick for a long time."
dan: -- "uncle roger says all that keeps her alive is that she's scared her husband will marry again."
cecily: -- "this is old mr. james macpherson who used to live behind the graveyard."
dan: -- "he's the man who told mother once that he always made his own iodine out of strong tea and baking soda."
cecily: -- "this is cousin ebenezer macpherson on the markdale road."
dan: -- "great temperance man!
he never tasted rum in his life.
he took the measles when he was forty-five and was crazy as a loon with them, and the doctor ordered them to give him a dose of brandy.
when he swallowed it he looked up and says, solemn as an owl, "give it to me oftener and more at a time.""
cecily, imploringly: --" -lrb- dan, do stop.
you make me so nervous i do n't know what i'm doing. -rrb-
this is mr. lemuel goodridge.
he is a minister."
dan: -- "you ought to see his mouth.
uncle roger says the drawing string has fell out of it.
it just hangs loose -- so fashion."
dan, whose own mouth was far from being beautiful, here gave an imitation of the rev. lemuel's, to the utter undoing of peter, felix, and myself.
our wild guffaws of laughter penetrated even great-aunt eliza's deafness, and she glanced up with a startled face.
what we would have done i do not know had not felicity at that moment appeared in the doorway with panic-stricken eyes and exclaimed, "cecily, come here for a moment."
cecily, glad of even a temporary respite, fled to the kitchen and we heard her demanding what was the matter.
""matter!"
exclaimed felicity, tragically.
""matter enough!
some of you left a soup plate with molasses in it on the pantry table and pat got into it and what do you think?
he went into the spare room and walked all over aunt eliza's things on the bed.
you can see his tracks plain as plain.
what in the world can we do?
she'll be simply furious."
i looked apprehensively at great-aunt eliza; but she was gazing intently at a picture of aunt janet's sister's twins, a most stolid, uninteresting pair; but evidently great-aunt eliza found them amusing for she was smiling widely over them.
""let us take a little clean water and a soft bit of cotton," came cecily's clear voice from the kitchen, "and see if we ca n't clean the molasses off.
the coat and hat are both cloth, and molasses is n't like grease."
""well, we can try, but i wish the story girl would keep her cat home," grumbled felicity.
the story girl here flew out to defend her pet, and we four boys sat on, miserably conscious of great-aunt eliza, who never said a word to us, despite her previously expressed desire to become acquainted with us.
she kept on looking at the photographs and seemed quite oblivious of our presence.
presently the girls returned, having, as transpired later, been so successful in removing the traces of paddy's mischief that it was not deemed necessary to worry great-aunt eliza with any account of it.
felicity announced tea and, while cecily conveyed great-aunt eliza out to the dining-room, lingered behind to consult with us for a moment.
""ought we to ask her to say grace?"
she wanted to know.
""i know a story," said the story girl, "about uncle roger when he was just a young man.
he went to the house of a very deaf old lady and when they sat down to the table she asked him to say grace.
uncle roger had never done such a thing in his life and he turned as red as a beet and looked down and muttered, "e-r-r, please excuse me -- i -- i'm not accustomed to doing that."
then he looked up and the old lady said "amen," loudly and cheerfully.
she thought uncle roger was saying grace all the time."
""i do n't think it's right to tell funny stories about such things," said felicity coldly.
""and i asked for your opinion, not for a story."
""if we do n't ask her, felix must say it, for he's the only one who can, and we must have it, or she'd be shocked."
""oh, ask her -- ask her," advised felix hastily.
she was asked accordingly and said grace without any hesitation, after which she proceeded to eat heartily of the excellent supper felicity had provided.
the rusks were especially good and great-aunt eliza ate three of them and praised them.
apart from that she said little and during the first part of the meal we sat in embarrassed silence.
towards the last, however, our tongues were loosened, and the story girl told us a tragic tale of old charlottetown and a governor's wife who had died of a broken heart in the early days of the colony.
""they say that story is n't true," said felicity.
""they say what she really died of was indigestion.
the governor's wife who lives there now is a relation of our own.
she is a second cousin of father's but we've never seen her.
her name was agnes clark.
and mind you, when father was a young man he was dead in love with her and so was she with him."
""who ever told you that?"
exclaimed dan.
""aunt olivia.
and i've heard ma teasing father about it, too.
of course, it was before father got acquainted with mother."
""why did n't your father marry her?"
i asked.
""well, she just simply would n't marry him in the end.
she got over being in love with him.
i guess she was pretty fickle.
aunt olivia said father felt awful about it for awhile, but he got over it when he met ma.
ma was twice as good-looking as agnes clark.
agnes was a sight for freckles, so aunt olivia says.
but she and father remained real good friends.
just think, if she had married him we would have been the children of the governor's wife."
""but she would n't have been the governor's wife then," said dan.
""i guess it's just as good being father's wife," declared cecily loyally.
""you might think so if you saw the governor," chuckled dan.
""uncle roger says it would be no harm to worship him because he does n't look like anything in the heavens above or on the earth beneath or the waters under the earth."
""oh, uncle roger just says that because he's on the opposite side of politics," said cecily.
""the governor is n't really so very ugly.
i saw him at the markdale picnic two years ago.
he's very fat and bald and red-faced, but i've seen far worse looking men."
""i'm afraid your seat is too near the stove, aunt eliza," shouted felicity.
our guest, whose face was certainly very much flushed, shook her head.
""oh, no, i'm very comfortable," she said.
but her voice had the effect of making us uncomfortable.
there was a queer, uncertain little sound in it.
was great-aunt eliza laughing at us?
we looked at her sharply but her face was very solemn.
only her eyes had a suspicious appearance.
somehow, we did not talk much more the rest of the meal.
when it was over great-aunt eliza said she was very sorry but she must really go.
felicity politely urged her to stay, but was much relieved when great-aunt eliza adhered to her intention of going.
when felicity took her to the spare room cecily slipped upstairs and presently came back with a little parcel in her hand.
""what have you got there?"
demanded felicity suspiciously.
""a -- a little bag of rose-leaves," faltered cecily.
""i thought i'd give them to aunt eliza."
""the idea!
do n't you do such a thing," said felicity contemptuously.
""she'd think you were crazy."
""she was awfully nice when i asked her for her name for the quilt," protested cecily, "and she took a ten-cent section after all.
so i'd like to give her the rose-leaves -- and i'm going to, too, miss felicity."
great-aunt eliza accepted the little gift quite graciously, bade us all good-bye, said she had enjoyed herself very much, left messages for father and mother, and finally betook herself away.
we watched her cross the yard, tall, stately, erect, and disappear down the lane.
then, as often aforetime, we gathered together in the cheer of the red hearth-flame, while outside the wind of a winter twilight sang through fair white valleys brimmed with a reddening sunset, and a faint, serene, silver-cold star glimmered over the willow at the gate.
""well," said felicity, drawing a relieved breath, "i'm glad she's gone.
she certainly is queer, just as mother said."
""it's a different kind of queerness from what i expected, though," said the story girl meditatively.
""there's something i ca n't quite make out about aunt eliza.
i do n't think i altogether like her."
""i'm precious sure i do n't," said dan.
""oh, well, never mind.
she's gone now and that's the last of it," said cecily comfortingly.
but it was n't the last of it -- not by any manner of means was it!
when our grown-ups returned almost the first words aunt janet said were, "and so you had the governor's wife to tea?"
we all stared at her.
""i do n't know what you mean," said felicity.
""we had nobody to tea except great-aunt eliza.
she came this afternoon and --" "great-aunt eliza?
nonsense," said aunt janet.
""aunt eliza was in town today.
she had tea with us at aunt louisa's.
but was n't mrs. governor lesley here?
we met her on her way back to charlottetown and she told us she was.
she said she was visiting a friend in carlisle and thought she'd call to see father for old acquaintance sake.
what in the world are all you children staring like that for?
your eyes are like saucers."
""there was a lady here to tea," said felicity miserably, "but we thought it was great-aunt eliza -- she never said she was n't -- i thought she acted queer -- and we all yelled at her as if she was deaf -- and said things to each other about her nose -- and pat running over her clothes --" "she must have heard all you said while i was showing her the photographs, dan," cried cecily.
""and about the governor at tea time," chuckled unrepentant dan.
""i want to know what all this means," said aunt janet sternly.
she knew in due time, after she had pieced the story together from our disjointed accounts.
she was horrified, and uncle alec was mildly disturbed, but uncle roger roared with laughter and aunt olivia echoed it.
""to think you should have so little sense!"
said aunt janet in a disgusted tone.
""i think it was real mean of her to pretend she was deaf," said felicity, almost on the verge of tears.
""that was agnes clark all over," chuckled uncle roger.
""how she must have enjoyed this afternoon!"
she had enjoyed it, as we learned the next day, when a letter came from her.
""dear cecily and all the rest of you," wrote the governor's wife, "i want to ask you to forgive me for pretending to be aunt eliza.
i suspect it was a little horrid of me, but really i could n't resist the temptation, and if you will forgive me for it i will forgive you for the things you said about the governor, and we will all be good friends.
you know the governor is a very nice man, though he has the misfortune not to be handsome.
""i had just a splendid time at your place, and i envy your aunt eliza her nephews and nieces.
you were all so nice to me, and i did n't dare to be a bit nice to you lest i should give myself away.
but i'll make up for that when you come to see me at government house, as you all must the very next time you come to town.
i'm so sorry i did n't see paddy, for i love pussy cats, even if they do track molasses over my clothes.
and, cecily, thank you ever so much for that little bag of pot-pourri.
it smells like a hundred rose gardens, and i have put it between the sheets for my very sparest room bed, where you shall sleep when you come to see me, you dear thing.
and the governor wants you to put his name on the quilt square, too, in the ten-cent section.
""tell dan i enjoyed his comments on the photographs very much.
they were quite a refreshing contrast to the usual explanations of "who's who."
and felicity, your rusks were perfection.
do send me your recipe for them, there's a darling.
""yours most cordially, agnes clark lesley.
""well, it was decent of her to apologize, anyhow," commented dan.
""if we only had n't said that about the governor," moaned felicity.
""how did you make your rusks?"
asked aunt janet.
""there was no baking-powder in the house, and i never could get them right with soda and cream of tartar."
""there was plenty of baking-powder in the pantry," said felicity.
""no, there was n't a particle.
i used the last making those cookies thursday morning."
""but i found another can nearly full, away back on the top shelf, ma, -- the one with the yellow label.
i guess you forgot it was there."
aunt janet stared at her pretty daughter blankly.
then amazement gave place to horror.
""felicity king!"
she exclaimed.
""you do n't mean to tell me that you raised those rusks with the stuff that was in that old yellow can?"
""yes, i did," faltered felicity, beginning to look scared.
""why, ma, what was the matter with it?"
""matter!
that stuff was tooth-powder, that's what it was.
your cousin myra broke the bottle her tooth-powder was in when she was here last winter and i gave her that old can to keep it in.
she forgot to take it when she went away and i put it on that top shelf.
i declare you must all have been bewitched yesterday."
poor, poor felicity!
if she had not always been so horribly vain over her cooking and so scornfully contemptuous of other people's aspirations and mistakes along that line, i could have found it in my heart to pity her.
the story girl would have been more than human if she had not betrayed a little triumphant amusement, but peter stood up for his lady manfully.
""the rusks were splendid, anyhow, so what difference does it make what they were raised with?"
dan, however, began to taunt felicity with her tooth-powder rusks, and kept it up for the rest of his natural life.
""do n't forget to send the governor's wife the recipe for them," he said.
felicity, with eyes tearful and cheeks crimson from mortification, rushed from the room, but never, never did the governor's wife get the recipe for those rusks.
chapter vii.
we visit cousin mattie's one saturday in march we walked over to baywater, for a long-talked-of visit to cousin mattie dilke.
by the road, baywater was six miles away, but there was a short cut across hills and fields and woods which was scantly three.
we did not look forward to our visit with any particular delight, for there was nobody at cousin mattie's except grown-ups who had been grown up so long that it was rather hard for them to remember they had ever been children.
but, as felicity told us, it was necessary to visit cousin mattie at least once a year, or else she would be "huffed," so we concluded we might as well go and have it over.
""anyhow, we'll get a splendiferous dinner," said dan.
""cousin mattie's a great cook and there's nothing stingy about her."
""you are always thinking of your stomach," said felicity pleasantly.
""well, you know i could n't get along very well without it, darling," responded dan who, since new year's, had adopted a new method of dealing with felicity -- whether by way of keeping his resolution or because he had discovered that it annoyed felicity far more than angry retorts, deponent sayeth not.
he invariably met her criticisms with a good-natured grin and a flippant remark with some tender epithet tagged on to it.
poor felicity used to get hopelessly furious over it.
uncle alec was dubious about our going that day.
he looked abroad on the general dourness of gray earth and gray air and gray sky, and said a storm was brewing.
but cousin mattie had been sent word that we were coming, and she did not like to be disappointed, so he let us go, warning us to stay with cousin mattie all night if the storm came on while we were there.
we enjoyed our walk -- even felix enjoyed it, although he had been appointed to write up the visit for our magazine and was rather weighed down by the responsibility of it.
what mattered it though the world were gray and wintry?
we walked the golden road and carried spring time in our hearts, and we beguiled our way with laughter and jest, and the tales the story girl told us -- myths and legends of elder time.
the walking was good, for there had lately been a thaw and everything was frozen.
we went over fields, crossed by spidery trails of gray fences, where the withered grasses stuck forlornly up through the snow; we lingered for a time in a group of hill pines, great, majestic tree-creatures, friends of evening stars; and finally struck into the belt of fir and maple which intervened between carlisle and baywater.
it was in this locality that peg bowen lived, and our way lay near her house though not directly in sight of it.
we hoped we would not meet her, for since the affair of the bewitchment of paddy we did not know quite what to think of peg; the boldest of us held his breath as we passed her haunts, and drew it again with a sigh of relief when they were safely left behind.
the woods were full of the brooding stillness that often precedes a storm, and the wind crept along their white, cone-sprinkled floors with a low, wailing cry.
around us were solitudes of snow, arcades picked out in pearl and silver, long avenues of untrodden marble whence sprang the cathedral columns of the firs.
we were all sorry when we were through the woods and found ourselves looking down into the snug, commonplace, farmstead-dotted settlement of baywater.
""there's cousin mattie's house -- that big white one at the turn of the road," said the story girl.
""i hope she has that dinner ready, dan.
i'm hungry as a wolf after our walk."
""i wish cousin mattie's husband was still alive," said dan.
""he was an awful nice old man.
he always had his pockets full of nuts and apples.
i used to like going there better when he was alive.
too many old women do n't suit me."
""oh, dan, cousin mattie and her sisters-in-law are just as nice and kind as they can be," reproached cecily.
""oh, they're kind enough, but they never seem to see that a fellow gets over being five years old if he only lives long enough," retorted dan.
""i know a story about cousin mattie's husband," said the story girl.
""his name was ebenezer, you know --" "is it any wonder he was thin and stunted looking?"
said dan.
""ebenezer is just as nice a name as daniel," said felicity.
""do you really think so, my angel?"
inquired dan, in honey-sweet tones.
""go on.
remember your second resolution," i whispered to the story girl, who was stalking along with an outraged expression.
the story girl swallowed something and went on.
""cousin ebenezer had a horror of borrowing.
he thought it was simply a dreadful disgrace to borrow anything.
well, you know he and cousin mattie used to live in carlisle, where the rays now live.
this was when grandfather king was alive.
one day cousin ebenezer came up the hill and into the kitchen where all the family were.
uncle roger said he looked as if he had been stealing sheep.
he sat for a whole hour in the kitchen and hardly spoke a word, but just looked miserable.
at last he got up and said in a desperate sort of way, "uncle abraham, can i speak with you in private for a minute?"
"oh, certainly," said grandfather, and took him into the parlour.
cousin ebenezer shut the door, looked all around him and then said imploringly, "more private still."
so grandfather took him into the spare room and shut that door.
he was getting frightened.
he thought something terrible must have happened cousin ebenezer.
cousin ebenezer came right up to grandfather, took hold of the lapel of his coat, and said in a whisper, "uncle abraham, can -- you -- lend -- me -- an -- axe?""
""he need n't have made such a mystery about it," said cecily, who had missed the point entirely, and could n't see why the rest of us were laughing.
but cecily was such a darling that we did not mind her lack of a sense of humour.
""it's kind of mean to tell stories like that about people who are dead," said felicity.
""sometimes it's safer than when they're alive though, sweetheart," commented dan.
we had our expected good dinner at cousin mattie's -- may it be counted unto her for righteousness.
she and her sisters-in-law, miss louisa jane and miss caroline, were very kind to us.
we had quite a nice time, although i understood why dan objected to them when they patted us all on the head and told us whom we resembled and gave us peppermint lozenges.
chapter viii.
we visit peg bowen we left cousin mattie's early, for it still looked like a storm, though no more so than it had in the morning.
we intended to go home by a different path -- one leading through cleared land overgrown with scrub maple, which had the advantage of being farther away from peg bowen's house.
we hoped to be home before it began to storm, but we had hardly reached the hill above the village when a fine, driving snow began to fall.
it would have been wiser to have turned back even then; but we had already come a mile and we thought we would have ample time to reach home before it became really bad.
we were sadly mistaken; by the time we had gone another half-mile we were in the thick of a bewildering, blinding snowstorm.
but it was by now just as far back to cousin mattie's as it was to uncle alec's, so we struggled on, growing more frightened at every step.
we could hardly face the stinging snow, and we could not see ten feet ahead of us.
it had turned bitterly cold and the tempest howled all around us in white desolation under the fast-darkening night.
the narrow path we were trying to follow soon became entirely obliterated and we stumbled blindly on, holding to each other, and trying to peer through the furious whirl that filled the air.
our plight had come upon us so suddenly that we could not realize it.
presently peter, who was leading the van because he was supposed to know the path best, stopped.
""i ca n't see the road any longer," he shouted.
""i do n't know where we are."
we all stopped and huddled together in a miserable group.
fear filled our hearts.
it seemed ages ago that we had been snug and safe and warm at cousin mattie's.
cecily began to cry with cold.
dan, in spite of her protests, dragged off his overcoat and made her put it on.
""we ca n't stay here," he said.
""we'll all freeze to death if we do.
come on -- we've got to keep moving.
the snow ai n't so deep yet.
take hold of my hand, cecily.
we must all hold together.
come, now."
""it wo n't be nice to be frozen to death, but if we get through alive think what a story we'll have to tell," said the story girl between her chattering teeth.
in my heart i did not believe we would ever get through alive.
it was almost pitch dark now, and the snow grew deeper every moment.
we were chilled to the heart.
i thought how nice it would be to lie down and rest; but i remembered hearing that that was fatal, and i endeavoured to stumble on with the others.
it was wonderful how the girls kept up, even cecily.
it occurred to me to be thankful that sara ray was not with us.
but we were wholly lost now.
all around us was a horror of great darkness.
suddenly felicity fell.
we dragged her up, but she declared she could not go on -- she was done out.
""have you any idea where we are?"
shouted dan to peter.
""no," peter shouted back, "the wind is blowing every which way.
i have n't any idea where home is."
home!
would we ever see it again?
we tried to urge felicity on, but she only repeated drowsily that she must lie down and rest.
cecily, too, was reeling against me.
the story girl still stood up staunchly and counselled struggling on, but she was numb with cold and her words were hardly distinguishable.
some wild idea was in my mind that we must dig a hole in the snow and all creep into it.
i had read somewhere that people had thus saved their lives in snowstorms.
suddenly felix gave a shout.
""i see a light," he cried.
""where?
where?"
we all looked but could see nothing.
""i do n't see it now but i saw it a moment ago," shouted felix.
""i'm sure i did.
come on -- over in this direction."
inspired with fresh hope we hurried after him.
soon we all saw the light -- and never shone a fairer beacon.
a few more steps and, coming into the shelter of the woodland on the further side, we realized where we were.
""that's peg bowen's house," exclaimed peter, stopping short in dismay.
""i do n't care whose house it is," declared dan.
""we've got to go to it."
""i s "pose so," acquiesced peter ruefully.
""we ca n't freeze to death even if she is a witch."
""for goodness" sake do n't say anything about witches so close to her house," gasped felicity.
""i'll be thankful to get in anywhere."
we reached the house, climbed the flight of steps that led to that mysterious second story door, and dan rapped.
the door opened promptly and peg bowen stood before us, in what seemed exactly the same costume she had worn on the memorable day when we had come, bearing gifts, to propitiate her in the matter of paddy.
""behind her was a dim room scantly illumined by the one small candle that had guided us through the storm; but the old waterloo stove was colouring the gloom with tremulous, rose-red whorls of light, and warm and cosy indeed seemed peg's retreat to us snow-covered, frost-chilled, benighted wanderers.
""gracious goodness, where did yez all come from?"
exclaimed peg.
""did they turn yez out?"
""we've been over to baywater, and we got lost in the storm coming back," explained dan.
""we did n't know where we were till we saw your light.
i guess we'll have to stay here till the storm is over -- if you do n't mind."
""and if it wo n't inconvenience you," said cecily timidly.
""oh, it's no inconvenience to speak of.
come in.
well, yez have got some snow on yez.
let me get a broom.
you boys stomp your feet well and shake your coats.
you girls give me your things and i'll hang them up.
guess yez are most froze.
well, sit up to the stove and git het up."
peg bustled away to gather up a dubious assortment of chairs, with backs and rungs missing, and in a few minutes we were in a circle around her roaring stove, getting dried and thawed out.
in our wildest flights of fancy we had never pictured ourselves as guests at the witch's hearth-stone.
yet here we were; and the witch herself was actually brewing a jorum of ginger tea for cecily, who continued to shiver long after the rest of us were roasted to the marrow.
poor sis drank that scalding draught, being in too great awe of peg to do aught else.
""that'll soon fix your shivers," said our hostess kindly.
""and now i'll get yez all some tea."
""oh, please do n't trouble," said the story girl hastily."
"tai n't any trouble," said peg briskly; then, with one of the sudden changes to fierceness which made her such a terrifying personage, "do yez think my vittels ai n't clean?"
""oh, no, no," cried felicity quickly, before the story girl could speak, "none of us would ever think that.
sara only meant she did n't want you to go to any bother on our account."
""it ai n't any bother," said peg, mollified.
""i'm spry as a cricket this winter, though i have the realagy sometimes.
many a good bite i've had in your ma's kitchen.
i owe yez a meal."
no more protests were made.
we sat in awed silence, gazing with timid curiosity about the room, the stained, plastered walls of which were well-nigh covered with a motley assortment of pictures, chromos, and advertisements, pasted on without much regard for order or character.
we had heard much of peg's pets and now we saw them.
six cats occupied various cosy corners; one of them, the black goblin which had so terrified us in the summer, blinked satirically at us from the centre of peg's bed.
another, a dilapidated, striped beastie, with both ears and one eye gone, glared at us from the sofa in the corner.
a dog, with only three legs, lay behind the stove; a crow sat on a roost above our heads, in company with a matronly old hen; and on the clock shelf were a stuffed monkey and a grinning skull.
we had heard that a sailor had given peg the monkey.
but where had she got the skull?
and whose was it?
i could not help puzzling over these gruesome questions.
presently tea was ready and we gathered around the festal board -- a board literally as well as figuratively, for peg's table was the work of her own unskilled hands.
the less said about the viands of that meal, and the dishes they were served in, the better.
but we ate them -- bless you, yes!
-- as we would have eaten any witch's banquet set before us.
peg might or might not be a witch -- common sense said not; but we knew she was quite capable of turning every one of us out of doors in one of her sudden fierce fits if we offended her; and we had no mind to trust ourselves again to that wild forest where we had fought a losing fight with the demon forces of night and storm.
but it was not an agreeable meal in more ways than one.
peg was not at all careful of anybody's feelings.
she hurt felix's cruelly as she passed him his cup of tea.
""you've gone too much to flesh, boy.
so the magic seed did n't work, hey?"
how in the world had peg found out about that magic seed?
felix looked uncommonly foolish.
""if you'd come to me in the first place i'd soon have told you how to get thin," said peg, nodding wisely.
""wo n't you tell me now?"
asked felix eagerly, his desire to melt his too solid flesh overcoming his dread and shame.
""no, i do n't like being second fiddle," answered peg with a crafty smile.
""sara, you're too scrawny and pale -- not much like your ma.
i knew her well.
she was counted a beauty, but she made no great things of a match.
your father had some money but he was a tramp like meself.
where is he now?"
""in rome," said the story girl rather shortly.
""people thought your ma was crazy when she took him.
but she'd a right to please herself.
folks is too ready to call other folks crazy.
there's people who say i'm not in my right mind.
did yez ever" -- peg fixed felicity with a piercing glance -- "hear anything so ridiculous?"
""never," said felicity, white to the lips.
""i wish everybody was as sane as i am," said peg scornfully.
then she looked poor felicity over critically.
""you're good-looking but proud.
and your complexion wo n't wear.
it'll be like your ma's yet -- too much red in it."
""well, that's better than being the colour of mud," muttered peter, who was n't going to hear his lady traduced, even by a witch.
all the thanks he got was a furious look from felicity, but peg had not heard him and now she turned her attention to cecily.
""you look delicate.
i daresay you'll never live to grow up."
cecily's lip trembled and dan's face turned crimson.
""shut up," he said to peg.
""you've no business to say such things to people."
i think my jaw dropped.
i know peter's and felix's did.
felicity broke in wildly.
""oh, do n't mind him, miss bowen.
he's got such a temper -- that's just the way he talks to us all at home.
please excuse him."
""bless you, i do n't mind him," said peg, from whom the unexpected seemed to be the thing to expect.
""i like a lad of spurrit.
and so your father run away, did he, peter?
he used to be a beau of mine -- he seen me home three times from singing school when we was young.
some folks said he did it for a dare.
there's such a lot of jealousy in the world, ai n't there?
do you know where he is now?"
""no," said peter.
""well, he's coming home before long," said peg mysteriously.
""who told you that?"
cried peter in amazement.
""better not ask," responded peg, looking up at the skull.
if she meant to make the flesh creep on our bones she succeeded.
but now, much to our relief, the meal was over and peg invited us to draw our chairs up to the stove again.
""make yourselves at home," she said, producing her pipe from her pocket.
""i ai n't one of the kind who thinks their houses too good to live in.
guess i wo n't bother washing the dishes.
they'll do yez for breakfast if yez do n't forget your places.
i s "pose none of yez smokes."
""no," said felicity, rather primly.
""then yez do n't know what's good for yez," retorted peg, rather grumpily.
but a few whiffs of her pipe placated her and, observing cecily sigh, she asked her kindly what was the matter.
""i'm thinking how worried they'll be at home about us," explained cecily.
""bless you, dearie, do n't be worrying over that.
i'll send them word that yez are all snug and safe here."
""but how can you?"
cried amazed cecily.
""better not ask," said peg again, with another glance at the skull.
an uncomfortable silence followed, finally broken by peg, who introduced her pets to us and told how she had come by them.
the black cat was her favourite.
""that cat knows more than i do, if yez'll believe it," she said proudly.
""i've got a rat too, but he's a bit shy when strangers is round.
your cat got all right again that time, did n't he?"
""yes," said the story girl.
""thought he would," said peg, nodding sagely.
""i seen to that.
now, do n't yez all be staring at the hole in my dress."
""we were n't," was our chorus of protest.
""looked as if yez were.
i tore that yesterday but i did n't mend it.
i was brought up to believe that a hole was an accident but a patch was a disgrace.
and so your aunt olivia is going to be married after all?"
this was news to us.
we felt and looked dazed.
""i never heard anything of it," said the story girl.
""oh, it's true enough.
she's a great fool.
i've no faith in husbands.
but one good thing is she ai n't going to marry that henry jacobs of markdale.
he wants her bad enough.
just like his presumption, -- thinking himself good enough for a king.
his father is the worst man alive.
he chased me off his place with his dog once.
but i'll get even with him yet."
peg looked very savage, and visions of burned barns floated through our minds.
""he'll be punished in hell, you know," said peter timidly.
""but i wo n't be there to see that," rejoined peg.
""some folks say i'll go there because i do n't go to church oftener.
but i do n't believe it."
""why do n't you go?"
asked peter, with a temerity that bordered on rashness.
""well, i've got so sunburned i'm afraid folks might take me for an injun," explained peg, quite seriously.
""besides, your minister makes such awful long prayers.
why does he do it?"
""i suppose he finds it easier to talk to god than to people," suggested peter reflectively.
""well, anyway, i belong to the round church," said peg comfortably, "and so the devil ca n't catch me at the corners.
i have n't been to carlisle church for over three years.
i thought i'd a-died laughing the last time i was there.
old elder marr took up the collection that day.
he'd on a pair of new boots and they squeaked all the way up and down the aisles.
and every time the boots squeaked the elder made a face, like he had toothache.
it was awful funny.
how's your missionary quilt coming on, cecily?"
was there anything peg did n't know?
""very well," said cecily.
""you can put my name on it, if you want to."
""oh, thank you.
which section -- the five-cent one or the ten-cent one?"
asked cecily timidly.
""the ten-cent one, of course.
the best is none too good for me.
i'll give you the ten cents another time.
i'm short of change just now -- not being as rich as queen victory.
there's her picture up there -- the one with the blue sash and diamint crown and the lace curting on her head.
can any of yez tell me this -- is queen victory a married woman?"
""oh, yes, but her husband is dead," answered the story girl.
""well, i s "pose they could n't have called her an old maid, seeing she was a queen, even if she'd never got married.
sometimes i sez to myself, "peg, would you like to be queen victory?"
but i never know what to answer.
in summer, when i can roam anywhere in the woods and the sunshine -- i would n't be queen victory for anything.
but when it's winter and cold and i ca n't git nowheres -- i feel as if i would n't mind changing places with her."
peg put her pipe back in her mouth and began to smoke fiercely.
the candle wick burned long, and was topped by a little cap of fiery red that seemed to wink at us like an impish gnome.
the most grotesque shadow of peg flickered over the wall behind her.
the one-eyed cat remitted his grim watch and went to sleep.
outside the wind screamed like a ravening beast at the window.
suddenly peg removed her pipe from her mouth, bent forward, gripped my wrist with her sinewy fingers until i almost cried out with pain, and gazed straight into my face.
i felt horribly frightened of her.
she seemed an entirely different creature.
a wild light was in her eyes, a furtive, animal-like expression was on her face.
when she spoke it was in a different voice and in different language.
""do you hear the wind?"
she asked in a thrilling whisper.
""what is the wind?
what is the wind?"
""i -- i -- do n't know," i stammered.
""no more do i," said peg, "and nobody knows.
nobody knows what the wind is.
i wish i could find out.
i might n't be so afraid of the wind if i knew what it was.
i am afraid of it.
when the blasts come like that i want to crouch down and hide me.
but i can tell you one thing about the wind -- it's the only free thing in the world -- the -- only -- free -- thing.
everything else is subject to some law, but the wind is free.
it bloweth where it listeth and no man can tame it.
it's free -- that's why i love it, though i'm afraid of it.
it's a grand thing to be free -- free free -- free!"
peg's voice rose almost to a shriek.
we were dreadfully frightened, for we knew there were times when she was quite crazy and we feared one of her "spells" was coming on her.
but with a swift movement she turned the man's coat she wore up over her shoulders and head like a hood, completely hiding her face.
then she crouched forward, elbows on knees, and relapsed into silence.
none of us dared speak or move.
we sat thus for half an hour.
then peg jumped up and said briskly in her usual tone, "well, i guess yez are all sleepy and ready for bed.
you girls can sleep in my bed over there, and i'll take the sofy.
yez can put the cat off if yez like, though he wo n't hurt yez.
you boys can go downstairs.
there's a big pile of straw there that'll do yez for a bed, if yez put your coats on.
i'll light yez down, but i ai n't going to leave yez a light for fear yez'd set fire to the place."
saying good-night to the girls, who looked as if they thought their last hour was come, we went to the lower room.
it was quite empty, save for a pile of fire wood and another of clean straw.
casting a stealthy glance around, ere peg withdrew the light, i was relieved to see that there were no skulls in sight.
we four boys snuggled down in the straw.
we did not expect to sleep, but we were very tired and before we knew it our eyes were shut, to open no more till morning.
the poor girls were not so fortunate.
they always averred they never closed an eye.
four things prevented them from sleeping.
in the first place peg snored loudly; in the second place the fitful gleams of firelight kept flickering over the skull for half the night and making gruesome effects on it; in the third place peg's pillows and bedclothes smelled rankly of tobacco smoke; and in the fourth place they were afraid the rat peg had spoken of might come out to make their acquaintance.
indeed, they were sure they heard him skirmishing about several times.
when we wakened in the morning the storm was over and a young morning was looking through rosy eyelids across a white world.
the little clearing around peg's cabin was heaped with dazzling drifts, and we boys fell to and shovelled out a road to her well.
she gave us breakfast -- stiff oatmeal porridge without milk, and a boiled egg apiece.
cecily could not eat her porridge; she declared she had such a bad cold that she had no appetite; a cold she certainly had; the rest of us choked our messes down and after we had done so peg asked us if we had noticed a soapy taste.
""the soap fell into the porridge while i was making it," she said.
""but," -- smacking her lips, -- "i'm going to make yez an irish stew for dinner.
it'll be fine."
an irish stew concocted by peg!
no wonder dan said hastily, "you are very kind but we'll have to go right home."
""yez ca n't walk," said peg.
""oh, yes, we can.
the drifts are so hard they'll carry, and the snow will be pretty well blown off the middle of the fields.
it's only three-quarters of a mile.
we boys will go home and get a pung and come back for you girls."
but the girls would n't listen to this.
they must go with us, even cecily.
""seems to me yez were n't in such a hurry to leave last night," observed peg sarcastically.
""oh, it's only because they'll be so anxious about us at home, and it's sunday and we do n't want to miss sunday school," explained felicity.
""well, i hope your sunday school will do yez good," said peg, rather grumpily.
but she relented again at the last and gave cecily a wishbone.
""whatever you wish on that will come true," she said.
""but you only have the one wish, so do n't waste it."
""we're so much obliged to you for all your trouble," said the story girl politely.
""never mind the trouble.
the expense is the thing," retorted peg grimly.
""oh!"
felicity hesitated.
""if you would let us pay you -- give you something --" "no, thank yez," responded peg loftily.
""there is people who take money for their hospitality, i've heerd, but i'm thankful to say i do n't associate with that class.
yez are welcome to all yez have had here, if yez are in a big hurry to get away."
she shut the door behind us with something of a slam, and her black cat followed us so far, with stealthy, furtive footsteps, that we were frightened of it.
eventually it turned back; then, and not till then, did we feel free to discuss our adventure.
""well, i'm thankful we're out of that," said felicity, drawing a long breath.
""has n't it just been an awful experience?"
""we might all have been found frozen stark and stiff this morning," remarked the story girl with apparent relish.
""i tell you, it was a lucky thing we got to peg bowen's," said dan.
""miss marwood says there is no such thing as luck," protested cecily.
""we ought to say it was providence instead."
""well, peg and providence do n't seem to go together very well, somehow," retorted dan.
""if peg is a witch it must be the other one she's in co..
with."
""dan, it's getting to be simply scandalous the way you talk," said felicity.
""i just wish ma could hear you."
""is soap in porridge any worse than tooth-powder in rusks, lovely creature?"
asked dan.
""dan, dan," admonished cecily, between her coughs, "remember it's sunday."
""it seems hard to remember that," said peter.
""it does n't seem a mite like sunday and it seems awful long since yesterday."
""cecily, you've got a dreadful cold," said the story girl anxiously.
""in spite of peg's ginger tea," added felix.
""oh, that ginger tea was awful," exclaimed poor cecily.
""i thought i'd never get it down -- it was so hot with ginger -- and there was so much of it!
but i was so frightened of offending peg i'd have tried to drink it all if there had been a bucketful.
oh, yes, it's very easy for you all to laugh!
you did n't have to drink it."
""we had to eat two meals, though," said felicity with a shiver.
""and i do n't know when those dishes of hers were washed.
i just shut my eyes and took gulps."
""did you notice the soapy taste in the porridge?"
asked the story girl.
""oh, there were so many queer tastes about it i did n't notice one more than another," answered felicity wearily.
""what bothers me," remarked peter absently, "is that skull.
do you suppose peg really finds things out by it?"
""nonsense!
how could she?"
scoffed felix, bold as a lion in daylight.
""she did n't say she did, you know," i said cautiously.
""well, we'll know in time if the things she said were going to happen do," mused peter.
""do you suppose your father is really coming home?"
queried felicity.
""i hope not," answered peter decidedly.
""you ought to be ashamed of yourself," said felicity severely.
""no, i ought n't.
father got drunk all the time he was home, and would n't work and was bad to mother," said peter defiantly.
""she had to support him as well as herself and me.
i do n't want to see any father coming home, and you'd better believe it.
of course, if he was the right sort of a father it'd be different."
""what i would like to know is if aunt olivia is going to be married," said the story girl absently.
""i can hardly believe it.
but now that i think of it -- uncle roger has been teasing her ever since she was in halifax last summer."
""if she does get married you'll have to come and live with us," said cecily delightedly.
felicity did not betray so much delight and the story girl remarked with a weary little sigh that she hoped aunt olivia would n't.
we all felt rather weary, somehow.
peg's predictions had been unsettling, and our nerves had all been more or less strained during our sojourn under her roof.
we were glad when we found ourselves at home.
the folks had not been at all troubled about us, but it was because they were sure the storm had come up before we would think of leaving cousin mattie's and not because they had received any mysterious message from peg's skull.
we were relieved at this, but on the whole, our adventure had not done much towards clearing up the vexed question of peg's witchcraft.
chapter ix.
extracts from the february and march numbers of "our magazine" resolution honour roll miss felicity king.
honourable mention mr. felix king.
mr. peter craig.
miss sara ray.
editorial the editor wishes to make a few remarks about the resolution honour roll.
as will be seen, only one name figures on it.
felicity says she has thought a beautiful thought every morning before breakfast without missing one morning, not even the one we were at peg bowen's.
some of our number think it not fair that felicity should be on the honour roll -lrb- felicity, aside: "that's dan, of course." -rrb-
when she only made one resolution and wo n't tell us what any of the thoughts were.
so we have decided to give honourable mention to everybody who has kept one resolution perfect.
felix has worked all his arithmetic problems by himself.
he complains that he never got more than a third of them right and the teacher has marked him away down; but one can not keep resolutions without some inconvenience.
peter has never played tit-tat-x in church or got drunk and says it was n't as bad as he expected.
-lrb- peter, indignantly: "i never said it."
cecily, soothingly: "now, peter, bev only meant that as a joke." -rrb-
sara ray has never talked any mean gossip, but does not find conversation as interesting as it used to be.
-lrb- sara ray, wonderingly: "i do n't remember of saying that." -rrb-
felix did not eat any apples until march, but forgot and ate seven the day we were at cousin mattie's.
-lrb- felix: "i only ate five!" -rrb-
he soon gave up trying to say what he thought always.
he got into too much trouble.
we think felix ought to change to old grandfather king's rule.
it was, "hold your tongue when you can, and when you ca n't tell the truth."
cecily feels she has not read all the good books she might, because some she tried to read were very dull and the pansy books were so much more interesting.
and it is no use trying not to feel bad because her hair is n't curly and she has marked that resolution out.
the story girl came very near to keeping her resolution to have all the good times possible, but she says she missed two, if not three, she might have had.
dan refuses to say anything about his resolutions and so does the editor.
personals we regret that miss cecily king is suffering from a severe cold.
mr. alexander marr of markdale died very suddenly last week.
we never heard of his death till he was dead.
miss cecily king wishes to state that she did not ask the question about "holy moses" and the other word in the january number.
dan put it in for a mean joke.
the weather has been cold and fine.
we have only had one bad storm.
the coasting on uncle roger's hill continues good.
aunt eliza did not favour us with a visit after all.
she took cold and had to go home.
we were sorry that she had a cold but glad that she had to go home.
cecily said she thought it wicked of us to be glad.
but when we asked her "cross her heart" if she was n't glad herself she had to say she was.
miss cecily king has got three very distinguished names on her quilt square.
they are the governor and his wife and a witch's.
the king family had the honour of entertaining the governor's wife to tea on february the seventeenth.
we are all invited to visit government house but some of us think we wo n't go.
a tragic event occurred last tuesday.
mrs. james frewen came to tea and there was no pie in the house.
felicity has not yet fully recovered.
a new boy is coming to school.
his name is cyrus brisk and his folks moved up from markdale.
he says he is going to punch willy fraser's head if willy keeps on thinking he is miss cecily king's beau.
-lrb- cecily: "i have n't any beau!
i do n't mean to think of such a thing for at least eight years yet!" -rrb-
miss alice reade of charlottetown royalty has come to carlisle to teach music.
she boards at mr. peter armstrong's.
the girls are all going to take music lessons from her.
two descriptions of her will be found in another column.
felix wrote one, but the girls thought he did not do her justice, so cecily wrote another one.
she admits she copied most of the description out of valeria h. montague's story lord marmaduke's first, last, and only love; or the bride of the castle by the sea, but says they fit miss reade better than anything she could make up.
household department always keep the kitchen tidy and then you need n't mind if company comes unexpectedly.
anxious inquirer: we do n't know anything that will take the stain out of a silk dress when a soft-boiled egg is dropped on it.
better not wear your silk dress so often, especially when boiling eggs.
ginger tea is good for colds.
old housekeeper: yes, when the baking-powder gives out you can use tooth-powder instead.
-lrb- felicity: "i never wrote that!
i do n't care, i do n't think it's fair for other people to be putting things in my department!" -rrb-
our apples are not keeping well this year.
they are rotting; and besides father says we eat an awful lot of them.
perseverance: i will give you the recipe for dumplings you ask for.
but remember it is not everyone who can make dumplings, even from the recipe.
there's a knack in it.
if the soap falls into the porridge do not tell your guests about it until they have finished eating it because it might take away their appetite.
felicity king.
etiquette department p-r c-g: -- do not criticize people's noses unless you are sure they ca n't hear you, and do n't criticize your best girl's great-aunt's nose in any case.
-lrb- felicity, tossing her head: "oh, my!
i s "pose dan thought that was extra smart." -rrb-
c-y k-g: -- when my most intimate friend walks with another girl and exchanges lace patterns with her, what ought i to do?
ans.
adopt a dignified attitude.
f-y k-g: -- it is better not to wear your second best hat to church, but if your mother says you must it is not for me to question her decision.
-lrb- felicity: "dan just copied that word for word out of the family guide, except about the hat part." -rrb-
p-r c-g: -- yes, it would be quite proper to say good evening to the family ghost if you met it.
f-x k-g: -- no, it is not polite to sleep with your mouth open.
what's more, it is n't safe.
something might fall into it.
dan king.
fashion notes crocheted watch pockets are all the rage now.
if you have n't a watch they do to carry your pencil in or a piece of gum.
it is stylish to have hair ribbons to match your dress.
but it is hard to match gray drugget.
i like scarlet for that.
it is stylish to pin a piece of ribbon on your coat the same colour as your chum wears in her hair.
mary martha cowan saw them doing it in town and started us doing it here.
i always wear kitty's ribbon and kitty wears mine, but the story girl thinks it is silly.
cecily king.
an account of our visit to cousin mattie's we all walked over to cousin mattie's last week.
they were all well there and we had a fine dinner.
on our way back a snow-storm came up and we got lost in the woods.
we did n't know where we were or nothing.
if we had n't seen a light i guess we'd all have been frozen and snowed over, and they would never have found us till spring and that would be very sad.
but we saw a light and made for it and it was peg bowen's.
some people think she is a witch and it's hard to tell, but she was real hospitable and took us all in.
her house was very untidy but it was warm.
she has a skull.
i mean a loose skull, not her own.
she lets on it tells her things, but uncle alec says it could n't because it was only an indian skull that old dr. beecham had and peg stole it when he died, but uncle roger says he would n't trust himself with peg's skull for anything.
she gave us supper.
it was a horrid meal.
the story girl says i must not tell what i found in the bread and butter because it would be too disgusting to read in our magazine but it do n't matter because we were all there, except sara ray, and know what it was.
we stayed all night and us boys slept in straw.
none of us had ever slept on straw before.
we got home in the morning.
that is all i can write about our visit to cousin mattie's.
felix king.
my worst adventure it's my turn to write it so i suppose i must.
i guess my worst adventure was two years ago when a whole lot of us were coasting on uncle rogers hill.
charlie cowan and fred marr had started, but half-way down their sled got stuck and i run down to shove them off again.
then i stood there just a moment to watch them with my back to the top of the hill.
while i was standing there rob marr started kitty and em frewen off on his sled.
his sled had a wooden tongue in it and it slanted back over the girls" heads.
i was right in the way and they yelled to me to get out, but just as i heard them it struck me.
the sled took me between the legs and i was histed back over the tongue and dropped in a heap behind before i knew what had happened to me.
i thought a tornado had struck me.
the girls could n't stop though they thought i was killed, but rob came tearing down and helped me up.
he was awful scared but i was n't killed nor my back was n't broken but my nose bled something awful and kept on bleeding for three days.
not all the time but by spells.
dan king.
the story of how carlisle got its name this is a true story to.
long ago there was a girl lived in charlotte town.
i dont know her name so i cant right it and maybe it is just as well for felicity might think it wasnt romantik like miss jemima parrs.
she was awful pretty and a young englishman who had come out to make his fortune fell in love with her and they were engaged to be married the next spring.
his name was mr. carlisle.
in the winter he started off to hunt cariboo for a spell.
cariboos lived on the island then.
there aint any here now.
he got to where it is carlisle now.
it was n't anything then only woods and a few indians.
he got awful sick and was sick for ever so long in a indian camp and only an old micmac squaw to wait on him.
back in town they all thought he was dead and his girl felt bad for a little while and then got over it and took up with another beau.
the girls say that wasnt romantik but i think it was sensible but if it had been me that died i'd have felt bad if she forgot me so soon.
but he hadnt died and when he got back to town he went right to her house and walked in and there she was standing up to be married to the other fellow.
poor mr. carlisle felt awful.
he was sick and week and it went to his head.
he just turned and run and run till he got back to the old micmac's camp and fell in front of it.
but the indians had gone because it was spring and it didnt matter because he really was dead this time and people come looking for him from town and found him and buryed him there and called the place after him.
they say the girl was never happy again and that was hard lines on her but maybe she deserved it.
peter craig.
miss alice reade miss alice reade is a very pretty girl.
she has kind of curly blackish hair and big gray eyes and a pale face.
she is tall and thin but her figure is pretty fair and she has a nice mouth and a sweet way of speaking.
the girls are crazy about her and talk about her all the time.
felix king.
beautiful alice that is what we girls call miss reade among ourselves.
she is divinely beautiful.
her magnificent wealth of raven hair flows back in glistening waves from her sun-kissed brow.
-lrb- dan: "if felix had said she was sunburned you'd have all jumped on him."
-lrb- cecily, coldly: "sun-kissed does n't mean sunburned."
dan: "what does it mean then?"
cecily, embarrassed: "i -- i do n't know.
but miss montague says the lady geraldine's brow was sun-kissed and of course an earl's daughter would n't be sunburned.
""the story girl: "oh, do n't interrupt the reading like this.
it spoils it." -rrb-
her eyes are gloriously dark and deep, like midnight lakes mirroring the stars of heaven.
her features are like sculptured marble and her mouth is a trembling, curving cupid's bow.
-lrb- peter, aside: "what kind of a thing is that?" -rrb-
her creamy skin is as fair and flawless as the petals of a white lily.
her voice is like the ripple of a woodland brook and her slender form is matchless in its symmetry.
-lrb- dan: "that's valeria's way of putting it, but uncle roger says she do n't show her feed much."
felicity: "dan!
if uncle roger is vulgar you need n't be!" -rrb-
her hands are like a poet's dreams.
she dresses so nicely and looks so stylish in her clothes.
her favourite colour is blue.
some people think she is stiff and some say she is stuck-up, but she is n't a bit.
it's just that she is different from them and they do n't like it.
she is just lovely and we adore her. -rrb-
cecily king.
chapter x. disappearance of paddy as i remember, the spring came late that year in carlisle.
it was may before the weather began to satisfy the grown-ups.
but we children were more easily pleased, and we thought april a splendid month because the snow all went early and left gray, firm, frozen ground for our rambles and games.
as the days slipped by they grew more gracious; the hillsides began to look as if they were thinking of mayflowers; the old orchard was washed in a bath of tingling sunshine and the sap stirred in the big trees; by day the sky was veiled with delicate cloud drift, fine and filmy as woven mist; in the evenings a full, low moon looked over the valleys, as pallid and holy as some aureoled saint; a sound of laughter and dream was on the wind and the world grew young with the mirth of april breezes.
""it's so nice to be alive in the spring," said the story girl one twilight as we swung on the boughs of uncle stephen's walk.
""it's nice to be alive any time," said felicity, complacently.
""but it's nicer in the spring," insisted the story girl.
""when i'm dead i think i'll feel dead all the rest of the year, but when spring comes i'm sure i'll feel like getting up and being alive again."
""you do say such queer things," complained felicity.
""you wo n't be really dead any time.
you'll be in the next world.
and i think it's horrid to talk about people being dead anyhow."
""we've all got to die," said sara ray solemnly, but with a certain relish.
it was as if she enjoyed looking forward to something in which nothing, neither an unsympathetic mother, nor the cruel fate which had made her a colourless little nonentity, could prevent her from being the chief performer.
""i sometimes think," said cecily, rather wearily, "that it is n't so dreadful to die young as i used to suppose."
she prefaced her remark with a slight cough, as she had been all too apt to do of late, for the remnants of the cold she had caught the night we were lost in the storm still clung to her.
""do n't talk such nonsense, cecily," cried the story girl with unwonted sharpness, a sharpness we all understood.
all of us, in our hearts, though we never spoke of it to each other, thought cecily was not as well as she ought to be that spring, and we hated to hear anything said which seemed in any way to touch or acknowledge the tiny, faint shadow which now and again showed itself dimly athwart our sunshine.
""well, it was you began talking of being dead," said felicity angrily.
""i do n't think it's right to talk of such things.
cecily, are you sure your feet ai n't damp?
we ought to go in anyhow -- it's too chilly out here for you."
""you girls had better go," said dan, "but i ai n't going in till old isaac frewen goes.
i've no use for him."
""i hate him, too," said felicity, agreeing with dan for once in her life.
""he chews tobacco all the time and spits on the floor -- the horrid pig!"
""and yet his brother is an elder in the church," said sara ray wonderingly.
""i know a story about isaac frewen," said the story girl.
""when he was young he went by the name of oatmeal frewen and he got it this way.
he was noted for doing outlandish things.
he lived at markdale then and he was a great, overgrown, awkward fellow, six feet tall.
he drove over to baywater one saturday to visit his uncle there and came home the next afternoon, and although it was sunday he brought a big bag of oatmeal in the wagon with him.
when he came to carlisle church he saw that service was going on there, and he concluded to stop and go in.
but he did n't like to leave his oatmeal outside for fear something would happen to it, because there were always mischievous boys around, so he hoisted the bag on his back and walked into church with it and right to the top of the aisle to grandfather king's pew.
grandfather king used to say he would never forget it to his dying day.
the minister was preaching and everything was quiet and solemn when he heard a snicker behind him.
grandfather king turned around with a terrible frown -- for you know in those days it was thought a dreadful thing to laugh in church -- to rebuke the offender; and what did he see but that great, hulking young isaac stalking up the aisle, bending a little forward under the weight of a big bag of oatmeal?
grandfather king was so amazed he could n't laugh, but almost everyone else in the church was laughing, and grandfather said he never blamed them, for no funnier sight was ever seen.
young isaac turned into grandfather's pew and thumped the bag of oatmeal down on the seat with a thud that cracked it.
then he plumped down beside it, took off his hat, wiped his face, and settled back to listen to the sermon, just as if it was all a matter of course.
when the service was over he hoisted his bag up again, marched out of church, and drove home.
he could never understand why it made so much talk; but he was known by the name of oatmeal frewen for years."
our laughter, as we separated, rang sweetly through the old orchard and across the far, dim meadows.
felicity and cecily went into the house and sara ray and the story girl went home, but peter decoyed me into the granary to ask advice.
""you know felicity has a birthday next week," he said, "and i want to write her an ode."
""a -- a what?"
i gasped.
""an ode," repeated peter, gravely.
""it's poetry, you know.
i'll put it in our magazine."
""but you ca n't write poetry, peter," i protested.
""i'm going to try," said peter stoutly.
""that is, if you think she wo n't be offended at me."
""she ought to feel flattered," i replied.
""you never can tell how she'll take things," said peter gloomily.
""of course i ai n't going to sign my name, and if she ai n't pleased i wo n't tell her i wrote it.
do n't you let on."
i promised i would n't and peter went off with a light heart.
he said he meant to write two lines every day till he got it done.
cupid was playing his world-old tricks with others than poor peter that spring.
allusion has been made in these chronicles to one, cyrus brisk, and to the fact that our brown-haired, soft-voiced cecily had found favour in the eyes of the said cyrus.
cecily did not regard her conquest with any pride.
on the contrary, it annoyed her terribly to be teased about cyrus.
she declared she hated both him and his name.
she was as uncivil to him as sweet cecily could be to anyone, but the gallant cyrus was nothing daunted.
he laid determined siege to cecily's young heart by all the methods known to love-lorn swains.
he placed delicate tributes of spruce gum, molasses taffy, "conversation" candies and decorated slate pencils on her desk; he persistently "chose" her in all school games calling for a partner; he entreated to be allowed to carry her basket from school; he offered to work her sums for her; and rumour had it that he had made a wild statement to the effect that he meant to ask if he might see her home some night from prayer meeting.
cecily was quite frightened that he would; she confided to me that she would rather die than walk home with him, but that if he asked her she would be too bashful to say no.
so far, however, cyrus had not molested her out of school, nor had he as yet thumped willy fraser -- who was reported to be very low in his spirits over the whole affair.
and now cyrus had written cecily a letter -- a love letter, mark you.
moreover, he had sent it through the post-office, with a real stamp on it.
its arrival made a sensation among us.
dan brought it from the office and, recognizing the handwriting of cyrus, gave cecily no peace until she showed us the letter.
it was a very sentimental and rather ill-spelled epistle in which the inflammable cyrus reproached her in heart-rending words for her coldness, and begged her to answer his letter, saying that if she did he would keep the secret "in violets."
cyrus probably meant "inviolate" but cecily thought it was intended for a poetical touch.
he signed himself "your troo lover, cyrus brisk" and added in a postcript that he could n't eat or sleep for thinking of her.
""are you going to answer it?"
asked dan.
""certainly not," said cecily with dignity.
""cyrus brisk wants to be kicked," growled felix, who never seemed to be any particular friend of willy fraser's either.
""he'd better learn how to spell before he takes to writing love letters."
""maybe cyrus will starve to death if you do n't," suggested sara ray.
""i hope he will," said cecily cruelly.
she was truly vexed over the letter; and yet, so contradictory a thing is the feminine heart, even at twelve years old, i think she was a little flattered by it also.
it was her first love letter and she confided to me that it gives you a very queer feeling to get it.
at all events -- the letter, though unanswered, was not torn up.
i feel sure cecily preserved it.
but she walked past cyrus next morning at school with a frozen countenance, evincing not the slightest pity for his pangs of unrequited affection.
cecily winced when pat caught a mouse, visited a school chum the day the pigs were killed that she might not hear their squealing, and would not have stepped on a caterpillar for anything; yet she did not care at all how much she made the brisk cyrus suffer.
then, suddenly, all our spring gladness and maytime hopes were blighted as by a killing frost.
sorrow and anxiety pervaded our days and embittered our dreams by night.
grim tragedy held sway in our lives for the next fortnight.
paddy disappeared.
one night he lapped his new milk as usual at uncle roger's dairy door and then sat blandly on the flat stone before it, giving the world assurance of a cat, sleek sides glistening, plumy tail gracefully folded around his paws, brilliant eyes watching the stir and flicker of bare willow boughs in the twilight air above him.
that was the last seen of him.
in the morning he was not.
at first we were not seriously alarmed.
paddy was no roving thomas, but occasionally he vanished for a day or so.
but when two days passed without his return we became anxious, the third day worried us greatly, and the fourth found us distracted.
""something has happened to pat," the story girl declared miserably.
""he never stayed away from home more than two days in his life."
""what could have happened to him?"
asked felix.
""he's been poisoned -- or a dog has killed him," answered the story girl in tragic tones.
cecily began to cry at this; but tears were of no avail.
neither was anything else, apparently.
we searched every nook and cranny of barns and out-buildings and woods on both the king farms; we inquired far and wide; we roved over carlisle meadows calling paddy's name, until aunt janet grew exasperated and declared we must stop making such exhibitions of ourselves.
but we found and heard no trace of our lost pet.
the story girl moped and refused to be comforted; cecily declared she could not sleep at night for thinking of poor paddy dying miserably in some corner to which he had dragged his failing body, or lying somewhere mangled and torn by a dog.
we hated every dog we saw on the ground that he might be the guilty one.
""it's the suspense that's so hard," sobbed the story girl.
""if i just knew what had happened to him it would n't be quite so hard.
but i do n't know whether he's dead or alive.
he may be living and suffering, and every night i dream that he has come home and when i wake up and find it's only a dream it just breaks my heart."
""it's ever so much worse than when he was so sick last fall," said cecily drearily.
""then we knew that everything was done for him that could be done."
we could not appeal to peg bowen this time.
in our desperation we would have done it, but peg was far away.
with the first breath of spring she was up and off, answering to the lure of the long road.
she had not been seen in her accustomed haunts for many a day.
her pets were gaining their own living in the woods and her house was locked up.
chapter xi.
the witch's wishbone when a fortnight had elapsed we gave up all hope.
""pat is dead," said the story girl hopelessly, as we returned one evening from a bootless quest to andrew cowan's where a strange gray cat had been reported -- a cat which turned out to be a yellowish brown nondescript, with no tail to speak of.
""i'm afraid so," i acknowledged at last.
""if only peg bowen had been at home she could have found him for us," asserted peter.
""her skull would have told her where he was."
""i wonder if the wishbone she gave me would have done any good," cried cecily suddenly.
""i'd forgotten all about it.
oh, do you suppose it's too late yet?"
""there's nothing in a wishbone," said dan impatiently.
""you ca n't be sure.
she told me i'd get the wish i made on it.
i'm going to try whenever i get home."
""it ca n't do any harm, anyhow," said peter, "but i'm afraid you've left it too late.
if pat is dead even a witch's wishbone ca n't bring him back to life."
""i'll never forgive myself for not thinking about it before," mourned cecily.
as soon as we got home she flew to the little box upstairs where she kept her treasures, and brought therefrom the dry and brittle wishbone.
""peg told me how it must be done.
i'm to hold the wishbone with both hands, like this, and walk backward, repeating the wish nine times.
and when i've finished the ninth time i'm to turn around nine times, from right to left, and then the wish will come true right away."
""do you expect to see pat when you finish turning?"
said dan skeptically.
none of us had any faith in the incantation except peter, and, by infection, cecily.
you never could tell what might happen.
cecily took the wishbone in her trembling little hands and began her backward pacing, repeating solemnly, "i wish that we may find paddy alive, or else his body, so that we can bury him decently."
by the time cecily had repeated this nine times we were all slightly infected with the desperate hope that something might come of it; and when she had made her nine gyrations we looked eagerly down the sunset lane, half expecting to see our lost pet.
but we saw only the awkward man turning in at the gate.
this was almost as surprising as the sight of pat himself would have been; but there was no sign of pat and hope flickered out in every breast but peter's.
""you've got to give the spell time to work," he expostulated.
""if pat was miles away when it was wished it would n't be reasonable to expect to see him right off."
but we of little faith had already lost that little, and it was a very disconsolate group which the awkward man presently joined.
he was smiling -- his rare, beautiful smile which only children ever saw -- and he lifted his hat to the girls with no trace of the shyness and awkwardness for which he was notorious.
""good evening," he said.
""have you little people lost a cat lately?"
we stared.
peter said "i knew it!"
in a triumphant pig's whisper.
the story girl started eagerly forward.
""oh, mr. dale, can you tell us anything of paddy?"
she cried.
""a silver gray cat with black points and very fine marking?"
""yes, yes!"
""alive?"
""yes."
""well, does n't that beat the dutch!"
muttered dan.
but we were all crowding about the awkward man, demanding where and when he had found paddy.
""you'd better come over to my place and make sure that it really is your cat," suggested the awkward man, "and i'll tell you all about finding him on the way.
i must warn you that he is pretty thin -- but i think he'll pull through."
we obtained permission to go without much difficulty, although the spring evening was wearing late, for aunt janet said she supposed none of us would sleep a wink that night if we did n't.
a joyful procession followed the awkward man and the story girl across the gray, star-litten meadows to his home and through his pine-guarded gate.
""you know that old barn of mine back in the woods?"
said the awkward man.
""i go to it only about once in a blue moon.
there was an old barrel there, upside down, one side resting on a block of wood.
this morning i went to the barn to see about having some hay hauled home, and i had occasion to move the barrel.
i noticed that it seemed to have been moved slightly since my last visit, and it was now resting wholly on the floor.
i lifted it up -- and there was a cat lying on the floor under it.
i had heard you had lost yours and i took it this was your pet.
i was afraid he was dead at first.
he was lying there with his eyes closed; but when i bent over him he opened them and gave a pitiful little mew; or rather his mouth made the motion of a mew, for he was too weak to utter a sound."
""oh, poor, poor paddy," said tender-hearted cecily tearfully.
""he could n't stand, so i carried him home and gave him just a little milk.
fortunately he was able to lap it.
i gave him a little more at intervals all day, and when i left he was able to crawl around.
i think he'll be all right, but you'll have to be careful how you feed him for a few days.
do n't let your hearts run away with your judgment and kill him with kindness."
""do you suppose any one put him under that barrel?"
asked the story girl.
""no.
the barn was locked.
nothing but a cat could get in.
i suppose he went under the barrel, perhaps in pursuit of a mouse, and somehow knocked it off the block and so imprisoned himself."
paddy was sitting before the fire in the awkward man's clean, bare kitchen.
thin!
why, he was literally skin and bone, and his fur was dull and lustreless.
it almost broke our hearts to see our beautiful paddy brought so low.
""oh, how he must have suffered!"
moaned cecily.
""he'll be as prosperous as ever in a week or two," said the awkward man kindly.
the story girl gathered paddy up in her arms.
most mellifluously did he purr as we crowded around to stroke him; with friendly joy he licked our hands with his little red tongue; poor paddy was a thankful cat; he was no longer lost, starving, imprisoned, helpless; he was with his comrades once more and he was going home -- home to his old familiar haunts of orchard and dairy and granary, to his daily rations of new milk and cream, to the cosy corner of his own fireside.
we trooped home joyfully, the story girl in our midst carrying paddy hugged against her shoulder.
never did april stars look down on a happier band of travellers on the golden road.
there was a little gray wind out in the meadows that night, and it danced along beside us on viewless, fairy feet, and sang a delicate song of the lovely, waiting years, while the night laid her beautiful hands of blessing over the world.
""you see what peg's wishbone did," said peter triumphantly.
""now, look here, peter, do n't talk nonsense," expostulated dan.
""the awkward man found paddy this morning and had started to bring us word before cecily ever thought of the wishbone.
do you mean to say you believe he would n't have come walking up our lane just when he did if she had never thought of it?"
""i mean to say that i would n't mind if i had several wishbones of the same kind," retorted peter stubbornly.
""of course i do n't think the wishbone had really anything to do with our getting paddy back, but i'm glad i tried it, for all that," remarked cecily in a tone of satisfaction.
""well, anyhow, we've got pat and that's the main thing," said felix.
""and i hope it will be a lesson to him to stay home after this," commented felicity.
""they say the barrens are full of mayflowers," said the story girl.
""let us have a mayflower picnic tomorrow to celebrate paddy's safe return."
chapter xii.
flowers o" may accordingly we went a-maying, following the lure of dancing winds to a certain westward sloping hill lying under the spirit-like blue of spring skies, feathered over with lisping young pines and firs, which cupped little hollows and corners where the sunshine got in and never got out again, but stayed there and grew mellow, coaxing dear things to bloom long before they would dream of waking up elsewhere.
't was there we found our mayflowers, after faithful seeking.
mayflowers, you must know, never flaunt themselves; they must be sought as becomes them, and then they will yield up their treasures to the seeker -- clusters of star-white and dawn-pink that have in them the very soul of all the springs that ever were, re-incarnated in something it seems gross to call perfume, so exquisite and spiritual is it.
we wandered gaily over the hill, calling to each other with laughter and jest, getting parted and delightfully lost in that little pathless wilderness, and finding each other unexpectedly in nooks and dips and sunny silences, where the wind purred and gentled and went softly.
when the sun began to hang low, sending great fan-like streamers of radiance up to the zenith, we foregathered in a tiny, sequestered valley, full of young green fern, lying in the shadow of a wooded hill.
in it was a shallow pool -- a glimmering green sheet of water on whose banks nymphs might dance as blithely as ever they did on argive hill or in cretan dale.
there we sat and stripped the faded leaves and stems from our spoil, making up the blossoms into bouquets to fill our baskets with sweetness.
the story girl twisted a spray of divinest pink in her brown curls, and told us an old legend of a beautiful indian maiden who died of a broken heart when the first snows of winter were falling, because she believed her long-absent lover was false.
but he came back in the spring time from his long captivity; and when he heard that she was dead he sought her grave to mourn her, and lo, under the dead leaves of the old year he found sweet sprays of a blossom never seen before, and knew that it was a message of love and remembrance from his dark-eyed sweet-heart.
""except in stories indian girls are called squaws," remarked practical dan, tying his mayflowers together in one huge, solid, cabbage-like bunch.
not for dan the bother of filling his basket with the loose sprays, mingled with feathery elephant's - ears and trails of creeping spruce, as the rest of us, following the story girl's example, did.
nor would he admit that ours looked any better than his.
""i like things of one kind together.
i do n't like them mixed," he said.
""you have no taste," said felicity.
""except in my mouth, best beloved," responded dan.
""you do think you are so smart," retorted felicity, flushing with anger.
""do n't quarrel this lovely day," implored cecily.
""nobody's quarrelling, sis.
i ai n't a bit mad.
it's felicity.
what on earth is that at the bottom of your basket, cecily?"
""it's a history of the reformation in france," confessed poor cecily, "by a man named d-a-u-b-i-g-n-y.
i ca n't pronounce it.
i heard mr. marwood saying it was a book everyone ought to read, so i began it last sunday.
i brought it along today to read when i got tired picking flowers.
i'd ever so much rather have brought ester reid.
there's so much in the history i ca n't understand, and it is so dreadful to read of people being burned to death.
but i felt i ought to read it."
""do you really think your mind has improved any?"
asked sara ray seriously, wreathing the handle of her basket with creeping spruce.
""no, i'm afraid it has n't one bit," answered cecily sadly.
""i feel that i have n't succeeded very well in keeping my resolutions."
""i've kept mine," said felicity complacently.
""it's easy to keep just one," retorted cecily, rather resentfully.
""it's not so easy to think beautiful thoughts," answered felicity.
""it's the easiest thing in the world," said the story girl, tiptoeing to the edge of the pool to peep at her own arch reflection, as some nymph left over from the golden age might do.
""beautiful thoughts just crowd into your mind at times."
""oh, yes, at times.
but that's different from thinking one regularly at a given hour.
and mother is always calling up the stairs for me to hurry up and get dressed, and it's very hard sometimes."
""that's so," conceded the story girl.
""there are times when i ca n't think anything but gray thoughts.
then, other days, i think pink and blue and gold and purple and rainbow thoughts all the time."
""the idea!
as if thoughts were coloured," giggled felicity.
""oh, they are!"
cried the story girl.
""why, i can always see the colour of any thought i think.
ca n't you?"
""i never heard of such a thing," declared felicity, "and i do n't believe it.
i believe you are just making that up."
""indeed i'm not.
why, i always supposed everyone thought in colours.
it must be very tiresome if you do n't."
""when you think of me what colour is it?"
asked peter curiously.
""yellow," answered the story girl promptly.
""and cecily is a sweet pink, like those mayflowers, and sara ray is very pale blue, and dan is red and felix is yellow, like peter, and bev is striped."
""what colour am i?"
asked felicity, amid the laughter at my expense.
""you're -- you're like a rainbow," answered the story girl rather reluctantly.
she had to be honest, but she would rather not have complimented felicity.
""and you need n't laugh at bev.
his stripes are beautiful.
it is n't he that is striped.
it's just the thought of him.
peg bowen is a queer sort of yellowish green and the awkward man is lilac.
aunt olivia is pansy-purple mixed with gold, and uncle roger is navy blue."
""i never heard such nonsense," declared felicity.
the rest of us were rather inclined to agree with her for once.
we thought the story girl was making fun of us.
but i believe she really had a strange gift of thinking in colours.
in later years, when we were grown up, she told me of it again.
she said that everything had colour in her thought; the months of the year ran through all the tints of the spectrum, the days of the week were arrayed as solomon in his glory, morning was golden, noon orange, evening crystal blue, and night violet.
every idea came to her mind robed in its own especial hue.
perhaps that was why her voice and words had such a charm, conveying to the listeners" perception such fine shadings of meaning and tint and music.
""well, let's go and have something to eat," suggested dan.
""what colour is eating, sara?"
""golden brown, just the colour of a molasses cooky," laughed the story girl.
we sat on the ferny bank of the pool and ate of the generous basket aunt janet had provided, with appetites sharpened by the keen spring air and our wilderness rovings.
felicity had made some very nice sandwiches of ham which we all appreciated except dan, who declared he did n't like things minced up and dug out of the basket a chunk of boiled pork which he proceeded to saw up with a jack-knife and devour with gusto.
""i told ma to put this in for me.
there's some chew to it," he said.
""you are not a bit refined," commented felicity.
""not a morsel, my love," grinned dan.
""you make me think of a story i heard uncle roger telling about cousin annetta king," said the story girl.
""great-uncle jeremiah king used to live where uncle roger lives now, when grandfather king was alive and uncle roger was a boy.
in those days it was thought rather coarse for a young lady to have too hearty an appetite, and she was more admired if she was delicate about what she ate.
cousin annetta set out to be very refined indeed.
she pretended to have no appetite at all.
one afternoon she was invited to tea at grandfather king's when they had some special company -- people from charlottetown.
cousin annetta said she could hardly eat anything.
"you know, uncle abraham," she said, in a very affected, fine-young-lady voice," i really hardly eat enough to keep a bird alive.
mother says she wonders how i continue to exist."
and she picked and pecked until grandfather king declared he would like to throw something at her.
after tea cousin annetta went home, and just about dark grandfather king went over to uncle jeremiah's on an errand.
as he passed the open, lighted pantry window he happened to glance in, and what do you think he saw?
delicate cousin annetta standing at the dresser, with a big loaf of bread beside her and a big platterful of cold, boiled pork in front of her; and annetta was hacking off great chunks, like dan there, and gobbling them down as if she was starving.
grandfather king could n't resist the temptation.
he stepped up to the window and said, "i'm glad your appetite has come back to you, annetta.
your mother need n't worry about your continuing to exist as long as you can tuck away fat, salt pork in that fashion."
""cousin annetta never forgave him, but she never pretended to be delicate again."
""the jews do n't believe in eating pork," said peter.
""i'm glad i'm not a jew and i guess cousin annetta was too," said dan.
""i like bacon, but i can never look at a pig without wondering if they were ever intended to be eaten," remarked cecily naively.
when we finished our lunch the barrens were already wrapping themselves in a dim, blue dusk and falling upon rest in dell and dingle.
but out in the open there was still much light of a fine emerald-golden sort and the robins whistled us home in it.
""horns of elfland" never sounded more sweetly around hoary castle and ruined fane than those vesper calls of the robins from the twilight spruce woods and across green pastures lying under the pale radiance of a young moon.
when we reached home we found that miss reade had been up to the hill farm on an errand and was just leaving.
the story girl went for a walk with her and came back with an important expression on her face.
""you look as if you had a story to tell," said felix.
""one is growing.
it is n't a whole story yet," answered the story girl mysteriously.
""what is it?"
asked cecily.
""i ca n't tell you till it's fully grown," said the story girl.
""but i'll tell you a pretty little story the awkward man told us -- told me -- tonight.
he was walking in his garden as we went by, looking at his tulip beds.
his tulips are up ever so much higher than ours, and i asked him how he managed to coax them along so early.
and he said he did n't do it -- it was all the work of the pixies who lived in the woods across the brook.
there were more pixy babies than usual this spring, and the mothers were in a hurry for the cradles.
the tulips are the pixy babies" cradles, it seems.
the mother pixies come out of the woods at twilight and rock their tiny little brown babies to sleep in the tulip cups.
that is the reason why tulip blooms last so much longer than other blossoms.
the pixy babies must have a cradle until they are grown up.
they grow very fast, you see, and the awkward man says on a spring evening, when the tulips are out, you can hear the sweetest, softest, clearest, fairy music in his garden, and it is the pixy folk singing as they rock the pixy babies to sleep."
""then the awkward man says what is n't true," said felicity severely.
chapter xiii.
a surprising announcement "nothing exciting has happened for ever so long," said the story girl discontentedly, one late may evening, as we lingered under the wonderful white bloom of the cherry trees.
there was a long row of them in the orchard, with a lombardy poplar at either end, and a hedge of lilacs behind.
when the wind blew over them all the spicy breezes of ceylon's isle were never sweeter.
it was a time of wonder and marvel, of the soft touch of silver rain on greening fields, of the incredible delicacy of young leaves, of blossom in field and garden and wood.
the whole world bloomed in a flush and tremor of maiden loveliness, instinct with all the evasive, fleeting charm of spring and girlhood and young morning.
we felt and enjoyed it all without understanding or analyzing it.
it was enough to be glad and young with spring on the golden road.
""i do n't like excitement very much," said cecily.
""it makes one so tired.
i'm sure it was exciting enough when paddy was missing, but we did n't find that very pleasant."
""no, but it was interesting," returned the story girl thoughtfully.
""after all, i believe i'd rather be miserable than dull."
""i would n't then," said felicity decidedly.
""and you need never be dull when you have work to do.
"satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do!""
""well, mischief is interesting," laughed the story girl.
""and i thought you did n't think it lady-like to speak of that person, felicity?"
""it's all right if you call him by his polite name," said felicity stiffly.
""why does the lombardy poplar hold its branches straight up in the air like that, when all the other poplars hold theirs out or hang them down?"
interjected peter, who had been gazing intently at the slender spire showing darkly against the fine blue eastern sky.
""because it grows that way," said felicity.
""oh i know a story about that," cried the story girl.
""once upon a time an old man found the pot of gold at the rainbow's end.
there is a pot there, it is said, but it is very hard to find because you can never get to the rainbow's end before it vanishes from your sight.
but this old man found it, just at sunset, when iris, the guardian of the rainbow gold, happened to be absent.
as he was a long way from home, and the pot was very big and heavy, he decided to hide it until morning and then get one of his sons to go with him and help him carry it.
so he hid it under the boughs of the sleeping poplar tree.
""when iris came back she missed the pot of gold and of course she was in a sad way about it.
she sent mercury, the messenger of the gods, to look for it, for she did n't dare leave the rainbow again, lest somebody should run off with that too.
mercury asked all the trees if they had seen the pot of gold, and the elm, oak and pine pointed to the poplar and said," "the poplar can tell you where it is.""
"how can i tell you where it is?"
cried the poplar, and she held up all her branches in surprise, just as we hold up our hands -- and down tumbled the pot of gold.
the poplar was amazed and indignant, for she was a very honest tree.
she stretched her boughs high above her head and declared that she would always hold them like that, so that nobody could hide stolen gold under them again.
and she taught all the little poplars she knew to stand the same way, and that is why lombardy poplars always do.
but the aspen poplar leaves are always shaking, even on the very calmest day.
and do you know why?"
and then she told us the old legend that the cross on which the saviour of the world suffered was made of aspen poplar wood and so never again could its poor, shaken, shivering leaves know rest or peace.
there was an aspen in the orchard, the very embodiment of youth and spring in its litheness and symmetry.
its little leaves were hanging tremulously, not yet so fully blown as to hide its development of bough and twig, making poetry against the spiritual tints of a spring sunset.
""it does look sad," said peter, "but it is a pretty tree, and it was n't its fault."
""there's a heavy dew and it's time we stopped talking nonsense and went in," decreed felicity.
""if we do n't we'll all have a cold, and then we'll be miserable enough, but it wo n't be very exciting."
""all the same, i wish something exciting would happen," finished the story girl, as we walked up through the orchard, peopled with its nun-like shadows.
""there's a new moon tonight, so may be you'll get your wish," said peter.
""my aunt jane did n't believe there was anything in the moon business, but you never can tell."
the story girl did get her wish.
something happened the very next day.
she joined us in the afternoon with a quite indescribable expression on her face, compounded of triumph, anticipation, and regret.
her eyes betrayed that she had been crying, but in them shone a chastened exultation.
whatever the story girl mourned over it was evident she was not without hope.
""i have some news to tell you," she said importantly.
""can you guess what it is?"
we could n't and would n't try.
""tell us right off," implored felix.
""you look as if it was something tremendous."
""so it is.
listen -- aunt olivia is going to be married."
we stared in blank amazement.
peg bowen's hint had faded from our minds and we had never put much faith in it.
""aunt olivia!
i do n't believe it," cried felicity flatly.
""who told you?"
""aunt olivia herself.
so it is perfectly true.
i'm awfully sorry in one way -- but oh, wo n't it be splendid to have a real wedding in the family?
she's going to have a big wedding -- and i am to be bridesmaid."
""i should n't think you were old enough to be a bridesmaid," said felicity sharply.
""i'm nearly fifteen.
anyway, aunt olivia says i have to be."
""who's she going to marry?"
asked cecily, gathering herself together after the shock, and finding that the world was going on just the same.
""his name is dr. seton and he is a halifax man.
she met him when she was at uncle edward's last summer.
they've been engaged ever since.
the wedding is to be the third week in june."
""and our school concert comes off the next week," complained felicity.
""why do things always come together like that?
and what are you going to do if aunt olivia is going away?"
""i'm coming to live at your house," answered the story girl rather timidly.
she did not know how felicity might like that.
but felicity took it rather well.
""you've been here most of the time anyhow, so it'll just be that you'll sleep and eat here, too.
but what's to become of uncle roger?"
""aunt olivia says he'll have to get married, too.
but uncle roger says he'd rather hire a housekeeper than marry one, because in the first case he could turn her off if he did n't like her, but in the second case he could n't."
""there'll be a lot of cooking to do for the wedding," reflected felicity in a tone of satisfaction.
""i s "pose aunt olivia will want some rusks made.
i hope she has plenty of tooth-powder laid in," said dan.
""it's a pity you do n't use some of that tooth-powder you're so fond of talking about yourself," retorted felicity.
""when anyone has a mouth the size of yours the teeth show so plain."
""i brush my teeth every sunday," asseverated dan.
""every sunday!
you ought to brush them every day."
""did anyone ever hear such nonsense?"
demanded dan sincerely.
""well, you know, it really does say so in the family guide," said cecily quietly.
""then the family guide people must have lots more spare time than i have," retorted dan contemptuously.
""just think, the story girl will have her name in the papers if she's bridesmaid," marvelled sara ray.
""in the halifax papers, too," added felix, "since dr. seton is a halifax man.
what is his first name?"
""robert."
""and will we have to call him uncle robert?"
""not until he's married to her.
then we will, of course."
""i hope your aunt olivia wo n't disappear before the ceremony," remarked sara ray, who was surreptitiously reading "the vanquished bride," by valeria h. montague in the family guide.
""i hope dr. seton wo n't fail to show up, like your cousin rachel ward's beau," said peter.
""that makes me think of another story i read the other day about great-uncle andrew king and aunt georgina," laughed the story girl.
""it happened eighty years ago.
it was a very stormy winter and the roads were bad.
uncle andrew lived in carlisle, and aunt georgina -- she was miss georgina matheson then -- lived away up west, so he could n't get to see her very often.
they agreed to be married that winter, but georgina could n't set the day exactly because her brother, who lived in ontario, was coming home for a visit, and she wanted to be married while he was home.
so it was arranged that she was to write uncle andrew and tell him what day to come.
she did, and she told him to come on a tuesday.
but her writing was n't very good and poor uncle andrew thought she wrote thursday.
so on thursday he drove all the way to georgina's home to be married.
it was forty miles and a bitter cold day.
but it was n't any colder than the reception he got from georgina.
she was out in the porch, with her head tied up in a towel, picking geese.
she had been all ready tuesday, and her friends and the minister were there, and the wedding supper prepared.
but there was no bridegroom and georgina was furious.
nothing uncle andrew could say would appease her.
she would n't listen to a word of explanation, but told him to go, and never show his nose there again.
so poor uncle andrew had to go ruefully home, hoping that she would relent later on, because he was really very much in love with her."
""and did she?"
queried felicity.
""she did.
thirteen years exactly from that day they were married.
it took her just that long to forgive him."
""it took her just that long to find out she could n't get anybody else," said dan, cynically.
chapter xiv.
a prodigal returns aunt olivia and the story girl lived in a whirlwind of dressmaking after that, and enjoyed it hugely.
cecily and felicity also had to have new dresses for the great event, and they talked of little else for a fortnight.
cecily declared that she hated to go to sleep because she was sure to dream that she was at aunt olivia's wedding in her old faded gingham dress and a ragged apron.
""and no shoes or stockings," she added, "and i ca n't move, and everyone walks past and looks at my feet."
""that's only in a dream," mourned sara ray, "but i may have to wear my last summer's white dress to the wedding.
it's too short, but ma says it's plenty good for this summer.
i'll be so mortified if i have to wear it."
""i'd rather not go at all than wear a dress that was n't nice," said felicity pleasantly.
""i'd go to the wedding if i had to go in my school dress," cried sara ray.
""i've never been to anything.
i would n't miss it for the world."
""my aunt jane always said that if you were neat and tidy it did n't matter whether you were dressed fine or not," said peter.
""i'm sick and tired of hearing about your aunt jane," said felicity crossly.
peter looked grieved but held his peace.
felicity was very hard on him that spring, but his loyalty never wavered.
everything she said or did was right in peter's eyes.
""it's all very well to be neat and tidy," said sara ray, "but i like a little style too."
""i think you'll find your mother will get you a new dress after all," comforted cecily.
""anyway, nobody will notice you because everyone will be looking at the bride.
aunt olivia will make a lovely bride.
just think how sweet she'll look in a white silk dress and a floating veil."
""she says she is going to have the ceremony performed out here in the orchard under her own tree," said the story girl.
""wo n't that be romantic?
it almost makes me feel like getting married myself."
""what a way to talk," rebuked felicity, "and you only fifteen."
""lots of people have been married at fifteen," laughed the story girl.
""lady jane gray was."
""but you are always saying that valeria h. montague's stories are silly and not true to life, so that is no argument," retorted felicity, who knew more about cooking than about history, and evidently imagined that the lady jane gray was one of valeria's titled heroines.
the wedding was a perennial source of conversation among us in those days; but presently its interest palled for a time in the light of another quite tremendous happening.
one saturday night peter's mother called to take him home with her for sunday.
she had been working at mr. james frewen's, and mr. frewen was driving her home.
we had never seen peter's mother before, and we looked at her with discreet curiosity.
she was a plump, black-eyed little woman, neat as a pin, but with a rather tired and care-worn face that looked as if it should have been rosy and jolly.
life had been a hard battle for her, and i rather think that her curly-headed little lad was all that had kept heart and spirit in her.
peter went home with her and returned sunday evening.
we were in the orchard sitting around the pulpit stone, where we had, according to the custom of the households of king, been learning our golden texts and memory verses for the next sunday school lesson.
paddy, grown sleek and handsome again, was sitting on the stone itself, washing his jowls.
peter joined us with a very queer expression on his face.
he seemed bursting with some news which he wanted to tell and yet hardly liked to.
""why are you looking so mysterious, peter?"
demanded the story girl.
""what do you think has happened?"
asked peter solemnly.
""what has?"
""my father has come home," answered peter.
the announcement produced all the sensation he could have wished.
we crowded around him in excitement.
""peter!
when did he come back?"
""saturday night.
he was there when ma and i got home.
it give her an awful turn.
i did n't know him at first, of course."
""peter craig, i believe you are glad your father has come back," cried the story girl."
"course i'm glad," retorted peter.
""and after you saying you did n't want ever to see him again," said felicity.
""you just wait.
you have n't heard my story yet.
i would n't have been glad to see father if he'd come back the same as he went away.
but he is a changed man.
he happened to go into a revival meeting one night this spring and he got converted.
and he's come home to stay, and he says he's never going to drink another drop, but he's going to look after his family.
ma is n't to do any more washing for nobody but him and me, and i'm not to be a hired boy any longer.
he says i can stay with your uncle roger till the fall'cause i promised i would, but after that i'm to stay home and go to school right along and learn to be whatever i'd like to be.
i tell you it made me feel queer.
everything seemed to be upset.
but he gave ma forty dollars -- every cent he had -- so i guess he really is converted."
""i hope it will last, i'm sure," said felicity.
she did not say it nastily, however.
we were all glad for peter's sake, though a little dizzy over the unexpectedness of it all.
""this is what i'd like to know," said peter.
""how did peg bowen know my father was coming home?
do n't you tell me she is n't a witch after that."
""and she knew about your aunt olivia's wedding, too," added sara ray.
""oh, well, she likely heard that from some one.
grown up folks talk things over long before they tell them to children," said cecily.
""well, she could n't have heard father was coming home from any one," answered peter.
""he was converted up in maine, where nobody knew him, and he never told a soul he was coming till he got here.
no, you can believe what you like, but i'm satisfied at last that peg is a witch and that skull of hers does tell her things.
she told me father was coming home and he come!"
""how happy you must be," sighed sara ray romantically.
""it's just like that story in the family guide, where the missing earl comes home to his family just as the countess and lady violetta are going to be turned out by the cruel heir."
felicity sniffed.
""there's some difference, i guess.
the earl had been imprisoned for years in a loathsome dungeon."
perhaps peter's father had too, if we but realized it -- imprisoned in the dungeon of his own evil appetites and habits, than which none could be more loathsome.
but a power, mightier than the forces of evil, had struck off his fetters and led him back to his long-forfeited liberty and light.
and no countess or lady of high degree could have welcomed a long-lost earl home more joyfully than the tired little washerwoman had welcomed the erring husband of her youth.
but in peter's ointment of joy there was a fly or two.
so very, very few things are flawless in this world, even on the golden road.
""of course i'm awful glad that father has come back and that ma wo n't have to wash any more," he said with a sigh, "but there are two things that kind of worry me.
my aunt jane always said that it did n't do any good to worry, and i s "pose it do n't, but it's kind of a relief."
""what's worrying you?"
asked felix.
""well, for one thing i'll feel awful bad to go away from you all.
i'll miss you just dreadful, and i wo n't even be able to go to the same school.
i'll have to go to markdale school."
""but you must come and see us often," said felicity graciously.
""markdale is n't so far away, and you could spend every other saturday afternoon with us anyway."
peter's black eyes filled with adoring gratitude.
""that's so kind of you, felicity.
i'll come as often as i can, of course; but it wo n't be the same as being around with you all the time.
the other thing is even worse.
you see, it was a methodist revival father got converted in, and so of course he joined the methodist church.
he was n't anything before.
he used to say he was a nothingarian and lived up to it -- kind of bragging like.
but he's a strong methodist now, and is going to go to markdale methodist church and pay to the salary.
now what'll he say when i tell him i'm a presbyterian?"
""you have n't told him, yet?"
asked the story girl.
""no, i did n't dare.
i was scared he'd say i'd have to be a methodist."
""well, methodists are pretty near as good as presbyterians," said felicity, with the air of one making a great concession.
""i guess they're every bit as good," retorted peter.
""but that ai n't the point.
i've got to be a presbyterian,'cause i stick to a thing when i once decide it.
but i expect father will be mad when he finds out."
""if he's converted he ought n't to get mad," said dan.
""well, lots o" people do.
but if he is n't mad he'll be sorry, and that'll be even worse, for a presbyterian i'm bound to be.
but i expect it will make things unpleasant."
""you need n't tell him anything about it," advised felicity.
""just keep quiet and go to the methodist church until you get big, and then you can go where you please."
""no, that would n't be honest," said peter sturdily.
""my aunt jane always said it was best to be open and above board in everything, and especially in religion.
so i'll tell father right out, but i'll wait a few weeks so as not to spoil things for ma too soon if he acts up."
peter was not the only one who had secret cares.
sara ray was beginning to feel worried over her looks.
i heard her and cecily talking over their troubles one evening while i was weeding the onion bed and they were behind the hedge knitting lace.
i did not mean to eavesdrop.
i supposed they knew i was there until cecily overwhelmed me with indignation later on.
""i'm so afraid, cecily, that i'm going to be homely all my life," said poor sara with a tremble in her voice.
""you can stand being ugly when you are young if you have any hope of being better looking when you grow up.
but i'm getting worse.
aunt mary says i'm going to be the very image of aunt matilda.
and aunt matilda is as homely as she can be.
it is n't" -- and poor sara sighed -- "a very cheerful prospect.
if i am ugly nobody will ever want to marry me, and," concluded sara candidly, "i do n't want to be an old maid."
""but plenty of girls get married who are n't a bit pretty," comforted cecily.
""besides, you are real nice looking at times, sara.
i think you are going to have a nice figure."
""but just look at my hands," moaned sara.
""they're simply covered with warts."
""oh, the warts will all disappear before you grow up," said cecily.
""but they wo n't disappear before the school concert.
how am i to get up there and recite?
you know there is one line in my recitation, "she waved her lily-white hand," and i have to wave mine when i say it.
fancy waving a lily-white hand all covered with warts.
i've tried every remedy i ever heard of, but nothing does any good.
judy pineau said if i rubbed them with toad-spit it would take them away for sure.
but how am i to get any toad-spit?"
""it does n't sound like a very nice remedy, anyhow," shuddered cecily.
""i'd rather have the warts.
but do you know, i believe if you did n't cry so much over every little thing, you'd be ever so much better looking.
crying spoils your eyes and makes the end of your nose red."
""i ca n't help crying," protested sara.
""my feelings are so very sensitive.
i've given up trying to keep that resolution."
""well, men do n't like cry-babies," said cecily sagely.
cecily had a good deal of mother eve's wisdom tucked away in that smooth, brown head of hers.
""cecily, do you ever intend to be married?"
asked sara in a confidential tone.
""goodness!"
cried cecily, quite shocked.
""it will be time enough when i grow up to think of that, sara."
""i should think you'd have to think of it now, with cyrus brisk as crazy after you as he is."
""i wish cyrus brisk was at the bottom of the red sea," exclaimed cecily, goaded into a spurt of temper by mention of the detested name.
""what has cyrus been doing now?"
asked felicity, coming around the corner of the hedge.
""doing now!
it's all the time.
he just worries me to death," returned cecily angrily.
""he keeps writing me letters and putting them in my desk or in my reader.
i never answer one of them, but he keeps on.
and in the last one, mind you, he said he'd do something desperate right off if i would n't promise to marry him when we grew up."
""just think, cecily, you've had a proposal already," said sara ray in an awe-struck tone.
""but he has n't done anything desperate yet, and that was last week," commented felicity, with a toss of her head.
""he sent me a lock of his hair and wanted one of mine in exchange," continued cecily indignantly.
""i tell you i sent his back to him pretty quick."
""did you never answer any of his letters?"
asked sara ray.
""no, indeed!
i guess not!"
""do you know," said felicity, "i believe if you wrote him just once and told him your exact opinion of him in good plain english it would cure him of his nonsense."
""i could n't do that.
i have n't enough spunk," confessed cecily with a blush.
""but i'll tell you what i did do once.
he wrote me a long letter last week.
it was just awfully soft, and every other word was spelled wrong.
he even spelled baking soda, "bacon soda!""
""what on earth had he to say about baking soda in a love-letter?"
asked felicity.
""oh, he said his mother sent him to the store for some and he forgot it because he was thinking about me.
well, i just took his letter and wrote in all the words, spelled right, above the wrong ones, in red ink, just as mr. perkins makes us do with our dictation exercises, and sent it back to him.
i thought maybe he'd feel insulted and stop writing to me."
""and did he?"
""no, he did n't.
it is my opinion you ca n't insult cyrus brisk.
he is too thick-skinned.
he wrote another letter, and thanked me for correcting his mistakes, and said it made him feel glad because it showed i was beginning to take an interest in him when i wanted him to spell better.
did you ever?
miss marwood says it is wrong to hate anyone, but i do n't care, i hate cyrus brisk."
""mrs. cyrus brisk would be an awful name," giggled felicity.
""flossie brisk says cyrus is ruining all the trees on his father's place cutting your name on them," said sara ray.
""his father told him he would whip him if he did n't stop, but cyrus keeps right on.
he told flossie it relieved his feelings.
flossie says he cut yours and his together on the birch tree in front of the parlour window, and a row of hearts around them."
""just where every visitor can see them, i suppose," lamented cecily.
""he just worries my life out.
and what i mind most of all is, he sits and looks at me in school with such melancholy, reproachful eyes when he ought to be working sums.
i wo n't look at him, but i feel him staring at me, and it makes me so nervous."
""they say his mother was out of her mind at one time," said felicity.
i do not think felicity was quite well pleased that cyrus should have passed over her rose-red prettiness to set his affections on that demure elf of a cecily.
she did not want the allegiance of cyrus in the least, but it was something of a slight that he had not wanted her to want it.
""and he sends me pieces of poetry he cuts out of the papers," cecily went on, "with lots of the lines marked with a lead pencil.
yesterday he put one in his letter, and this is what he marked:" "if you will not relent to me then must i learn to know darkness alone till life be flown.
here -- i have the piece in my sewing-bag -- i'll read it all to you."
those three graceless girls read the sentimental rhyme and giggled over it.
poor cyrus!
his young affections were sadly misplaced.
but after all, though cecily never relented towards him, he did not condemn himself to darkness alone till life was flown.
quite early in life he wedded a stout, rosy, buxom lass, the very antithesis of his first love; he prospered in his undertakings, raised a large and respectable family, and was eventually appointed a justice of the peace.
which was all very sensible of cyrus.
chapter xv.
the rape of the lock june was crowded full of interest that year.
we gathered in with its sheaf of fragrant days the choicest harvest of childhood.
things happened right along.
cecily declared she hated to go to sleep for fear she might miss something.
there were so many dear delights along the golden road to give us pleasure -- the earth dappled with new blossom, the dance of shadows in the fields, the rustling, rain-wet ways of the woods, the faint fragrance in meadow lanes, liltings of birds and croon of bees in the old orchard, windy pipings on the hills, sunset behind the pines, limpid dews filling primrose cups, crescent moons through darklings boughs, soft nights alight with blinking stars.
we enjoyed all these boons, unthinkingly and light-heartedly, as children do.
and besides these, there was the absorbing little drama of human life which was being enacted all around us, and in which each of us played a satisfying part -- the gay preparations for aunt olivia's mid-june wedding, the excitement of practising for the concert with which our school-teacher, mr. perkins, had elected to close the school year, and cecily's troubles with cyrus brisk, which furnished unholy mirth for the rest of us, though cecily could not see the funny side of it at all.
matters went from bad to worse in the case of the irrepressible cyrus.
he continued to shower cecily with notes, the spelling of which showed no improvement; he worried the life out of her by constantly threatening to fight willy fraser -- although, as felicity sarcastically pointed out, he never did it.
""but i'm always afraid he will," said cecily, "and it would be such a disgrace to have two boys fighting over me in school."
""you must have encouraged cyrus a little in the beginning or he'd never have been so persevering," said felicity unjustly.
""i never did!"
cried outraged cecily.
""you know very well, felicity king, that i hated cyrus brisk ever since the very first time i saw his big, fat, red face.
so there!"
""felicity is just jealous because cyrus did n't take a notion to her instead of you, sis," said dan.
""talk sense!"
snapped felicity.
""if i did you would n't understand me, sweet little sister," rejoined aggravating dan.
finally cyrus crowned his iniquities by stealing the denied lock of cecily's hair.
one sunny afternoon in school, cecily and kitty marr asked and received permission to sit out on the side bench before the open window, where the cool breeze swept in from the green fields beyond.
to sit on this bench was always considered a treat, and was only allowed as a reward of merit; but cecily and kitty had another reason for wishing to sit there.
kitty had read in a magazine that sun-baths were good for the hair; so both she and cecily tossed their long braids over the window-sill and let them hang there in the broiling sun-shine.
and while cecily sat thus, diligently working a fraction sum on her slate, that base cyrus asked permission to go out, having previously borrowed a pair of scissors from one of the big girls who did fancy work at the noon recess.
outside, cyrus sneaked up close to the window and cut off a piece of cecily's hair.
this rape of the lock did not produce quite such terrible consequences as the more famous one in pope's poem, but cecily's soul was no less agitated than belinda's.
she cried all the way home from school about it, and only checked her tears when dan declared he'd fight cyrus and make him give it up.
""oh, no, you must n't."
said cecily, struggling with her sobs.
""i wo n't have you fighting on my account for anything.
and besides, he'd likely lick you -- he's so big and rough.
and the folks at home might find out all about it, and uncle roger would never give me any peace, and mother would be cross, for she'd never believe it was n't my fault.
it would n't be so bad if he'd only taken a little, but he cut a great big chunk right off the end of one of the braids.
just look at it.
i'll have to cut the other to make them fair -- and they'll look so awful stubby."
but cyrus" acquirement of the chunk of hair was his last triumph.
his downfall was near; and, although it involved cecily in a most humiliating experience, over which she cried half the following night, in the end she confessed it was worth undergoing just to get rid of cyrus.
mr. perkins was an exceedingly strict disciplinarian.
no communication of any sort was permitted between his pupils during school hours.
anyone caught violating this rule was promptly punished by the infliction of one of the weird penances for which mr. perkins was famous, and which were generally far worse than ordinary whipping.
one day in school cyrus sent a letter across to cecily.
usually he left his effusions in her desk, or between the leaves of her books; but this time it was passed over to her under cover of the desk through the hands of two or three scholars.
just as em frewen held it over the aisle mr. perkins wheeled around from his station before the blackboard and caught her in the act.
""bring that here, emmeline," he commanded.
cyrus turned quite pale.
em carried the note to mr. perkins.
he took it, held it up, and scrutinized the address.
""did you write this to cecily, emmeline?"
he asked.
""no, sir."
""who wrote it then?"
em said quite shamelessly that she did n't know -- it had just been passed over from the next row.
""and i suppose you have no idea where it came from?"
said mr. perkins, with his frightful, sardonic grin.
""well, perhaps cecily can tell us.
you may take your seat, emmeline, and you will remain at the foot of your spelling class for a week as punishment for passing the note.
cecily, come here."
indignant em sat down and poor, innocent cecily was haled forth to public ignominy.
she went with a crimson face.
""cecily," said her tormentor, "do you know who wrote this letter to you?"
cecily, like a certain renowned personage, could not tell a lie.
""i -- i think so, sir," she murmured faintly.
""who was it?"
""i ca n't tell you that," stammered cecily, on the verge of tears.
""ah!"
said mr. perkins politely.
""well, i suppose i could easily find out by opening it.
but it is very impolite to open other people's letters.
i think i have a better plan.
since you refuse to tell me who wrote it, open it yourself, take this chalk, and copy the contents on the blackboard that we may all enjoy them.
and sign the writer's name at the bottom."
""oh," gasped cecily, choosing the lesser of two evils, "i'll tell you who wrote it -- it was -- "hush!"
mr. perkins checked her with a gentle motion of his hand.
he was always most gentle when most inexorable.
""you did not obey me when i first ordered you to tell me the writer.
you can not have the privilege of doing so now.
open the note, take the chalk, and do as i command you."
worms will turn, and even meek, mild, obedient little souls like cecily may be goaded to the point of wild, sheer rebellion.
""i -- i wo n't!"
she cried passionately.
mr. perkins, martinet though he was, would hardly, i think, have inflicted such a punishment on cecily, who was a favourite of his, had he known the real nature of that luckless missive.
but, as he afterwards admitted, he thought it was merely a note from some other girl, of such trifling sort as school-girls are wont to write; and moreover, he had already committed himself to the decree, which, like those of mede and persian, must not alter.
to let cecily off, after her mad defiance, would be to establish a revolutionary precedent.
""so you really think you wo n't?"
he queried smilingly.
""well, on second thoughts, you may take your choice.
either you will do as i have bidden you, or you will sit for three days with" -- mr. perkins" eye skimmed over the school-room to find a boy who was sitting alone -- "with cyrus brisk."
this choice of mr. perkins, who knew nothing of the little drama of emotions that went on under the routine of lessons and exercises in his domain, was purely accidental, but we took it at the time as a stroke of diabolical genius.
it left cecily no choice.
she would have done almost anything before she would have sat with cyrus brisk.
with flashing eyes she tore open the letter, snatched up the chalk, and dashed at the blackboard.
in a few minutes the contents of that letter graced the expanse usually sacred to more prosaic compositions.
i can not reproduce it verbatim, for i had no after opportunity of refreshing my memory.
but i remember that it was exceedingly sentimental and exceedingly ill-spelled -- for cecily mercilessly copied down poor cyrus" mistakes.
he wrote her that he wore her hare over his hart -- "and he stole it," cecily threw passionately over her shoulder at mr. perkins -- that her eyes were so sweet and lovely that he could n't find words nice enuf to describ them, that he could never forget how butiful she had looked in prar meeting the evening before, and that some meels he could n't eat for thinking of her, with more to the same effect and he signed it "yours till deth us do part, cyrus brisk."
as the writing proceeded we scholars exploded into smothered laughter, despite our awe of mr. perkins.
mr. perkins himself could not keep a straight face.
he turned abruptly away and looked out of the window, but we could see his shoulders shaking.
when cecily had finished and had thrown down the chalk with bitter vehemence, he turned around with a very red face.
""that will do.
you may sit down.
cyrus, since it seems you are the guilty person, take the eraser and wipe that off the board.
then go stand in the corner, facing the room, and hold your arms straight above your head until i tell you to take them down."
cyrus obeyed and cecily fled to her seat and wept, nor did mr. perkins meddle with her more that day.
she bore her burden of humiliation bitterly for several days, until she was suddenly comforted by a realization that cyrus had ceased to persecute her.
he wrote no more letters, he gazed no longer in rapt adoration, he brought no more votive offerings of gum and pencils to her shrine.
at first we thought he had been cured by the unmerciful chaffing he had to undergo from his mates, but eventually his sister told cecily the true reason.
cyrus had at last been driven to believe that cecily's aversion to him was real, and not merely the defence of maiden coyness.
if she hated him so intensely that she would rather write that note on the blackboard than sit with him, what use was it to sigh like a furnace longer for her?
mr. perkins had blighted love's young dream for cyrus with a killing frost.
thenceforth sweet cecily kept the noiseless tenor of her way unvexed by the attentions of enamoured swains.
chapter xvi.
aunt una's story felicity, and cecily, dan, felix, sara ray and i were sitting one evening on the mossy stones in uncle roger's hill pasture, where we had sat the morning the story girl told us the tale of the wedding veil of the proud princess.
but it was evening now and the valley beneath us was brimmed up with the glow of the afterlight.
behind us, two tall, shapely spruce trees rose up against the sunset, and through the dark oriel of their sundered branches an evening star looked down.
we sat on a little strip of emerald grassland and before us was a sloping meadow all white with daisies.
we were waiting for peter and the story girl.
peter had gone to markdale after dinner to spend the afternoon with his reunited parents because it was his birthday.
he had left us grimly determined to confess to his father the dark secret of his presbyterianism, and we were anxious to know what the result had been.
the story girl had gone that morning with miss reade to visit the latter's home near charlottetown, and we expected soon to see her coming gaily along over the fields from the armstrong place.
presently peter came jauntily stepping along the field path up the hill.
""has n't peter got tall?"
said cecily.
""peter is growing to be a very fine looking boy," decreed felicity.
""i notice he's got ever so much handsomer since his father came home," said dan, with a killing sarcasm that was wholly lost on felicity, who gravely responded that she supposed it was because peter felt so much freer from care and responsibility.
""what luck, peter?"
yelled dan, as soon as peter was within earshot.
""everything's all right," he shouted jubilantly.
""i told father right off, licketty-split, as soon as i got home," he added when he reached us.
""i was anxious to have it over with.
i says, solemn-like, "dad, there's something i've got to tell you, and i do n't know how you'll take it, but it ca n't be helped," i says.
dad looked pretty sober, and he says, says he, "what have you been up to, peter?
do n't be afraid to tell me.
i've been forgiven to seventy times seven, so surely i can forgive a little, too?"
"well," i says, desperate-like, "the truth is, father, i'm a presbyterian.
i made up my mind last summer, the time of the judgment day, that i'd be a presbyterian, and i've got to stick to it.
i'm sorry i ca n't be a methodist, like you and mother and aunt jane, but i ca n't and that's all there is to it," i says.
then i waited, scared-like.
but father, he just looked relieved and he says, says he, "goodness, boy, you can be a presbyterian or anything else you like, so long as it's protestant.
i'm not caring," he says.
"the main thing is that you must be good and do what's right."
i tell you," concluded peter emphatically, "father is a christian all right."
""well, i suppose your mind will be at rest now," said felicity.
""what's that you have in your buttonhole?"
""that's a four-leaved clover," answered peter exultantly.
""that means good luck for the summer.
i found it in markdale.
there ai n't much clover in carlisle this year of any kind of leaf.
the crop is going to be a failure.
your uncle roger says it's because there ai n't enough old maids in carlisle.
there's lots of them in markdale, and that's the reason, he says, why they always have such good clover crops there."
""what on earth have old maids to do with it?"
cried cecily.
""i do n't believe they've a single thing to do with it, but mr. roger says they have, and he says a man called darwin proved it.
this is the rigmarole he got off to me the other day.
the clover crop depends on there being plenty of bumble-bees, because they are the only insects with tongues long enough to -- to -- fer -- fertilize -- i think he called it the blossoms.
but mice eat bumble-bees and cats eat mice and old maids keep cats.
so your uncle roger says the more old maids the more cats, and the more cats the fewer field-mice, and the fewer field-mice the more bumble-bees, and the more bumble-bees the better clover crops."
""so do n't worry if you do get to be old maids, girls," said dan.
""remember, you'll be helping the clover crops."
""i never heard such stuff as you boys talk," said felicity, "and uncle roger is no better."
""there comes the story girl," cried cecily eagerly.
""now we'll hear all about beautiful alice's home."
the story girl was bombarded with eager questions as soon as she arrived.
miss reade's home was a dream of a place, it appeared.
the house was just covered with ivy and there was a most delightful old garden -- "and," added the story girl, with the joy of a connoisseur who has found a rare gem, "the sweetest little story connected with it.
and i saw the hero of the story too."
""where was the heroine?"
queried cecily.
""she is dead."
""oh, of course she'd have to die," exclaimed dan in disgust.
""i'd like a story where somebody lived once in awhile."
""i've told you heaps of stories where people lived," retorted the story girl.
""if this heroine had n't died there would n't have been any story.
she was miss reade's aunt and her name was una, and i believe she must have been just like miss reade herself.
miss reade told me all about her.
when we went into the garden i saw in one corner of it an old stone bench arched over by a couple of pear trees and all grown about with grass and violets.
and an old man was sitting on it -- a bent old man with long, snow-white hair and beautiful sad blue eyes.
he seemed very lonely and sorrowful and i wondered that miss reade did n't speak to him.
but she never let on she saw him and took me away to another part of the garden.
after awhile he got up and went away and then miss reade said, "come over to aunt una's seat and i will tell you about her and her lover -- that man who has just gone out.""
"oh, is n't he too old for a lover?"
i said.
""beautiful alice laughed and said it was forty years since he had been her aunt una's lover.
he had been a tall, handsome young man then, and her aunt una was a beautiful girl of nineteen.
""we went over and sat down and miss reade told me all about her.
she said that when she was a child she had heard much of her aunt una -- that she seemed to have been one of those people who are not soon forgotten, whose personality seems to linger about the scenes of their lives long after they have passed away."
""what is a personality?
is it another word for ghost?"
asked peter.
""no," said the story girl shortly.
""i ca n't stop in a story to explain words."
""i do n't believe you know what it is yourself," said felicity.
the story girl picked up her hat, which she had thrown down on the grass, and placed it defiantly on her brown curls.
""i'm going in," she announced.
""i have to help aunt olivia ice a cake tonight, and you all seem more interested in dictionaries than stories."
""that's not fair," i exclaimed.
""dan and felix and sara ray and cecily and i have never said a word.
it's mean to punish us for what peter and felicity did.
we want to hear the rest of the story.
never mind what a personality is but go on -- and, peter, you young ass, keep still."
""i only wanted to know," muttered peter sulkily.
""i do know what personality is, but it's hard to explain," said the story girl, relenting.
""it's what makes you different from dan, peter, and me different from felicity or cecily.
miss reade's aunt una had a personality that was very uncommon.
and she was beautiful, too, with white skin and night-black eyes and hair -- a "moonlight beauty," miss reade called it.
she used to keep a kind of a diary, and miss reade's mother used to read parts of it to her.
she wrote verses in it and they were lovely; and she wrote descriptions of the old garden which she loved very much.
miss reade said that everything in the garden, plot or shrub or tree, recalled to her mind some phrase or verse of her aunt una's, so that the whole place seemed full of her, and her memory haunted the walks like a faint, sweet perfume.
""una had, as i've told you, a lover; and they were to have been married on her twentieth birthday.
her wedding dress was to have been a gown of white brocade with purple violets in it.
but a little while before it she took ill with fever and died; and she was buried on her birthday instead of being married.
it was just in the time of opening roses.
her lover has been faithful to her ever since; he has never married, and every june, on her birthday, he makes a pilgrimage to the old garden and sits for a long time in silence on the bench where he used to woo her on crimson eves and moonlight nights of long ago.
miss reade says she always loves to see him sitting there because it gives her such a deep and lasting sense of the beauty and strength of love which can thus outlive time and death.
and sometimes, she says, it gives her a little eerie feeling, too, as if her aunt una were really sitting there beside him, keeping tryst, although she has been in her grave for forty years."
""it would be real romantic to die young and have your lover make a pilgrimage to your garden every year," reflected sara ray.
""it would be more comfortable to go on living and get married to him," said felicity.
""mother says all those sentimental ideas are bosh and i expect they are.
it's a wonder beautiful alice has n't a beau herself.
she is so pretty and lady-like."
""the carlisle fellows all say she is too stuck up," said dan.
""there's nobody in carlisle half good enough for her," cried the story girl, "except -- ex-cept --" "except who?"
asked felix.
""never mind," said the story girl mysteriously.
chapter xvii.
aunt olivia's wedding what a delightful, old-fashioned, wholesome excitement there was about aunt olivia's wedding!
the monday and tuesday preceding it we did not go to school at all, but were all kept home to do chores and run errands.
the cooking and decorating and arranging that went on those two days was amazing, and felicity was so happy over it all that she did not even quarrel with dan -- though she narrowly escaped it when he told her that the governor's wife was coming to the wedding.
""mind you have some of her favourite rusks for her," he said.
""i guess," said felicity with dignity, "that aunt olivia's wedding supper will be good enough for even a governor's wife."
""i s "pose none of us except the story girl will get to the first table," said felix, rather gloomily.
""never mind," comforted felicity.
""there's a whole turkey to be kept for us, and a freezerful of ice cream.
cecily and i are going to wait on the tables, and we'll put away a little of everything that's extra nice for our suppers."
""i do so want to have my supper with you," sighed sara ray, "but i s "pose ma will drag me with her wherever she goes.
she wo n't trust me out of her sight a minute the whole evening -- i know she wo n't."
""i'll get aunt olivia to ask her to let you have your supper with us," said cecily.
""she ca n't refuse the bride's request."
""you do n't know all ma can do," returned sara darkly.
""no, i feel that i'll have to eat my supper with her.
but i suppose i ought to be very thankful i'm to get to the wedding at all, and that ma did get me a new white dress for it.
even yet i'm so scared something will happen to prevent me from getting to it."
monday evening shrouded itself in clouds, and all night long the voice of the wind answered to the voice of the rain.
tuesday the downpour continued.
we were quite frantic about it.
suppose it kept on raining over wednesday!
aunt olivia could n't be married in the orchard then.
that would be too bad, especially when the late apple tree had most obligingly kept its store of blossom until after all the other trees had faded and then burst lavishly into bloom for aunt olivia's wedding.
that apple tree was always very late in blooming, and this year it was a week later than usual.
it was a sight to see -- a great tree-pyramid with high, far-spreading boughs, over which a wealth of rosy snow seemed to have been flung.
never had bride a more magnificent canopy.
to our rapture, however, it cleared up beautifully tuesday evening, and the sun, before setting in purple pomp, poured a flood of wonderful radiance over the whole great, green, diamond-dripping world, promising a fair morrow.
uncle alec drove off to the station through it to bring home the bridegroom and his best man.
dan was full of a wild idea that we should all meet them at the gate, armed with cowbells and tin-pans, and "charivari" them up the lane.
peter sided with him, but the rest of us voted down the suggestion.
""do you want dr. seton to think we are a pack of wild indians?"
asked felicity severely.
""a nice opinion he'd have of our manners!"
""well, it's the only chance we'll have to chivaree them," grumbled dan.
""aunt olivia would n't mind.
she can take a joke."
""ma would kill you if you did such a thing," warned felicity.
""dr. seton lives in halifax and they never chivaree people there.
he would think it very vulgar."
""then he should have stayed in halifax and got married there," retorted dan, sulkily.
we were very curious to see our uncle-elect.
when he came and uncle alec took him into the parlour, we were all crowded into the dark corner behind the stairs to peep at him.
then we fled to the moonlight world outside and discussed him at the dairy.
""he's bald," said cecily disappointedly.
""and rather short and stout," said felicity.
""he's forty, if he's a day," said dan.
""never you mind," cried the story girl loyally, "aunt olivia loves him with all her heart."
""and more than that, he's got lots of money," added felicity.
""well, he may be all right," said peter, "but it's my opinion that your aunt olivia could have done just as well on the island."
""your opinion does n't matter very much to our family," said felicity crushingly.
but when we made the acquaintance of dr. seton next morning we liked him enormously, and voted him a jolly good fellow.
even peter remarked aside to me that he guessed miss olivia had n't made much of a mistake after all, though it was plain he thought she was running a risk in not sticking to the island.
the girls had not much time to discuss him with us.
they were all exceedingly busy and whisked about at such a rate that they seemed to possess the power of being in half a dozen places at once.
the importance of felicity was quite terrible.
but after dinner came a lull.
""thank goodness, everything is ready at last," breathed felicity devoutly, as we foregathered for a brief space in the fir wood.
""we've nothing more to do now but get dressed.
it's really a serious thing to have a wedding in the family."
""i have a note from sara ray," said cecily.
""judy pineau brought it up when she brought mrs. ray's spoons.
just let me read it to you: -- dearest cecily: -- a dreadful misfortune has happened to me.
last night i went with judy to water the cows and in the spruce bush we found a wasps" nest and judy thought it was an old one and she poked it with a stick.
and it was a new one, full of wasps, and they all flew out and stung us terribly, on the face and hands.
my face is all swelled up and i can hardly see out of one eye.
the suffering was awful but i did n't mind that as much as being scared ma would n't take me to the wedding.
but she says i can go and i'm going.
i know that i am a hard-looking sight, but it is n't anything catching.
i am writing this so that you wo n't get a shock when you see me.
is n't it so strange to think your dear aunt olivia is going away?
how you will miss her!
but your loss will be her gain."
"au revoir," "your loving chum, sara ray.""
""that poor child," said the story girl.
""well, all i hope is that strangers wo n't take her for one of the family," remarked felicity in a disgusted tone.
aunt olivia was married at five o'clock in the orchard under the late apple tree.
it was a pretty scene.
the air was full of the perfume of apple bloom, and the bees blundered foolishly and delightfully from one blossom to another, half drunken with perfume.
the old orchard was full of smiling guests in wedding garments.
aunt olivia was most beautiful amid the frost of her bridal veil, and the story girl, in an unusually long white dress, with her brown curls clubbed up behind, looked so tall and grown-up that we hardly recognized her.
after the ceremony -- during which sara ray cried all the time -- there was a royal wedding supper, and sara ray was permitted to eat her share of the feast with us.
""i'm glad i was stung by the wasps after all," she said delightedly.
""if i had n't been ma would never have let me eat with you.
she just got tired explaining to people what was the matter with my face, and so she was glad to get rid of me.
i know i look awful, but, oh, was n't the bride a dream?"
we missed the story girl, who, of course, had to have her supper at the bridal table; but we were a hilarious little crew and the girls had nobly kept their promise to save tid-bits for us.
by the time the last table was cleared away aunt olivia and our new uncle were ready to go.
there was an orgy of tears and leavetakings, and then they drove away into the odorous moonlight night.
dan and peter pursued them down the lane with a fiendish din of bells and pans, much to felicity's wrath.
but aunt olivia and uncle robert took it in good part and waved their hands back to us with peals of laughter.
""they're just that pleased with themselves that they would n't mind if there was an earthquake," said felix, grinning.
""it's been splendid and exciting, and everything went off well," sighed cecily, "but, oh dear, it's going to be so queer and lonesome without aunt olivia.
i just believe i'll cry all night."
""you're tired to death, that's what's the matter with you," said dan, returning.
""you girls have worked like slaves today."
""tomorrow will be even harder," said felicity comfortingly.
""everything will have to be cleaned up and put away."
peg bowen paid us a call the next day and was regaled with a feast of fat things left over from the supper.
""well, i've had all i can eat," she said, when she had finished and brought out her pipe.
""and that does n't happen to me every day.
there ai n't been as much marrying as there used to be, and half the time they just sneak off to the minister, as if they were ashamed of it, and get married without any wedding or supper.
that ai n't the king way, though.
and so olivia's gone off at last.
she were n't in any hurry but they tell me she's done well.
time'll show."
""why do n't you get married yourself, peg?"
queried uncle roger teasingly.
we held our breath over his temerity.
""because i'm not so easy to please as your wife will be," retorted peg.
she departed in high good humour over her repartee.
meeting sara ray on the doorstep she stopped and asked her what was the matter with her face.
""wasps," stammered sara ray, laconic from terror.
""humph!
and your hands?"
""warts."
""i'll tell you what'll take them away.
you get a pertater and go out under the full moon, cut the pertater in two, rub your warts with one half and say, "one, two, three, warts, go away from me."
then rub them with the other half and say, "one, two, three, four, warts, never trouble me more."
then bury the pertater and never tell a living soul where you buried it.
you wo n't have no more warts.
mind you bury the pertater, though.
if you do n't, and anyone picks it up, she'll get your warts."
chapter xviii.
sara ray helps out we all missed aunt olivia greatly; she had been so merry and companionable, and had possessed such a knack of understanding small fry.
but youth quickly adapts itself to changed conditions; in a few weeks it seemed as if the story girl had always been living at uncle alec's, and as if uncle roger had always had a fat, jolly housekeeper with a double chin and little, twinkling blue eyes.
i do n't think aunt janet ever quite got over missing aunt olivia, or looked upon mrs. hawkins as anything but a necessary evil; but life resumed its even tenor on the king farm, broken only by the ripples of excitement over the school concert and letters from aunt olivia describing her trip through the land of evangeline.
we incorporated the letters in our magazine under the heading "from our special correspondent" and were very proud of them.
at the end of june our school concert came off and was a great event in our young lives.
it was the first appearance of most of us on any platform, and some of us were very nervous.
we all had recitations, except dan, who had refused flatly to take any part and was consequently care-free.
""i'm sure i shall die when i find myself up on that platform, facing people," sighed sara ray, as we talked the affair over in uncle stephen's walk the night before the concert.
""i'm afraid i'll faint," was cecily's more moderate foreboding.
""i'm not one single bit nervous," said felicity complacently.
""i'm not nervous this time," said the story girl, "but the first time i recited i was."
""my aunt jane," remarked peter, "used to say that an old teacher of hers told her that when she was going to recite or speak in public she must just get it firmly into her mind that it was only a lot of cabbage heads she had before her, and she would n't be nervous."
""one might n't be nervous, but i do n't think there would be much inspiration in reciting to cabbage heads," said the story girl decidedly.
""i want to recite to people, and see them looking interested and thrilled."
""if i can only get through my piece without breaking down i do n't care whether i thrill people or not," said sara ray.
""i'm afraid i'll forget mine and get stuck," foreboded felix.
""some of you fellows be sure and prompt me if i do -- and do it quick, so's i wo n't get worse rattled."
""i know one thing," said cecily resolutely, "and that is, i'm going to curl my hair for to-morrow night.
i've never curled it since peter almost died, but i simply must tomorrow night, for all the other girls are going to have theirs in curls."
""the dew and heat will take all the curl out of yours and then you'll look like a scarecrow," warned felicity.
""no, i wo n't.
i'm going to put my hair up in paper tonight and wet it with a curling-fluid that judy pineau uses.
sara brought me up a bottle of it.
judy says it is great stuff -- your hair will keep in curl for days, no matter how damp the weather is.
i'll leave my hair in the papers till tomorrow evening, and then i'll have beautiful curls."
""you'd better leave your hair alone," said dan gruffly.
""smooth hair is better than a lot of fly-away curls."
but cecily was not to be persuaded.
curls she craved and curls she meant to have.
""i'm thankful my warts have all gone, any-way," said sara ray.
""so they have," exclaimed felicity.
""did you try peg's recipe?"
""yes.
i did n't believe in it but i tried it.
for the first few days afterwards i kept watching my warts, but they did n't go away, and then i gave up and forgot them.
but one day last week i just happened to look at my hands and there was n't a wart to be seen.
it was the most amazing thing."
""and yet you'll say peg bowen is n't a witch," said peter.
""pshaw, it was just the potato juice," scoffed dan.
""it was a dry old potato i had, and there was n't much juice in it," said sara ray.
""one hardly knows what to believe.
but one thing is certain -- my warts are gone."
cecily put her hair up in curl-papers that night, thoroughly soaked in judy pineau's curling-fluid.
it was a nasty job, for the fluid was very sticky, but cecily persevered and got it done.
then she went to bed with a towel tied over her head to protect the pillow.
she did not sleep well and had uncanny dreams, but she came down to breakfast with an expression of triumph.
the story girl examined her head critically and said, "cecily, if i were you i'd take those papers out this morning."
""oh, no; if i do my hair will be straight again by night.
i mean to leave them in till the last minute."
""i would n't do that -- i really would n't," persisted the story girl.
""if you do your hair will be too curly and all bushy and fuzzy."
cecily finally yielded and went upstairs with the story girl.
presently we heard a little shriek -- then two little shrieks -- then three.
then felicity came flying down and called her mother.
aunt janet went up and presently came down again with a grim mouth.
she filled a large pan with warm water and carried it upstairs.
we dared ask her no questions, but when felicity came down to wash the dishes we bombarded her.
""what on earth is the matter with cecily?"
demanded dan.
""is she sick?"
""no, she is n't.
i warned her not to put her hair in curls but she would n't listen to me.
i guess she wishes she had now.
when people have n't natural curly hair they should n't try to make it curly.
they get punished if they do."
""look here, felicity, never mind all that.
just tell us what has happened sis."
""well, this is what has happened her.
that ninny of a sara ray brought up a bottle of mucilage instead of judy's curling-fluid, and cecily put her hair up with that.
it's in an awful state."
""good gracious!"
exclaimed dan.
""look here, will she ever get it out?"
""goodness knows.
she's got her head in soak now.
her hair is just matted together hard as a board.
that's what comes of vanity," said felicity, than whom no vainer girl existed.
poor cecily paid dearly enough for her vanity.
she spent a bad forenoon, made no easier by her mother's severe rebukes.
for an hour she "soaked" her head; that is, she stood over a panful of warm water and kept dipping her head in with tightly shut eyes.
finally her hair softened sufficiently to be disentangled from the curl papers; and then aunt janet subjected it to a merciless shampoo.
eventually they got all the mucilage washed out of it and cecily spent the remainder of the forenoon sitting before the open oven door in the hot kitchen drying her ill-used tresses.
she felt very down-hearted; her hair was of that order which, glossy and smooth normally, is dry and harsh and lustreless for several days after being shampooed.
""i'll look like a fright tonight," said the poor child to me with trembling voice.
""the ends will be sticking out all over my head."
""sara ray is a perfect idiot," i said wrathfully "oh, do n't be hard on poor sara.
she did n't mean to bring me mucilage.
it's really all my own fault, i know.
i made a solemn vow when peter was dying that i would never curl my hair again, and i should have kept it.
it is n't right to break solemn vows.
but my hair will look like dried hay tonight."
poor sara ray was quite overwhelmed when she came up and found what she had done.
felicity was very hard on her, and aunt janet was coldly disapproving, but sweet cecily forgave her unreservedly, and they walked to the school that night with their arms about each other's waists as usual.
the school-room was crowded with friends and neighbours.
mr. perkins was flying about, getting things into readiness, and miss reade, who was the organist of the evening, was sitting on the platform, looking her sweetest and prettiest.
she wore a delightful white lace hat with a fetching little wreath of tiny forget-me-nots around the brim, a white muslin dress with sprays of blue violets scattered over it, and a black lace scarf.
""does n't she look angelic?"
said cecily rapturously.
""mind you," said sara ray, "the awkward man is here -- in the corner behind the door.
i never remember seeing him at a concert before."
""i suppose he came to hear the story girl recite," said felicity.
""he is such a friend of hers."
the concert went off very well.
dialogues, choruses and recitations followed each other in rapid succession.
felix got through his without "getting stuck," and peter did excellently, though he stuffed his hands in his trousers pockets -- a habit of which mr. perkins had vainly tried to break him.
peter's recitation was one greatly in vogue at that time, beginning, "my name is norval; on the grampian hills my father feeds his flocks."
at our first practice peter had started gaily in, rushing through the first line with no thought whatever of punctuation -- "my name is norval on the grampian hills."
""stop, stop, peter," quoth mr. perkins, sarcastically, "your name might be norval if you were never on the grampian hills.
there's a semi-colon in that line, i wish you to remember."
peter did remember it.
cecily neither fainted nor failed when it came her turn.
she recited her little piece very well, though somewhat mechanically.
i think she really did much better than if she had had her desired curls.
the miserable conviction that her hair, alone among that glossy-tressed bevy, was looking badly, quite blotted out all nervousness and self-consciousness from her mind.
her hair apart, she looked very pretty.
the prevailing excitement had made bright her eye and flushed her cheeks rosily -- too rosily, perhaps.
i heard a carlisle woman behind me whisper that cecily king looked consumptive, just like her aunt felicity; and i hated her fiercely for it.
sara ray also managed to get through respectably, although she was pitiably nervous.
her bow was naught but a short nod -- "as if her head worked on wires," whispered felicity uncharitably -- and the wave of her lily-white hand more nearly resembled an agonized jerk than a wave.
we all felt relieved when she finished.
she was, in a sense, one of "our crowd," and we had been afraid she would disgrace us by breaking down.
felicity followed her and recited her selection without haste, without rest, and absolutely without any expression whatever.
but what mattered it how she recited?
to look at her was sufficient.
what with her splendid fleece of golden curls, her great, brilliant blue eyes, her exquisitely tinted face, her dimpled hands and arms, every member of the audience must have felt it was worth the ten cents he had paid merely to see her.
the story girl followed.
an expectant silence fell over the room, and mr. perkins" face lost the look of tense anxiety it had worn all the evening.
here was a performer who could be depended on.
no need to fear stage fright or forgetfulness on her part.
the story girl was not looking her best that night.
white never became her, and her face was pale, though her eyes were splendid.
but nobody thought about her appearance when the power and magic of her voice caught and held her listeners spellbound.
her recitation was an old one, figuring in one of the school readers, and we scholars all knew it off by heart.
sara ray alone had not heard the story girl recite it.
the latter had not been drilled at practices as had the other pupils, mr. perkins choosing not to waste time teaching her what she already knew far better than he did.
the only time she had recited it had been at the "dress rehearsal" two nights before, at which sara ray had not been present.
in the poem a florentine lady of old time, wedded to a cold and cruel husband, had died, or was supposed to have died, and had been carried to "the rich, the beautiful, the dreadful tomb" of her proud family.
in the night she wakened from her trance and made her escape.
chilled and terrified, she had made her way to her husband's door, only to be driven away brutally as a restless ghost by the horror-stricken inmates.
a similar reception awaited her at her father's.
then she had wandered blindly through the streets of florence until she had fallen exhausted at the door of the lover of her girlhood.
he, unafraid, had taken her in and cared for her.
on the morrow, the husband and father, having discovered the empty tomb, came to claim her.
she refused to return to them and the case was carried to the court of law.
the verdict given was that a woman who had been "to burial borne" and left for dead, who had been driven from her husband's door and from her childhood home, "must be adjudged as dead in law and fact," was no more daughter or wife, but was set free to form what new ties she would.
the climax of the whole selection came in the line, "the court pronounces the defendant -- dead!"
and the story girl was wont to render it with such dramatic intensity and power that the veriest dullard among her listeners could not have missed its force and significance.
she swept along through the poem royally, playing on the emotions of her audience as she had so often played on ours in the old orchard.
pity, terror, indignation, suspense, possessed her hearers in turn.
in the court scene she surpassed herself.
she was, in very truth, the florentine judge, stern, stately, impassive.
her voice dropped into the solemnity of the all-important line," "the court pronounces the defendant --"" she paused for a breathless moment, the better to bring out the tragic import of the last word.
""dead," piped up sara ray in her shrill, plaintive little voice.
the effect, to use a hackneyed but convenient phrase, can better be imagined than described.
instead of the sigh of relieved tension that should have swept over the audience at the conclusion of the line, a burst of laughter greeted it.
the story girl's performance was completely spoiled.
she dealt the luckless sara a glance that would have slain her on the spot could glances kill, stumbled lamely and impotently through the few remaining lines of her recitation, and fled with crimson cheeks to hide her mortification in the little corner that had been curtained off for a dressing-room.
mr. perkins looked things not lawful to be uttered, and the audience tittered at intervals for the rest of the performance.
sara ray alone remained serenely satisfied until the close of the concert, when we surrounded her with a whirlwind of reproaches.
""why," she stammered aghast, "what did i do?
i -- i thought she was stuck and that i ought to prompt her quick."
""you little fool, she just paused for effect," cried felicity angrily.
felicity might be rather jealous of the story girl's gift, but she was furious at beholding "one of our family" made ridiculous in such a fashion.
""you have less sense than anyone i ever heard of, sara ray."
poor sara dissolved in tears.
""i did n't know.
i thought she was stuck," she wailed again.
she cried all the way home, but we did not try to comfort her.
we felt quite out of patience with her.
even cecily was seriously annoyed.
this second blunder of sara's was too much even for her loyalty.
we saw her turn in at her own gate and go sobbing up her lane with no relenting.
the story girl was home before us, having fled from the schoolhouse as soon as the programme was over.
we tried to sympathize with her but she would not be sympathized with.
""please do n't ever mention it to me again," she said, with compressed lips.
""i never want to be reminded of it.
oh, that little idiot!"
""she spoiled peter's sermon last summer and now she's spoiled your recitation," said felicity.
""i think it's time we gave up associating with sara ray."
""oh, do n't be quite so hard on her," pleaded cecily.
""think of the life the poor child has to live at home.
i know she'll cry all night."
""oh, let's go to bed," growled dan.
""i'm good and ready for it.
i've had enough of school concerts."
chapter xix.
by way of the stars but for two of us the adventures of the night were not yet over.
silence settled down over the old house -- the eerie, whisperful, creeping silence of night.
felix and dan were already sound asleep; i was drifting near the coast o" dreams when i was aroused by a light tap on the door.
""bev, are you asleep?"
came in the story girl's whisper.
""no, what is it?"
""s-s-h.
get up and dress and come out.
i want you."
with a good deal of curiosity and some misgiving i obeyed.
what was in the wind now?
outside in the hall i found the story girl, with a candle in her hand, and her hat and jacket.
""where are you going?"
i whispered in amazement.
""hush.
i've got to go to the school and you must come with me.
i left my coral necklace there.
the clasp came loose and i was so afraid i'd lose it that i took it off and put it in the bookcase.
i was feeling so upset when the concert was over that i forgot all about it."
the coral necklace was a very handsome one which had belonged to the story girl's mother.
she had never been permitted to wear it before, and it had only been by dint of much coaxing that she had induced aunt janet to let her wear it to the concert.
""but there's no sense in going for it in the dead of night," i objected.
""it will be quite safe.
you can go for it in the morning."
""lizzie paxton and her daughter are going to clean the school tomorrow, and i heard lizzie say tonight she meant to be at it by five o'clock to get through before the heat of the day.
you know perfectly well what liz paxton's reputation is.
if she finds that necklace i'll never see it again.
besides, if i wait till the morning, aunt janet may find out that i left it there and she'd never let me wear it again.
no, i'm going for it now.
if you're afraid," added the story girl with delicate scorn, "of course you need n't come."
afraid!
i'd show her!
""come on," i said.
we slipped out of the house noiselessly and found ourselves in the unutterable solemnity and strangeness of a dark night.
it was a new experience, and our hearts thrilled and our nerves tingled to the charm of it.
never had we been abroad before at such an hour.
the world around us was not the world of daylight.
't was an alien place, full of weird, evasive enchantment and magicry.
only in the country can one become truly acquainted with the night.
there it has the solemn calm of the infinite.
the dim wide fields lie in silence, wrapped in the holy mystery of darkness.
a wind, loosened from wild places far away, steals out to blow over dewy, star-lit, immemorial hills.
the air in the pastures is sweet with the hush of dreams, and one may rest here like a child on its mother's breast.
""is n't it wonderful?"
breathed the story girl as we went down the long hill.
""do you know, i can forgive sara ray now.
i thought tonight i never could -- but now it does n't matter any more.
i can even see how funny it was.
oh, was n't it funny?
"dead" in that squeaky little voice of sara's!
i'll just behave to her tomorrow as if nothing had happened.
it seems so long ago now, here in the night."
neither of us ever forgot the subtle delight of that stolen walk.
a spell of glamour was over us.
the breezes whispered strange secrets of elf-haunted glens, and the hollows where the ferns grew were brimmed with mystery and romance.
ghostlike scents crept out of the meadows to meet us, and the fir wood before we came to the church was a living sweetness of junebells growing in abundance.
junebells have another and more scientific name, of course.
but who could desire a better name than junebells?
they are so perfect in their way that they seem to epitomize the very scent and charm of the forest, as if the old wood's daintiest thoughts had materialized in blossom; and not all the roses by bendameer's stream are as fragrant as a shallow sheet of junebells under the boughs of fir.
there were fireflies abroad that night, too, increasing the gramarye of it.
there is certainly something a little supernatural about fireflies.
nobody pretends to understand them.
they are akin to the tribes of fairy, survivals of the elder time when the woods and hills swarmed with the little green folk.
it is still very easy to believe in fairies when you see those goblin lanterns glimmering among the fir tassels.
""is n't it beautiful?"
said the story girl in rapture.
""i would n't have missed it for anything.
i'm glad i left my necklace.
and i am glad you are with me, bev.
the others would n't understand so well.
i like you because i do n't have to talk to you all the time.
it's so nice to walk with someone you do n't have to talk to.
here is the graveyard.
are you frightened to pass it, bev?"
""no, i do n't think i'm frightened," i answered slowly, "but i have a queer feeling."
""so have i.
but it is n't fear.
i do n't know what it is.
i feel as if something was reaching out of the graveyard to hold me -- something that wanted life -- i do n't like it -- let's hurry.
but is n't it strange to think of all the dead people in there who were once alive like you and me.
i do n't feel as if i could ever die.
do you?"
""no, but everybody must.
of course we go on living afterwards, just the same.
do n't let's talk of such things here," i said hurriedly.
when we reached the school i contrived to open a window.
we scrambled in, lighted a lamp and found the missing necklace.
the story girl stood on the platform and gave an imitation of the catastrophe of the evening that made me shout with laughter.
we prowled around for sheer delight over being there at an unearthly hour when everybody supposed we were sound asleep in our beds.
it was with regret that we left, and we walked home as slowly as we could to prolong the adventure.
""let's never tell anyone," said the story girl, as we reached home.
""let's just have it as a secret between us for ever and ever -- something that nobody else knows a thing about but you and me."
""we'd better keep it a secret from aunt janet anyhow," i whispered, laughing.
""she'd think we were both crazy."
""it's real jolly to be crazy once in a while," said the story girl.
chapter xx.
extracts from "our magazine" editorial as will be seen there is no honour roll in this number.
even felicity has thought all the beautiful thoughts that can be thought and can not think any more.
peter has never got drunk but, under existing circumstances, that is not greatly to his credit.
as for our written resolutions they have silently disappeared from our chamber walls and the place that once knew them knows them no more for ever.
-lrb- peter, perplexedly: "seems to me i've heard something like that before." -rrb-
it is very sad but we will all make some new resolutions next year and maybe it will be easier to keep those.
the story of the locket that was baked this was a story my aunt jane told me about her granma when she was a little girl.
its funny to think of baking a locket, but it was n't to eat.
she was my great granma but ill call her granma for short.
it happened when she was ten years old.
of course she wasent anybodys granma then.
her father and mother and her were living in a new settlement called brinsley.
their nearest naybor was a mile away.
one day her aunt hannah from charlottetown came and wanted her ma to go visiting with her.
at first granma's ma thought she couldent go because it was baking day and granma's pa was away.
but granma wasent afraid to stay alone and she knew how to bake the bread so she made her ma go and her aunt hannah took off the handsome gold locket and chain she was waring round her neck and hung it on granmas and told her she could ware it all day.
granma was awful pleased for she had never had any jewelry.
she did all the chores and then was needing the loaves when she looked up and saw a tramp coming in and he was an awful villenus looking tramp.
he dident even pass the time of day but just set down on a chair.
poor granma was awful fritened and she turned her back on him and went on needing the loaf cold and trembling -- that is, granma was trembling not the loaf.
she was worried about the locket.
she did n't know how she could hide it for to get anywhere she would have to turn round and pass him.
all of a suddent she thought she would hide it in the bread.
she put her hand up and pulled it hard and quick and broke the fastening and needed it right into the loaf.
then she put the loaf in the pan and set it in the oven.
the tramp hadent seen her do it and then he asked for something to eat.
granma got him up a meal and when hed et it he began prowling about the kitchen looking into everything and opening the cubbord doors.
then he went into granma's mas room and turned the buro drawers and trunk inside out and threw the things in them all about.
all he found was a purse with a dollar in it and he swore about it and took it and went away.
when granma was sure he was really gone she broke down and cried.
she forgot all about the bread and it burned as black as coal.
when she smelled it burning granma run and pulled it out.
she was awful scared the locket was spoiled but she sawed open the loaf and it was there safe and sound.
when her aunt hannah came back she said granma deserved the locket because she had saved it so clever and she gave it to her and grandma always wore it and was very proud of it.
and granma used to say that was the only loaf of bread she ever spoiled in her life.
peter craig.
-lrb- felicity: "those stories are all very well but they are only true stories.
it's easy enough to write true stories.
i thought peter was appointed fiction editor, but he has never written any fiction since the paper started.
that's not my idea of a fiction editor.
he ought to make up stories out of his own head."
peter, spunkily: "i can do it, too, and i will next time.
and it ai n't easier to write true stories.
it's harder,'cause you have to stick to facts."
felicity: "i do n't believe you could make up a story."
peter: "i'll show you!" -rrb-
my most exciting adventure it's my turn to write it but i'm so nervous.
my worst adventure happened two years ago.
it was an awful one.
i had a striped ribbon, striped brown and yellow and i lost it.
i was very sorry for it was a handsome ribbon and all the girls in school were jealous of it.
-lrb- felicity: "i was n't.
i did n't think it one bit pretty."
cecily: "hush!" -rrb-
i hunted everywhere but i could n't find it.
next day was sunday and i was running into the house by the front door and i saw something lying on the step and i thought it was my ribbon and i made a grab at it as i passed.
but, oh, it was a snake!
oh, i can never describe how i felt when i felt that awful thing wriggling in my hand.
i let it go and screamed and screamed, and ma was cross at me for yelling on sunday and made me read seven chapters in the bible but i did n't mind that much after what i had come through.
i would rather die than have such an experience again.
sara ray.
to felicity on her berthday oh maiden fair with golden hair and brow of purest white, id fight for you i'd die for you let me be your faithful knite.
this is your berthday blessed day you are thirteen years old today may you be happy and fair as you are now until your hair is gray.
i gaze into your shining eyes, they are so blue and bright.
id fight for you id die for you let me be your faithful knite.
a friend.
-lrb- dan: "great snakes, who got that up?
i'll bet it was peter."
felicity, with dignity: "well, it's more than you could do.
you could n't write poetry to save your life."
peter, aside to beverley: "she seems quite pleased.
i'm glad i wrote it, but it was awful hard work." -rrb-
personals patrick grayfur, esq., caused his friends great anxiety recently by a prolonged absence from home.
when found he was very thin but is now as fat and conceited as ever.
on wednesday, june 20th, miss olivia king was united in the bonds of holy matrimony to dr. robert seton of halifax.
miss sara stanley was bridesmaid, and mr. andrew seton attended the groom.
the young couple received many handsome presents.
rev. mr. marwood tied the nuptial knot.
after the ceremony a substantial repast was served in mrs. alex king's well-known style and the happy couple left for their new home in nova scotia.
their many friends join in wishing them a very happy and prosperous journey through life.
a precious one from us is gone, a voice we loved is stilled.
a place is vacant in our home that never can be filled.
-lrb- the story girl: "goodness, that sounds as if somebody had died.
i've seen that verse on a tombstone.
who wrote that notice?"
felicity, who wrote it: "i think it is just as appropriate to a wedding as to a funeral!" -rrb-
our school concert came off on the evening of june 29th and was a great success.
we made ten dollars for the library.
we regret to chronicle that miss sara ray met with a misfortune while taking some violent exercise with a wasps" nest recently.
the moral is that it is better not to monkey with a wasps" nest, new or old.
mrs. c. b. hawkins of baywater is keeping house for uncle roger.
she is a very large woman.
uncle roger says he has to spend too much time walking round her, but otherwise she is an excellent housekeeper.
it is reported that the school is haunted.
a mysterious light was seen there at two o'clock one night recently.
-lrb- the story girl and i exchange knowing smiles behind the others" backs. -rrb-
dan and felicity had a fight last tuesday -- not with fists but with tongues.
dan came off best -- as usual.
-lrb- felicity laughs sarcastically. -rrb-
mr. newton craig of markdale returned home recently after a somewhat prolonged visit in foreign parts.
we are glad to welcome mr. craig back to our midst.
billy robinson was hurt last week.
a cow kicked him.
i suppose it is wicked of us to feel glad but we all do feel glad because of the way he cheated us with the magic seed last summer.
on april 1st uncle roger sent mr. peter craig to the manse to borrow the biography of adam's grandfather.
mr. marwood told peter he did n't think adam had any grandfather and advised him to go home and look at the almanac.
-lrb- peter, sourly: "your uncle roger thought he was pretty smart."
felicity, severely: "uncle roger is smart.
it was so easy to fool you." -rrb-
a pair of blue birds have built a nest in a hole in the sides of the well, just under the ferns.
we can see the eggs when we look down.
they are so cunning.
felix sat down on a tack one day in may.
felix thinks house-cleaning is great foolishness.
ads.
lost -- stolen -- or strayed -- a heart.
finder will be rewarded by returning same to cyrus e. brisk, desk 7, carlisle school.
lost or stolen.
a piece of brown hair about three inches long and one inch thick.
finder will kindly return to miss cecily king, desk 15, carlisle school.
-lrb- cecily: "cyrus keeps my hair in his bible for a bookmark, so flossie tells me.
he says he means to keep it always for a remembrance though he has given up hope."
dan: "i'll steal it out of his bible in sunday school."
cecily, blushing: "oh, let him keep it if it is any comfort to him.
besides, it is n't right to steal."
dan: "he stole it."
cecily: "but mr. marwood says two wrongs never make a right." -rrb-
household department aunt olivia's wedding cake was said to be the best one of its kind ever tasted in carlisle.
me and mother made it.
anxious inquirer: -- it is not advisable to curl your hair with mucilage if you can get anything else.
quince juice is better.
-lrb- cecily, bitterly: "i suppose i'll never hear the last of that mucilage."
dan: "ask her who used tooth-powder to raise biscuits?" -rrb-
we had rhubarb pies for the first time this spring last week.
they were fine but hard on the cream.
felicity king.
etiquette department patient sufferer: -- what will i do when a young man steals a lock of my hair?
ans.: -- grow some more.
no, f-l-x, a little caterpillar is not called a kittenpillar.
-lrb- felix, enraged: "i never asked that!
dan just makes that etiquette column up from beginning to end!"
felicity: "i do n't see what that kind of a question has to do with etiquette anyhow." -rrb-
yes, p-t-r, it is quite proper to treat a lady friend to ice cream twice if you can afford it.
no, f-l-c-t-y, it is not ladylike to chew tobacco.
better stick to spruce gum.
dan king.
fashion notes frilled muslin aprons will be much worn this summer.
it is no longer fashionable to trim them with knitted lace.
one pocket is considered smart.
clam-shells are fashionable keepsakes.
you write your name and the date inside one and your friend writes hers in the other and you exchange.
cecily king.
funny paragraphs mr. perkins: -- "peter, name the large islands of the world."
peter: -- "the island, the british isles and australia."
-lrb- peter, defiantly: "well, mr. perkins said he guessed i was right, so you need n't laugh." -rrb-
this is a true joke and really happened.
it's about mr. samuel clask again.
he was once leading a prayer meeting and he looked through the window and saw the constable driving up and guessed he was after him because he was always in debt.
so in a great hurry he called on brother casey to lead in prayer and while brother casey was praying with his eyes shut and everybody else had their heads bowed mr. clask got out of the window and got away before the constable got in because he did n't like to come in till the prayer was finished.
uncle roger says it was a smart trick on mr. clask's part, but i do n't think there was much religion about it.
felix king.
chapter xxi.
peg bowen comes to church when those of us who are still left of that band of children who played long years ago in the old orchard and walked the golden road together in joyous companionship, foregather now and again in our busy lives and talk over the events of those many merry moons -- there are some of our adventures that gleam out more vividly in memory than the others, and are oftener discussed.
the time we bought god's picture from jerry cowan -- the time dan ate the poison berries -- the time we heard the ghostly bell ring -- the bewitchment of paddy -- the visit of the governor's wife -- and the night we were lost in the storm -- all awaken reminiscent jest and laughter; but none more than the recollection of the sunday peg bowen came to church and sat in our pew.
though goodness knows, as felicity would say, we did not think it any matter for laughter at the time -- far from it.
it was one sunday evening in july.
uncle alec and aunt janet, having been out to the morning service, did not attend in the evening, and we small fry walked together down the long hill road, wearing sunday attire and trying, more or less successfully, to wear sunday faces also.
those walks to church, through the golden completeness of the summer evenings, were always very pleasant to us, and we never hurried, though, on the other hand, we were very careful not to be late.
this particular evening was particularly beautiful.
it was cool after a hot day, and wheat fields all about us were ripening to their harvestry.
the wind gossiped with the grasses along our way, and over them the buttercups danced, goldenly-glad.
waves of sinuous shadow went over the ripe hayfields, and plundering bees sang a freebooting lilt in wayside gardens.
""the world is so lovely tonight," said the story girl.
""i just hate the thought of going into the church and shutting all the sunlight and music outside.
i wish we could have the service outside in summer."
""i do n't think that would be very religious," said felicity.
""i'd feel ever so much more religious outside than in," retorted the story girl.
""if the service was outside we'd have to sit in the graveyard and that would n't be very cheerful," said felix.
""besides, the music is n't shut out," added felicity.
""the choir is inside.""
"music has charms to soothe a savage breast,"" quoted peter, who was getting into the habit of adorning his conversation with similar gems.
""that's in one of shakespeare's plays.
i'm reading them now, since i got through with the bible.
they're great."
""i do n't see when you get time to read them," said felicity.
""oh, i read them sunday afternoons when i'm home."
""i do n't believe they're fit to read on sundays," exclaimed felicity.
""mother says valeria montague's stories ai n't."
""but shakespeare's different from valeria," protested peter.
""i do n't see in what way.
he wrote a lot of things that were n't true, just like valeria, and he wrote swear words too.
valeria never does that.
her characters all talk in a very refined fashion."
""well, i always skip the swear words," said peter.
""and mr. marwood said once that the bible and shakespeare would furnish any library well.
so you see he put them together, but i'm sure that he would never say that the bible and valeria would make a library."
""well, all i know is, i shall never read shakespeare on sunday," said felicity loftily.
""i wonder what kind of a preacher young mr. davidson is," speculated cecily.
""well, we'll know when we hear him tonight," said the story girl.
""he ought to be good, for his uncle before him was a fine preacher, though a very absent-minded man.
but uncle roger says the supply in mr. marwood's vacation never amounts to much.
i know an awfully funny story about old mr. davidson.
he used to be the minister in baywater, you know, and he had a large family and his children were very mischievous.
one day his wife was ironing and she ironed a great big nightcap with a frill round it.
one of the children took it when she was n't looking and hid it in his father's best beaver hat -- the one he wore on sundays.
when mr. davidson went to church next sunday he put the hat on without ever looking into the crown.
he walked to church in a brown study and at the door he took off his hat.
the nightcap just slipped down on his head, as if it had been put on, and the frill stood out around his face and the string hung down his back.
but he never noticed it, because his thoughts were far away, and he walked up the church aisle and into the pulpit, like that.
one of his elders had to tiptoe up and tell him what he had on his head.
he plucked it off in a dazed fashion, held it up, and looked at it.
"bless me, it is sally's nightcap!"
he exclaimed mildly."
i do not know how i could have got it on."
then he just stuffed it into his pocket calmly and went on with the service, and the long strings of the nightcap hung down out of his pocket all the time."
""it seems to me," said peter, amid the laughter with which we greeted the tale, "that a funny story is funnier when it is about a minister than it is about any other man.
i wonder why."
""sometimes i do n't think it is right to tell funny stories about ministers," said felicity.
""it certainly is n't respectful."
""a good story is a good story -- no matter who it's about," said the story girl with ungrammatical relish.
there was as yet no one in the church when we reached it, so we took our accustomed ramble through the graveyard surrounding it.
the story girl had brought flowers for her mother's grave as usual, and while she arranged them on it the rest of us read for the hundredth time the epitaph on great-grandfather king's tombstone, which had been composed by great-grandmother king.
that epitaph was quite famous among the little family traditions that entwine every household with mingled mirth and sorrow, smiles and tears.
it had a perennial fascination for us and we read it over every sunday.
cut deeply in the upright slab of red island sandstone, the epitaph ran as follows: -- sweet departed spirit do receive the vows a grateful widow pays, each future day and night shall hear her speak her isaac's praise.
though thy beloved form must in the grave decay yet from her heart thy memory no time, no change shall steal away.
do thou from mansions of eternal bliss remember thy distressed relict.
look on her with an angel's love -- soothe her sad life and cheer her end through this world's dangers and its griefs.
then meet her with thy well-known smiles and welcome at the last great day.
""well, i ca n't make out what the old lady was driving at," said dan.
""that's a nice way to speak of your great-grandmother," said felicity severely.
""how does the family guide say you ought to speak of your great-grandma, sweet one?"
asked dan.
""there is one thing about it that puzzles me," remarked cecily.
""she calls herself a grateful widow.
now, what was she grateful for?"
""because she was rid of him at last," said graceless dan.
""oh, it could n't have been that," protested cecily seriously.
""i've always heard that great-grandfather and great-grandmother were very much attached to each other."
""maybe, then, it means she was grateful that she'd had him as long as she did," suggested peter.
""she was grateful to him because he had been so kind to her in life, i think," said felicity.
""what is a "distressed relict"?"
asked felix."
"relict" is a word i hate," said the story girl.
""it sounds so much like relic.
relict means just the same as widow, only a man can be a relict, too."
""great-grandmother seemed to run short of rhymes at the last of the epitaph," commented dan.
""finding rhymes is n't as easy as you might think," avowed peter, out of his own experience.
""i think grandmother king intended the last of the epitaph to be in blank verse," said felicity with dignity.
there was still only a sprinkling of people in the church when we went in and took our places in the old-fashioned, square king pew.
we had just got comfortably settled when felicity said in an agitated whisper, "here is peg bowen!"
we all stared at peg, who was pacing composedly up the aisle.
we might be excused for so doing, for seldom were the decorous aisles of carlisle church invaded by such a figure.
peg was dressed in her usual short drugget skirt, rather worn and frayed around the bottom, and a waist of brilliant turkey red calico.
she wore no hat, and her grizzled black hair streamed in elf locks over her shoulders.
face, arms and feet were bare -- and face, arms and feet were liberally powdered with flour.
certainly no one who saw peg that night could ever forget the apparition.
peg's black eyes, in which shone a more than usually wild and fitful light, roved scrutinizingly over the church, then settled on our pew.
""she's coming here," whispered felicity in horror.
""ca n't we spread out and make her think the pew is full?"
but the manoeuvre was too late.
the only result was that felicity and the story girl in moving over left a vacant space between them and peg promptly plumped down in it.
""well, i'm here," she remarked aloud.
""i did say once i'd never darken the door of carlisle church again, but what that boy there" -- nodding at peter -- "said last winter set me thinking, and i concluded maybe i'd better come once in a while, to be on the safe side."
those poor girls were in an agony.
everybody in the church was looking at our pew and smiling.
we all felt that we were terribly disgraced; but we could do nothing.
peg was enjoying herself hugely, beyond all doubt.
from where she sat she could see the whole church, including pulpit and gallery, and her black eyes darted over it with restless glances.
""bless me, there's sam kinnaird," she exclaimed, still aloud.
""he's the man that dunned jacob marr for four cents on the church steps one sunday.
i heard him."
i think, jacob, you owe me four cents on that cow you bought last fall.
rec "llect you could n't make the change?"
well, you know, "twould a-made a cat laugh.
the kinnairds were all mighty close, i can tell you.
that's how they got rich."
what sam kinnaird felt or thought during this speech, which everyone in the church must have heard, i know not.
gossip had it that he changed colour.
we wretched occupants of the king pew were concerned only with our own outraged feelings.
""and there's melita ross," went on peg.
""she's got the same bonnet on she had last time i was in carlisle church six years ago.
some folks has the knack of making things last.
but look at the style mrs. elmer brewer wears, will yez?
yez would n't think her mother died in the poor-house, would yez, now?"
poor mrs. brewer!
from the tip of her smart kid shoes to the dainty cluster of ostrich tips in her bonnet -- she was most immaculately and handsomely arrayed; but i venture to think she could have taken small pleasure in her fashionable attire that evening.
some of the unregenerate, including dan, were shaking with suppressed laughter, but most of the people looked as if they were afraid to smile, lest their turn should come next.
""there's old stephen grant coming in," exclaimed peg viciously, shaking her floury fist at him, "and looking as if butter would n't melt in his mouth.
he may be an elder, but he's a scoundrel just the same.
he set fire to his house to get the insurance and then blamed me for doing it.
but i got even with him for it.
oh, yes!
he knows that, and so do i!
he, he!"
peg chuckled quite fiendishly and stephen grant tried to look as if nothing had been said.
""oh, will the minister never come?"
moaned felicity in my ear.
""surely she'll have to stop then."
but the minister did not come and peg had no intention of stopping.
""there's maria dean."
she resumed.
""i have n't seen maria for years.
i never call there for she never seems to have anything to eat in the house.
she was a clayton and the claytons never could cook.
maria sorter looks as if she'd shrunk in the wash, now, do n't she?
and there's douglas nicholson.
his brother put rat poison in the family pancakes.
nice little trick that, was n't it?
they say it was by mistake.
i hope it was a mistake.
his wife is all rigged out in silk.
yez would n't think to look at her she was married in cotton -- and mighty thankful to get married in anything, it's my opinion.
there's timothy patterson.
he's the meanest man alive -- meaner'n sam kinnaird even.
timothy pays his children five cents apiece to go without their suppers, and then steals the cents out of their pockets after they've gone to bed.
it's a fact.
and when his old father died he would n't let his wife put his best shirt on him.
he said his second best was plenty good to be buried in.
that's another fact."
""i ca n't stand much more of this," wailed felicity.
""see here, miss bowen, you really ought n't to talk like that about people," expostulated peter in a low tone, goaded thereto, despite his awe of peg, by felicity's anguish.
""bless you, boy," said peg good-humouredly, "the only difference between me and other folks is that i say these things out loud and they just think them.
if i told yez all the things i know about the people in this congregation you'd be amazed.
have a peppermint?"
to our horror peg produced a handful of peppermint lozenges from the pocket of her skirt and offered us one each.
we did not dare refuse but we each held our lozenge very gingerly in our hands.
""eat them," commanded peg rather fiercely.
""mother does n't allow us to eat candy in church," faltered felicity.
""well, i've seen just as fine ladies as your ma give their children lozenges in church," said peg loftily.
she put a peppermint in her own mouth and sucked it with gusto.
we were relieved, for she did not talk during the process; but our relief was of short duration.
a bevy of three very smartly dressed young ladies, sweeping past our pew, started peg off again.
""yez need n't be so stuck up," she said, loudly and derisively.
""yez was all of yez rocked in a flour barrel.
and there's old henry frewen, still above ground.
i called my parrot after him because their noses were exactly alike.
look at caroline marr, will yez?
that's a woman who'd like pretty well to get married, and there's alexander marr.
he's a real christian, anyhow, and so's his dog.
i can always size up what a man's religion amounts to by the kind of dog he keeps.
alexander marr is a good man."
it was a relief to hear peg speak well of somebody; but that was the only exception she made.
""look at dave fraser strutting in," she went on.
""that man has thanked god so often that he is n't like other people that it's come to be true.
he is n't!
and there's susan frewen.
she's jealous of everybody.
she's even jealous of old man rogers because he's buried in the best spot in the graveyard.
seth erskine has the same look he was born with.
they say the lord made everybody but i believe the devil made all the erskines."
""she's getting worse all the time.
what will she say next?"
whispered poor felicity.
but her martyrdom was over at last.
the minister appeared in the pulpit and peg subsided into silence.
she folded her bare, floury arms over her breast and fastened her black eyes on the young preacher.
her behaviour for the next half-hour was decorum itself, save that when the minister prayed that we might all be charitable in judgment peg ejaculated "amen" several times, loudly and forcibly, somewhat to the discomfiture of the young man, to whom peg was a stranger.
he opened his eyes, glanced at our pew in a startled way, then collected himself and went on.
peg listened to the sermon, silently and motionlessly, until mr. davidson was half through.
then she suddenly got on her feet.
""this is too dull for me," she exclaimed.
""i want something more exciting."
mr. davidson stopped short and peg marched down the aisle in the midst of complete silence.
half way down the aisle she turned around and faced the minister.
""there are so many hypocrites in this church that it is n't fit for decent people to come to," she said.
""rather than be such hypocrites as most of you are it would be better for you to go miles into the woods and commit suicide."
wheeling about, she strode to the door.
then she turned for a parthian shot.
""i've felt kind of worried for god sometimes, seeing he has so much to attend to," she said, "but i see i need n't be, so long's there's plenty of ministers to tell him what to do."
with that peg shook the dust of carlisle church from her feet.
poor mr. davidson resumed his discourse.
old elder bayley, whose attention an earthquake could not have distracted from the sermon, afterwards declared that it was an excellent and edifying exhortation, but i doubt if anyone else in carlisle church tasted it much or gained much good therefrom.
certainly we of the king household did not.
we could not even remember the text when we reached home.
felicity was comfortless.
""mr. davidson would be sure to think she belonged to our family when she was in our pew," she said bitterly.
""oh, i feel as if i could never get over such a mortification!
peter, i do wish you would n't go telling people they ought to go to church.
it's all your fault that this happened."
""never mind, it will be a good story to tell sometime," remarked the story girl with relish.
chapter xxii.
the yankee storm in an august orchard six children and a grown-up were sitting around the pulpit stone.
the grown-up was miss reade, who had been up to give the girls their music lesson and had consented to stay to tea, much to the rapture of the said girls, who continued to worship her with unabated and romantic ardour.
to us, over the golden grasses, came the story girl, carrying in her hand a single large poppy, like a blood-red chalice filled with the wine of august wizardry.
she proffered it to miss reade and, as the latter took it into her singularly slender, beautiful hand, i saw a ring on her third finger.
i noticed it, because i had heard the girls say that miss reade never wore rings, not liking them.
it was not a new ring; it was handsome, but of an old-fashioned design and setting, with a glint of diamonds about a central sapphire.
later on, when miss reade had gone, i asked the story girl if she had noticed the ring.
she nodded, but seemed disinclined to say more about it.
""look here, sara," i said, "there's something about that ring -- something you know."
""i told you once there was a story growing but you would have to wait until it was fully grown," she answered.
""is miss reade going to marry anybody -- anybody we know?"
i persisted.
""curiosity killed a cat," observed the story girl coolly.
""miss reade has n't told me that she was going to marry anybody.
you will find out all that is good for you to know in due time."
when the story girl put on grown-up airs i did not like her so well, and i dropped the subject with a dignity that seemed to amuse her mightily.
she had been away for a week, visiting cousins in markdale, and she had come home with a new treasure-trove of stories, most of which she had heard from the old sailors of markdale harbour.
she had promised that morning to tell us of "the most tragic event that had ever been known on the north shore," and we now reminded her of her promise.
""some call it the "yankee storm," and others the "american gale,"" she began, sitting down by miss reade and beaming, because the latter put her arm around her waist.
""it happened nearly forty years ago, in october of 1851.
old mr. coles at the harbour told me all about it.
he was a young man then and he says he can never forget that dreadful time.
you know in those days hundreds of american fishing schooners used to come down to the gulf every summer to fish mackerel.
on one beautiful saturday night in this october of 1851, more than one hundred of these vessels could be counted from markdale capes.
by monday night more than seventy of them had been destroyed.
those which had escaped were mostly those which went into harbour saturday night, to keep sunday.
mr. coles says the rest stayed outside and fished all day sunday, same as through the week, and he says the storm was a judgment on them for doing it.
but he admits that even some of them got into harbour later on and escaped, so it's hard to know what to think.
but it is certain that on sunday night there came up a sudden and terrible storm -- the worst, mr. coles says, that has ever been known on the north shore.
it lasted for two days and scores of vessels were driven ashore and completely wrecked.
the crews of most of the vessels that went ashore on the sand beaches were saved, but those that struck on the rocks went to pieces and all hands were lost.
for weeks after the storm the north shore was strewn with the bodies of drowned men.
think of it!
many of them were unknown and unrecognizable, and they were buried in markdale graveyard.
mr. coles says the schoolmaster who was in markdale then wrote a poem on the storm and mr. coles recited the first two verses to me."
"here are the fishers" hillside graves, the church beside, the woods around, below, the hollow moaning waves where the poor fishermen were drowned.""
a sudden tempest the blue welkin tore, the seamen tossed and torn apart rolled with the seaweed to the shore while landsmen gazed with aching heart."
""mr. coles could n't remember any more of it.
but the saddest of all the stories of the yankee storm was the one about the franklin dexter.
the franklin dexter went ashore on the markdale capes and all on board perished, the captain and three of his brothers among them.
these four young men were the sons of an old man who lived in portland, maine, and when he heard what had happened he came right down to the island to see if he could find their bodies.
they had all come ashore and had been buried in markdale graveyard; but he was determined to take them up and carry them home for burial.
he said he had promised their mother to take her boys home to her and he must do it.
so they were taken up and put on board a sailing vessel at markdale harbour to be taken back to maine, while the father himself went home on a passenger steamer.
the name of the sailing vessel was the seth hall, and the captain's name was seth hall, too.
captain hall was a dreadfully profane man and used to swear blood-curdling oaths.
on the night he sailed out of markdale harbour the old sailors warned him that a storm was brewing and that it would catch him if he did not wait until it was over.
the captain had become very impatient because of several delays he had already met with, and he was in a furious temper.
he swore a wicked oath that he would sail out of markdale harbour that night and "god almighty himself should n't catch him."
he did sail out of the harbour; and the storm did catch him, and the seth hall went down with all hands, the dead and the living finding a watery grave together.
so the poor old mother up in maine never had her boys brought back to her after all.
mr. coles says it seems as if it were foreordained that they should not rest in a grave, but should lie beneath the waves until the day when the sea gives up its dead.""
"they sleep as well beneath that purple tide as others under turf,"" quoted miss reade softly.
""i am very thankful," she added, "that i am not one of those whose dear ones "go down to the sea in ships."
it seems to me that they have treble their share of this world's heartache."
""uncle stephen was a sailor and he was drowned," said felicity, "and they say it broke grandmother king's heart.
i do n't see why people ca n't be contented on dry land."
cecily's tears had been dropping on the autograph quilt square she was faithfully embroidering.
she had been diligently collecting names for it ever since the preceding autumn and had a goodly number; but kitty marr had one more and this was certainly a fly in cecily's ointment.
""besides, one i've got is n't paid for -- peg bowen's," she lamented, "and i do n't suppose it ever will be, for i'll never dare to ask her for it."
""i would n't put it on at all," said felicity.
""oh, i do n't dare not to.
she'd be sure to find out i did n't and then she'd be very angry.
i wish i could get just one more name and then i'd be contented.
but i do n't know of a single person who has n't been asked already."
""except mr. campbell," said dan.
""oh, of course nobody would ask mr. campbell.
we all know it would be of no use.
he does n't believe in missions at all -- in fact, he says he detests the very mention of missions -- and he never gives one cent to them."
""all the same, i think he ought to be asked, so that he would n't have the excuse that nobody did ask him," declared dan.
""do you really think so, dan?"
asked cecily earnestly.
""sure," said dan, solemnly.
dan liked to tease even cecily a wee bit now and then.
cecily relapsed into anxious thought, and care sat visibly on her brow for the rest of the day.
next morning she came to me and said: "bev, would you like to go for a walk with me this afternoon?"
""of course," i replied.
""any particular where?"
""i'm going to see mr. campbell and ask him for his name for my square," said cecily resolutely.
""i do n't suppose it will do any good.
he would n't give anything to the library last summer, you remember, till the story girl told him that story about his grandmother.
she wo n't go with me this time -- i do n't know why.
i ca n't tell a story and i'm frightened to death just to think of going to him.
but i believe it is my duty; and besides i would love to get as many names on my square as kitty marr has.
so if you'll go with me we'll go this afternoon.
i simply could n't go alone."
chapter xxiii.
a missionary heroine accordingly, that afternoon we bearded the lion in his den.
the road we took was a beautiful one, for we went "cross lots," and we enjoyed it, in spite of the fact that we did not expect the interview with mr. campbell to be a very pleasant one.
to be sure, he had been quite civil on the occasion of our last call upon him, but the story girl had been with us then and had beguiled him into good-humour and generosity by the magic of her voice and personality.
we had no such ally now, and mr. campbell was known to be virulently opposed to missions in any shape or form.
""i do n't know whether it would have been any better if i could have put on my good clothes," said cecily, with a rueful glance at her print dress, which, though neat and clean, was undeniably faded and rather short and tight.
""the story girl said it would, and i wanted to, but mother would n't let me.
she said it was all nonsense, and mr. campbell would never notice what i had on."
""it's my opinion that mr. campbell notices a good deal more than you'd think for," i said sagely.
""well, i wish our call was over," sighed cecily.
""i ca n't tell you how i dread it."
""now, see here, sis," i said cheerfully, "let's not think about it till we get there.
it'll only spoil our walk and do no good.
let's just forget it and enjoy ourselves."
""i'll try," agreed cecily, "but it's ever so much easier to preach than to practise."
our way lay first over a hill top, gallantly plumed with golden rod, where cloud shadows drifted over us like a gypsying crew.
carlisle, in all its ripely tinted length and breadth, lay below us, basking in the august sunshine, that spilled over the brim of the valley to the far-off markdale harbour, cupped in its harvest-golden hills.
then came a little valley overgrown with the pale purple bloom of thistles and elusively haunted with their perfume.
you say that thistles have no perfume?
go you to a brook hollow where they grow some late summer twilight at dewfall; and on the still air that rises suddenly to meet you will come a waft of faint, aromatic fragrance, wondrously sweet and evasive, the distillation of that despised thistle bloom.
beyond this the path wound through a forest of fir, where a wood wind wove its murmurous spell and a wood brook dimpled pellucidly among the shadows -- the dear, companionable, elfin shadows -- that lurked under the low growing boughs.
along the edges of that winding path grew banks of velvet green moss, starred with clusters of pigeon berries.
pigeon berries are not to be eaten.
they are woolly, tasteless things.
but they are to be looked at in their glowing scarlet.
they are the jewels with which the forest of cone-bearers loves to deck its brown breast.
cecily gathered some and pinned them on hers, but they did not become her.
i thought how witching the story girl's brown curls would have looked twined with those brilliant clusters.
perhaps cecily was thinking of it, too, for she presently said, "bev, do n't you think the story girl is changing somehow?"
""there are times -- just times -- when she seems to belong more among the grown-ups than among us," i said, reluctantly, "especially when she puts on her bridesmaid dress."
""well, she's the oldest of us, and when you come to think of it, she's fifteen, -- that's almost grown-up," sighed cecily.
then she added, with sudden vehemence, "i hate the thought of any of us growing up.
felicity says she just longs to be grown-up, but i do n't, not a bit.
i wish i could just stay a little girl for ever -- and have you and felix and all the others for playmates right along.
i do n't know how it is -- but whenever i think of being grown-up i seem to feel tired."
something about cecily's speech -- or the wistful look that had crept into her sweet brown eyes -- made me feel vaguely uncomfortable; i was glad that we were at the end of our journey, with mr. campbell's big house before us, and his dog sitting gravely at the veranda steps.
""oh, dear," said cecily, with a shiver, "i'd been hoping that dog would n't be around."
""he never bites," i assured her.
""perhaps he does n't, but he always looks as if he was going to," rejoined cecily.
the dog continued to look, and, as we edged gingerly past him and up the veranda steps, he turned his head and kept on looking.
what with mr. campbell before us and the dog behind, cecily was trembling with nervousness; but perhaps it was as well that the dour brute was there, else i verily believe she would have turned and fled shamelessly when we heard steps in the hall.
it was mr. campbell's housekeeper who came to the door, however; she ushered us pleasantly into the sitting-room where mr. campbell was reading.
he laid down his book with a slight frown and said nothing at all in response to our timid "good afternoon."
but after we had sat for a few minutes in wretched silence, wishing ourselves a thousand miles away, he said, with a chuckle, "well, is it the school library again?"
cecily had remarked as we were coming that what she dreaded most of all was introducing the subject; but mr. campbell had given her a splendid opening, and she plunged wildly in at once, rattling her explanation off nervously with trembling voice and flushed cheeks.
""no, it's our mission band autograph quilt, mr. campbell.
there are to be as many squares in it as there are members in the band.
each one has a square and is collecting names for it.
if you want to have your name on the quilt you pay five cents, and if you want to have it right in the round spot in the middle of the square you must pay ten cents.
then when we have got all the names we can we will embroider them on the squares.
the money is to go to the little girl our band is supporting in korea.
i heard that nobody had asked you, so i thought perhaps you would give me your name for my square."
mr. campbell drew his black brows together in a scowl.
""stuff and nonsense!"
he exclaimed angrily.
""i do n't believe in foreign missions -- do n't believe in them at all.
i never give a cent to them."
""five cents is n't a very large sum," said cecily earnestly.
mr. campbell's scowl disappeared and he laughed.
""it would n't break me," he admitted, "but it's the principle of the thing.
and as for that mission band of yours, if it was n't for the fun you get out of it, catch one of you belonging.
you do n't really care a rap more for the heathen than i do."
""oh, we do," protested cecily.
""we do think of all the poor little children in korea, and we like to think we are helping them, if it's ever so little.
we are in earnest, mr. campbell -- indeed we are."
""do n't believe it -- do n't believe a word of it," said mr. campbell impolitely.
""you'll do things that are nice and interesting.
you'll get up concerts, and chase people about for autographs and give money your parents give you and that does n't cost you either time or labour.
but you would n't do anything you disliked for the heathen children -- you would n't make any real sacrifice for them -- catch you!"
""indeed we would," cried cecily, forgetting her timidity in her zeal.
""i just wish i had a chance to prove it to you."
""you do, eh?
come, now, i'll take you at your word.
i'll test you.
tomorrow is communion sunday and the church will be full of folks and they'll all have their best clothes on.
if you go to church tomorrow in the very costume you have on at present, without telling anyone why you do so, until it is all over, i'll give you -- why, i vow i'll give you five dollars for that quilt of yours."
poor cecily!
to go to church in a faded print dress, with a shabby little old sun-hat and worn shoes!
it was very cruel of mr. campbell.
""i -- i do n't think mother would let me," she faltered.
her tormentor smiled grimly.
""it's not hard to find some excuse," he said sarcastically.
cecily crimsoned and sat up facing mr. campbell spunkily.
""it's not an excuse," she said.
""if mother will let me go to church like this i'll go.
but i'll have to tell her why, mr. campbell, because i'm certain she'd never let me if i did n't."
""oh, you can tell all your own family," said mr. campbell, "but remember, none of them must tell it outside until sunday is over.
if they do, i'll be sure to find it out and then our bargain is off.
if i see you in church tomorrow, dressed as you are now, i'll give you my name and five dollars.
but i wo n't see you.
you'll shrink when you've had time to think it over."
""i sha'n' t," said cecily resolutely.
""well, we'll see.
and now come out to the barn with me.
i've got the prettiest little drove of calves out there you ever saw.
i want you to see them."
mr. campbell took us all over his barns and was very affable.
he had beautiful horses, cows and sheep, and i enjoyed seeing them.
i do n't think cecily did, however.
she was very quiet and even mr. campbell's handsome new span of dappled grays failed to arouse any enthusiasm in her.
she was already in bitter anticipation living over the martyrdom of the morrow.
on the way home she asked me seriously if i thought mr. campbell would go to heaven when he died.
""of course he will," i said.
""is n't he a member of the church?"
""oh, yes, but i ca n't imagine him fitting into heaven.
you know he is n't really fond of anything but live stock."
""he's fond of teasing people, i guess," i responded.
""are you really going to church to-morrow in that dress, sis?"
""if mother'll let me i'll have to," said poor cecily.
""i wo n't let mr. campbell triumph over me.
and i do want to have as many names as kitty has.
and i do want to help the poor little korean children.
but it will be simply dreadful.
i do n't know whether i hope mother will or not."
i did not believe she would, but aunt janet sometimes could be depended on for the unexpected.
she laughed and told cecily she could please herself.
felicity was in a rage over it, and declared she would n't go to church if cecily went in such a rig.
dan sarcastically inquired if all she went to church for was to show off her fine clothes and look at other people's; then they quarrelled and did n't speak to each other for two days, much to cecily's distress.
i suspect poor sis wished devoutly that it might rain the next day; but it was gloriously fine.
we were all waiting in the orchard for the story girl who had not begun to dress for church until cecily and felicity were ready.
felicity was her prettiest in flower-trimmed hat, crisp muslin, floating ribbons and trim black slippers.
poor cecily stood beside her mute and pale, in her faded school garb and heavy copper-toed boots.
but her face, if pale, was very determined.
cecily, having put her hand to the plough, was not of those who turn back.
""you do look just awful," said felicity.
""i do n't care -- i'm going to sit in uncle james" pew.
i wo n't sit with you.
there will be so many strangers there, and all the markdale people, and what will they think of you?
some of them will never know the reason, either."
""i wish the story girl would hurry," was all poor cecily said.
""we're going to be late.
it would n't have been quite so hard if i could have got there before anyone and slipped quietly into our pew."
""here she comes at last," said dan.
""why -- what's she got on?"
the story girl joined us with a quizzical smile on her face.
dan whistled.
cecily's pale cheeks flushed with understanding and gratitude.
the story girl wore her school print dress and hat also, and was gloveless and heavy shod.
""you're not going to have to go through this all alone, cecily," she said.
""oh, it wo n't be half so hard now," said cecily, with a long breath of relief.
i fancy it was hard enough even then.
the story girl did not care a whit, but cecily rather squirmed under the curious glances that were cast at her.
she afterwards told me that she really did not think she could have endured it if she had been alone.
mr. campbell met us under the elms in the churchyard, with a twinkle in his eye.
""well, you did it, miss," he said to cecily, "but you should have been alone.
that was what i meant.
i suppose you think you've cheated me nicely."
""no, she does n't," spoke up the story girl undauntedly.
""she was all dressed and ready to come before she knew i was going to dress the same way.
so she kept her bargain faithfully, mr. campbell, and i think you were cruel to make her do it."
""you do, eh?
well, well, i hope you'll forgive me.
i did n't think she'd do it -- i was sure feminine vanity would win the day over missionary zeal.
it seems it did n't -- though how much was pure missionary zeal and how much just plain king spunk i'm doubtful.
i'll keep my promise, miss..
you shall have your five dollars, and mind you put my name in the round space.
no five-cent corners for me."
chapter xxiv.
a tantalizing revelation "i shall have something to tell you in the orchard this evening," said the story girl at breakfast one morning.
her eyes were very bright and excited.
she looked as if she had not slept a great deal.
she had spent the previous evening with miss reade and had not returned until the rest of us were in bed.
miss reade had finished giving music lessons and was going home in a few days.
cecily and felicity were in despair over this and mourned as those without comfort.
but the story girl, who had been even more devoted to miss reade than either of them, had not, as i noticed, expressed any regret and seemed to be very cheerful over the whole matter.
""why ca n't you tell it now?"
asked felicity.
""because the evening is the nicest time to tell things in.
i only mentioned it now so that you would have something interesting to look forward to all day."
""is it about miss reade?"
asked cecily.
""never mind."
""i'll bet she's going to be married," i exclaimed, remembering the ring.
""is she?"
cried felicity and cecily together.
the story girl threw an annoyed glance at me.
she did not like to have her dramatic announcements forestalled.
""i do n't say that it is about miss reade or that it is n't.
you must just wait till the evening."
""i wonder what it is," speculated cecily, as the story girl left the room.
""i do n't believe it's much of anything," said felicity, beginning to clear away the breakfast dishes.
""the story girl always likes to make so much out of so little.
anyhow, i do n't believe miss reade is going to be married.
she has n't any beaus around here and mrs. armstrong says she's sure she does n't correspond with anybody.
besides, if she was she would n't be likely to tell the story girl."
""oh, she might.
they're such friends, you know," said cecily.
""miss reade is no better friends with her than she is with me and you," retorted felicity.
""no, but sometimes it seems to me that she's a different kind of friend with the story girl than she is with me and you," reflected cecily.
""i ca n't just explain what i mean."
""no wonder.
such nonsense," sniffed felicity.
""it's only some girl's secret, anyway," said dan, loftily.
""i do n't feel much interest in it."
but he was on hand with the rest of us that evening, interest or no interest, in uncle stephen's walk, where the ripening apples were beginning to glow like jewels among the boughs.
""now, are you going to tell us your news?"
asked felicity impatiently.
""miss reade is going to be married," said the story girl.
""she told me so last night.
she is going to be married in a fortnight's time."
""who to?"
exclaimed the girls.
""to" -- the story girl threw a defiant glance at me as if to say, "you ca n't spoil the surprise of this, anyway," -- "to -- the awkward man."
for a few moments amazement literally held us dumb.
""you're not in earnest, sara stanley?"
gasped felicity at last.
""indeed i am.
i thought you'd be astonished.
but i was n't.
i've suspected it all summer, from little things i've noticed.
do n't you remember that evening last spring when i went a piece with miss reade and told you when i came back that a story was growing?
i guessed it from the way the awkward man looked at her when i stopped to speak to him over his garden fence."
""but -- the awkward man!"
said felicity helplessly.
""it does n't seem possible.
did miss reade tell you herself?"
""yes."
""i suppose it must be true then.
but how did it ever come about?
he's so shy and awkward.
how did he ever manage to get up enough spunk to ask her to marry him?"
""maybe she asked him," suggested dan.
the story girl looked as if she might tell if she would.
""i believe that was the way of it," i said, to draw her on.
""not exactly," she said reluctantly.
""i know all about it but i ca n't tell you.
i guessed part from things i've seen -- and miss reade told me a good deal -- and the awkward man himself told me his side of it as we came home last night.
i met him just as i left mr. armstrong's and we were together as far as his house.
it was dark and he just talked on as if he were talking to himself -- i think he forgot i was there at all, once he got started.
he has never been shy or awkward with me, but he never talked as he did last night."
""you might tell us what he said," urged cecily.
""we'd never tell."
the story girl shook her head.
""no, i ca n't.
you would n't understand.
besides, i could n't tell it just right.
it's one of the things that are hardest to tell.
i'd spoil it if i told it -- now.
perhaps some day i'll be able to tell it properly.
it's very beautiful -- but it might sound very ridiculous if it was n't told just exactly the right way."
""i do n't know what you mean, and i do n't believe you know yourself," said felicity pettishly.
""all that i can make out is that miss reade is going to marry jasper dale, and i do n't like the idea one bit.
she is so beautiful and sweet.
i thought she'd marry some dashing young man.
jasper dale must be nearly twenty years older than her -- and he's so queer and shy -- and such a hermit."
""miss reade is perfectly happy," said the story girl.
""she thinks the awkward man is lovely -- and so he is.
you do n't know him, but i do."
""well, you need n't put on such airs about it," sniffed felicity.
""i am not putting on any airs.
but it's true.
miss reade and i are the only people in carlisle who really know the awkward man.
nobody else ever got behind his shyness to find out just what sort of a man he is."
""when are they to be married?"
asked felicity.
""in a fortnight's time.
and then they are coming right back to live at golden milestone.
wo n't it be lovely to have miss reade always so near us?"
""i wonder what she'll think about the mystery of golden milestone," remarked felicity.
golden milestone was the beautiful name the awkward man had given his home; and there was a mystery about it, as readers of the first volume of these chronicles will recall.
""she knows all about the mystery and thinks it perfectly lovely -- and so do i," said the story girl.
""do you know the secret of the locked room?"
cried cecily.
""yes, the awkward man told me all about it last night.
i told you i'd find out the mystery some time."
""and what is it?"
""i ca n't tell you that either."
""i think you're hateful and mean," exclaimed felicity.
""it has n't anything to do with miss reade, so i think you might tell us."
""it has something to do with miss reade.
it's all about her."
""well, i do n't see how that can be when the awkward man never saw or heard of miss reade until she came to carlisle in the spring," said felicity incredulously, "and he's had that locked room for years."
""i ca n't explain it to you -- but it's just as i've said," responded the story girl.
""well, it's a very queer thing," retorted felicity.
""the name in the books in the room was alice -- and miss reade's name is alice," marvelled cecily.
""did he know her before she came here?"
""mrs. griggs says that room has been locked for ten years.
ten years ago miss reade was just a little girl of ten.
she could n't be the alice of the books," argued felicity.
""i wonder if she'll wear the blue silk dress," said sara ray.
""and what will she do about the picture, if it is n't hers?"
added cecily.
""the picture could n't be hers, or mrs. griggs would have known her for the same when she came to carlisle," said felix.
""i'm going to stop wondering about it," exclaimed felicity crossly, aggravated by the amused smile with which the story girl was listening to the various speculations.
""i think sara is just as mean as mean when she wo n't tell us."
""i ca n't," repeated the story girl patiently.
""you said one time you had an idea who "alice" was," i said.
""was your idea anything like the truth?"
""yes, i guessed pretty nearly right."
""do you suppose they'll keep the room locked after they are married?"
asked cecily.
""oh, no.
i can tell you that much.
it is to be miss reade's own particular sitting room."
""why, then, perhaps we'll see it some time ourselves, when we go to see miss reade," cried cecily.
""i'd be frightened to go into it," confessed sara ray.
""i hate things with mysteries.
they always make me nervous."
""i love them.
they're so exciting," said the story girl.
""just think, this will be the second wedding of people we know," reflected cecily.
""is n't that interesting?"
""i only hope the next thing wo n't be a funeral," remarked sara ray gloomily.
""there were three lighted lamps on our kitchen table last night, and judy pineau says that's a sure sign of a funeral."
""well, there are funerals going on all the time," said dan.
""but it means the funeral of somebody you know.
i do n't believe in it -- much -- but judy says she's seen it come true time and again.
i hope if it does it wo n't be anybody we know very well.
but i hope it'll be somebody i know a little, because then i might get to the funeral.
i'd just love to go to a funeral."
""that's a dreadful thing to say," commented felicity in a shocked tone.
sara ray looked bewildered.
""i do n't see what is dreadful in it," she protested.
""people do n't go to funerals for the fun of it," said felicity severely.
""and you just as good as said you hoped somebody you knew would die so you'd get to the funeral."
""no, no, i did n't.
i did n't mean that at all, felicity.
i do n't want anybody to die; but what i meant was, if anybody i knew had to die there might be a chance to go to the funeral.
i've never been to a single funeral yet, and it must be so interesting."
""well, do n't mix up talk about funerals with talk about weddings," said felicity.
""it is n't lucky.
i think miss reade is simply throwing herself away, but i hope she'll be happy.
and i hope the awkward man will manage to get married without making some awful blunder, but it's more than i expect."
""the ceremony is to be very private," said the story girl.
""i'd like to see them the day they appear out in church," chuckled dan.
""how'll he ever manage to bring her in and show her into the pew?
i'll bet he'll go in first -- or tramp on her dress -- or fall over his feet."
""maybe he wo n't go to church at all the first sunday and she'll have to go alone," said peter.
""that happened in markdale.
a man was too bashful to go to church the first time after getting married, and his wife went alone till he got used to the idea."
""they may do things like that in markdale but that is not the way people behave in carlisle," said felicity loftily.
seeing the story girl slipping away with a disapproving face i joined her.
""what is the matter, sara?"
i asked.
""i hate to hear them talking like that about miss reade and mr. dale," she answered vehemently.
""it's really all so beautiful -- but they make it seem silly and absurd, somehow."
""you might tell me all about it, sara," i insinuated.
""i would n't tell -- and i'd understand."
""yes, i think you would," she said thoughtfully.
""but i ca n't tell it even to you because i ca n't tell it well enough yet.
i've a feeling that there's only one way to tell it -- and i do n't know the way yet.
some day i'll know it -- and then i'll tell you, bev."
long, long after she kept her word.
forty years later i wrote to her, across the leagues of land and sea that divided us, and told her that jasper dale was dead; and i reminded her of her old promise and asked its fulfilment.
in reply she sent me the written love story of jasper dale and alice reade.
now, when alice sleeps under the whispering elms of the old carlisle churchyard, beside the husband of her youth, that story may be given, in all its old-time sweetness, to the world.
chapter xxv.
the love story of the awkward man -lrb- written by the story girl -rrb- jasper dale lived alone in the old homestead which he had named golden milestone.
in carlisle this giving one's farm a name was looked upon as a piece of affectation; but if a place must be named why not give it a sensible name with some meaning to it?
why golden milestone, when pinewood or hillslope or, if you wanted to be very fanciful, ivy lodge, might be had for the taking?
he had lived alone at golden milestone since his mother's death; he had been twenty then and he was close upon forty now, though he did not look it.
but neither could it be said that he looked young; he had never at any time looked young with common youth; there had always been something in his appearance that stamped him as different from the ordinary run of men, and, apart from his shyness, built up an intangible, invisible barrier between him and his kind.
he had lived all his life in carlisle; and all the carlisle people knew of or about him -- although they thought they knew everything -- was that he was painfully, abnormally shy.
he never went anywhere except to church; he never took part in carlisle's simple social life; even with most men he was distant and reserved; as for women, he never spoke to or looked at them; if one spoke to him, even if she were a matronly old mother in israel, he was at once in an agony of painful blushes.
he had no friends in the sense of companions; to all outward appearance his life was solitary and devoid of any human interest.
he had no housekeeper; but his old house, furnished as it had been in his mother's lifetime, was cleanly and daintily kept.
the quaint rooms were as free from dust and disorder as a woman could have had them.
this was known, because jasper dale occasionally had his hired man's wife, mrs. griggs, in to scrub for him.
on the morning she was expected he betook himself to woods and fields, returning only at night-fall.
during his absence mrs. griggs was frankly wont to explore the house from cellar to attic, and her report of its condition was always the same -- "neat as wax."
to be sure, there was one room that was always locked against her, the west gable, looking out on the garden and the hill of pines beyond.
but mrs. griggs knew that in the lifetime of jasper dale's mother it had been unfurnished.
she supposed it still remained so, and felt no especial curiosity concerning it, though she always tried the door.
jasper dale had a good farm, well cultivated; he had a large garden where he worked most of his spare time in summer; it was supposed that he read a great deal, since the postmistress declared that he was always getting books and magazines by mail.
he seemed well contented with his existence and people let him alone, since that was the greatest kindness they could do him.
it was unsupposable that he would ever marry; nobody ever had supposed it.
""jasper dale never so much as thought about a woman," carlisle oracles declared.
oracles, however, are not always to be trusted.
one day mrs. griggs went away from the dale place with a very curious story, which she diligently spread far and wide.
it made a good deal of talk, but people, although they listened eagerly, and wondered and questioned, were rather incredulous about it.
they thought mrs. griggs must be drawing considerably upon her imagination; there were not lacking those who declared that she had invented the whole account, since her reputation for strict veracity was not wholly unquestioned.
mrs. griggs's story was as follows: -- one day she found the door of the west gable unlocked.
she went in, expecting to see bare walls and a collection of odds and ends.
instead she found herself in a finely furnished room.
delicate lace curtains hung before the small, square, broad-silled windows.
the walls were adorned with pictures in much finer taste than mrs. griggs could appreciate.
there was a bookcase between the windows filled with choicely bound books.
beside it stood a little table with a very dainty work-basket on it.
by the basket mrs. griggs saw a pair of tiny scissors and a silver thimble.
a wicker rocker, comfortable with silk cushions, was near it.
above the bookcase a woman's picture hung -- a water-colour, if mrs. griggs had but known it -- representing a pale, very sweet face, with large, dark eyes and a wistful expression under loose masses of black, lustrous hair.
just beneath the picture, on the top shelf of the bookcase, was a vaseful of flowers.
another vaseful stood on the table beside the basket.
all this was astonishing enough.
but what puzzled mrs. griggs completely was the fact that a woman's dress was hanging over a chair before the mirror -- a pale blue, silken affair.
and on the floor beside it were two little blue satin slippers!
good mrs. griggs did not leave the room until she had thoroughly explored it, even to shaking out the blue dress and discovering it to be a tea-gown -- wrapper, she called it.
but she found nothing to throw any light on the mystery.
the fact that the simple name "alice" was written on the fly-leaves of all the books only deepened it, for it was a name unknown in the dale family.
in this puzzled state she was obliged to depart, nor did she ever find the door unlocked again; and, discovering that people thought she was romancing when she talked about the mysterious west gable at golden milestone, she indignantly held her peace concerning the whole affair.
but mrs. griggs had told no more than the simple truth.
jasper dale, under all his shyness and aloofness, possessed a nature full of delicate romance and poesy, which, denied expression in the common ways of life, bloomed out in the realm of fancy and imagination.
left alone, just when the boy's nature was deepening into the man's, he turned to this ideal kingdom for all he believed the real world could never give him.
love -- a strange, almost mystical love -- played its part here for him.
he shadowed forth to himself the vision of a woman, loving and beloved; he cherished it until it became almost as real to him as his own personality and he gave this dream woman the name he liked best -- alice.
in fancy he walked and talked with her, spoke words of love to her, and heard words of love in return.
when he came from work at the close of day she met him at his threshold in the twilight -- a strange, fair, starry shape, as elusive and spiritual as a blossom reflected in a pool by moonlight -- with welcome on her lips and in her eyes.
one day, when he was in charlottetown on business, he had been struck by a picture in the window of a store.
it was strangely like the woman of his dream love.
he went in, awkward and embarrassed, and bought it.
when he took it home he did not know where to put it.
it was out of place among the dim old engravings of bewigged portraits and conventional landscapes on the walls of golden milestone.
as he pondered the matter in his garden that evening he had an inspiration.
the sunset, flaming on the windows of the west gable, kindled them into burning rose.
amid the splendour he fancied alice's fair face peeping archly down at him from the room.
the inspiration came then.
it should be her room; he would fit it up for her; and her picture should hang there.
he was all summer carrying out his plan.
nobody must know or suspect, so he must go slowly and secretly.
one by one the furnishings were purchased and brought home under cover of darkness.
he arranged them with his own hands.
he bought the books he thought she would like best and wrote her name in them; he got the little feminine knick-knacks of basket and thimble.
finally he saw in a store a pale blue tea-gown and the satin slippers.
he had always fancied her as dressed in blue.
he bought them and took them home to her room.
thereafter it was sacred to her; he always knocked on its door before he entered; he kept it sweet with fresh flowers; he sat there in the purple summer evenings and talked aloud to her or read his favourite books to her.
in his fancy she sat opposite to him in her rocker, clad in the trailing blue gown, with her head leaning on one slender hand, as white as a twilight star.
but carlisle people knew nothing of this -- would have thought him tinged with mild lunacy if they had known.
to them, he was just the shy, simple farmer he appeared.
they never knew or guessed at the real jasper dale.
one spring alice reade came to teach music in carlisle.
her pupils worshipped her, but the grown people thought she was rather too distant and reserved.
they had been used to merry, jolly girls who joined eagerly in the social life of the place.
alice reade held herself aloof from it -- not disdainfully, but as one to whom these things were of small importance.
she was very fond of books and solitary rambles; she was not at all shy but she was as sensitive as a flower; and after a time carlisle people were content to let her live her own life and no longer resented her unlikeness to themselves.
she boarded with the armstrongs, who lived beyond golden milestone around the hill of pines.
until the snow disappeared she went out to the main road by the long armstrong lane; but when spring came she was wont to take a shorter way, down the pine hill, across the brook, past jasper dale's garden, and out through his lane.
and one day, as she went by, jasper dale was working in his garden.
he was on his knees in a corner, setting out a bunch of roots -- an unsightly little tangle of rainbow possibilities.
it was a still spring morning; the world was green with young leaves; a little wind blew down from the pines and lost itself willingly among the budding delights of the garden.
the grass opened eyes of blue violets.
the sky was high and cloudless, turquoise-blue, shading off into milkiness on the far horizons.
birds were singing along the brook valley.
rollicking robins were whistling joyously in the pines.
jasper dale's heart was filled to over-flowing with a realization of all the virgin loveliness around him; the feeling in his soul had the sacredness of a prayer.
at this moment he looked up and saw alice reade.
she was standing outside the garden fence, in the shadow of a great pine tree, looking not at him, for she was unaware of his presence, but at the virginal bloom of the plum trees in a far corner, with all her delight in it outblossoming freely in her face.
for a moment jasper dale believed that his dream love had taken visible form before him.
she was like -- so like; not in feature, perhaps, but in grace and colouring -- the grace of a slender, lissome form and the colouring of cloudy hair and wistful, dark gray eyes, and curving red mouth; and more than all, she was like her in expression -- in the subtle revelation of personality exhaling from her like perfume from a flower.
it was as if his own had come to him at last and his whole soul suddenly leaped out to meet and welcome her.
then her eyes fell upon him and the spell was broken.
jasper remained kneeling mutely there, shy man once more, crimson with blushes, a strange, almost pitiful creature in his abject confusion.
a little smile flickered about the delicate corners of her mouth, but she turned and walked swiftly away down the lane.
jasper looked after her with a new, painful sense of loss and loveliness.
it had been agony to feel her conscious eyes upon him, but he realized now that there had been a strange sweetness in it, too.
it was still greater pain to watch her going from him.
he thought she must be the new music teacher but he did not even know her name.
she had been dressed in blue, too -- a pale, dainty blue; but that was of course; he had known she must wear it; and he was sure her name must be alice.
when, later on, he discovered that it was, he felt no surprise.
he carried some mayflowers up to the west gable and put them under the picture.
but the charm had gone out of the tribute; and looking at the picture, he thought how scant was the justice it did her.
her face was so much sweeter, her eyes so much softer, her hair so much more lustrous.
the soul of his love had gone from the room and from the picture and from his dreams.
when he tried to think of the alice he loved he saw, not the shadowy spirit occupant of the west gable, but the young girl who had stood under the pine, beautiful with the beauty of moonlight, of starshine on still water, of white, wind-swayed flowers growing in silent, shadowy places.
he did not then realize what this meant: had he realized it he would have suffered bitterly; as it was he felt only a vague discomfort -- a curious sense of loss and gain commingled.
he saw her again that afternoon on her way home.
she did not pause by the garden but walked swiftly past.
thereafter, every day for a week he watched unseen to see her pass his home.
once a little child was with her, clinging to her hand.
no child had ever before had any part in the shy man's dream life.
but that night in the twilight the vision of the rocking-chair was a girl in a blue print dress, with a little, golden-haired shape at her knee -- a shape that lisped and prattled and called her "mother;" and both of them were his.
it was the next day that he failed for the first time to put flowers in the west gable.
instead, he cut a loose handful of daffodils and, looking furtively about him as if committing a crime, he laid them across the footpath under the pine.
she must pass that way; her feet would crush them if she failed to see them.
then he slipped back into his garden, half exultant, half repentant.
from a safe retreat he saw her pass by and stoop to lift his flowers.
thereafter he put some in the same place every day.
when alice reade saw the flowers she knew at once who had put them there, and divined that they were for her.
she lifted them tenderly in much surprise and pleasure.
she had heard all about jasper dale and his shyness; but before she had heard about him she had seen him in church and liked him.
she thought his face and his dark blue eyes beautiful; she even liked the long brown hair that carlisle people laughed at.
that he was quite different from other people she had understood at once, but she thought the difference in his favour.
perhaps her sensitive nature divined and responded to the beauty in his.
at least, in her eyes jasper dale was never a ridiculous figure.
when she heard the story of the west gable, which most people disbelieved, she believed it, although she did not understand it.
it invested the shy man with interest and romance.
she felt that she would have liked, out of no impertinent curiosity, to solve the mystery; she believed that it contained the key to his character.
thereafter, every day she found flowers under the pine tree; she wished to see jasper to thank him, unaware that he watched her daily from the screen of shrubbery in his garden; but it was some time before she found the opportunity.
one evening she passed when he, not expecting her, was leaning against his garden fence with a book in his hand.
she stopped under the pine.
""mr. dale," she said softly, "i want to thank you for your flowers."
jasper, startled, wished that he might sink into the ground.
his anguish of embarrassment made her smile a little.
he could not speak, so she went on gently.
""it has been so good of you.
they have given me so much pleasure -- i wish you could know how much."
""it was nothing -- nothing," stammered jasper.
his book had fallen on the ground at her feet, and she picked it up and held it out to him.
""so you like ruskin," she said.
""i do, too.
but i have n't read this."
""if you -- would care -- to read it -- you may have it," jasper contrived to say.
she carried the book away with her.
he did not again hide when she passed, and when she brought the book back they talked a little about it over the fence.
he lent her others, and got some from her in return; they fell into the habit of discussing them.
jasper did not find it hard to talk to her now; it seemed as if he were talking to his dream alice, and it came strangely natural to him.
he did not talk volubly, but alice thought what he did say was worth while.
his words lingered in her memory and made music.
she always found his flowers under the pine, and she always wore some of them, but she did not know if he noticed this or not.
one evening jasper walked shyly with her from his gate up the pine hill.
after that he always walked that far with her.
she would have missed him much if he had failed to do so; yet it did not occur to her that she was learning to love him.
she would have laughed with girlish scorn at the idea.
she liked him very much; she thought his nature beautiful in its simplicity and purity; in spite of his shyness she felt more delightfully at home in his society than in that of any other person she had ever met.
he was one of those rare souls whose friendship is at once a pleasure and a benediction, showering light from their own crystal clearness into all the dark corners in the souls of others, until, for the time being at least, they reflected his own nobility.
but she never thought of love.
like other girls she had her dreams of a possible prince charming, young and handsome and debonair.
it never occurred to her that he might be found in the shy, dreamy recluse of golden milestone.
in august came a day of gold and blue.
alice reade, coming through the trees, with the wind blowing her little dark love-locks tricksily about under her wide blue hat, found a fragrant heap of mignonette under the pine.
she lifted it and buried her face in it, drinking in the wholesome, modest perfume.
she had hoped jasper would be in his garden, since she wished to ask him for a book she greatly desired to read.
but she saw him sitting on the rustic seat at the further side.
his back was towards her, and he was partially screened by a copse of lilacs.
alice, blushing slightly, unlatched the garden gate, and went down the path.
she had never been in the garden before, and she found her heart beating in a strange fashion.
he did not hear her footsteps, and she was close behind him when she heard his voice, and realized that he was talking to himself, in a low, dreamy tone.
as the meaning of his words dawned on her consciousness she started and grew crimson.
she could not move or speak; as one in a dream she stood and listened to the shy man's reverie, guiltless of any thought of eavesdropping.
""how much i love you, alice," jasper dale was saying, unafraid, with no shyness in voice or manner.
""i wonder what you would say if you knew.
you would laugh at me -- sweet as you are, you would laugh in mockery.
i can never tell you.
i can only dream of telling you.
in my dream you are standing here by me, dear.
i can see you very plainly, my sweet lady, so tall and gracious, with your dark hair and your maiden eyes.
i can dream that i tell you my love; that -- maddest, sweetest dream of all -- that you love me in return.
everything is possible in dreams, you know, dear.
my dreams are all i have, so i go far in them, even to dreaming that you are my wife.
i dream how i shall fix up my dull old house for you.
one room will need nothing more -- it is your room, dear, and has been ready for you a long time -- long before that day i saw you under the pine.
your books and your chair and your picture are there, dear -- only the picture is not half lovely enough.
but the other rooms of the house must be made to bloom out freshly for you.
what a delight it is thus to dream of what i would do for you!
then i would bring you home, dear, and lead you through my garden and into my house as its mistress.
i would see you standing beside me in the old mirror at the end of the hall -- a bride, in your pale blue dress, with a blush on your face.
i would lead you through all the rooms made ready for your coming, and then to your own.
i would see you sitting in your own chair and all my dreams would find rich fulfilment in that royal moment.
oh, alice, we would have a beautiful life together!
it's sweet to make believe about it.
you will sing to me in the twilight, and we will gather early flowers together in the spring days.
when i come home from work, tired, you will put your arms about me and lay your head on my shoulder.
i will stroke it -- so -- that bonny, glossy head of yours.
alice, my alice -- all mine in my dream -- never to be mine in real life -- how i love you!"
the alice behind him could bear no more.
she gave a little choking cry that betrayed her presence.
jasper dale sprang up and gazed upon her.
he saw her standing there, amid the languorous shadows of august, pale with feeling, wide-eyed, trembling.
for a moment shyness wrung him.
then every trace of it was banished by a sudden, strange, fierce anger that swept over him.
he felt outraged and hurt to the death; he felt as if he had been cheated out of something incalculably precious -- as if sacrilege had been done to his most holy sanctuary of emotion.
white, tense with his anger, he looked at her and spoke, his lips as pale as if his fiery words scathed them.
""how dare you?
you have spied on me -- you have crept in and listened!
how dare you?
do you know what you have done, girl?
you have destroyed all that made life worth while to me.
my dream is dead.
it could not live when it was betrayed.
and it was all i had.
oh, laugh at me -- mock me!
i know that i am ridiculous!
what of it?
it never could have hurt you!
why must you creep in like this to hear me and put me to shame?
oh, i love you -- i will say it, laugh as you will.
is it such a strange thing that i should have a heart like other men?
this will make sport for you!
i, who love you better than my life, better than any other man in the world can love you, will be a jest to you all your life.
i love you -- and yet i think i could hate you -- you have destroyed my dream -- you have done me deadly wrong."
""jasper!
jasper!"
cried alice, finding her voice.
his anger hurt her with a pain she could not endure.
it was unbearable that jasper should be angry with her.
in that moment she realized that she loved him -- that the words he had spoken when unconscious of her presence were the sweetest she had ever heard, or ever could hear.
nothing mattered at all, save that he loved her and was angry with her.
""do n't say such dreadful things to me," she stammered, "i did not mean to listen.
i could not help it.
i shall never laugh at you.
oh, jasper" -- she looked bravely at him and the fine soul of her shone through the flesh like an illuminating lamp -- "i am glad that you love me!
and i am glad i chanced to overhear you, since you would never have had the courage to tell me otherwise.
glad -- glad!
do you understand, jasper?"
jasper looked at her with the eyes of one who, looking through pain, sees rapture beyond.
""is it possible?"
he said, wonderingly.
""alice -- i am so much older than you -- and they call me the awkward man -- they say i am unlike other people" -- "you are unlike other people," she said softly, "and that is why i love you.
i know now that i must have loved you ever since i saw you."
""i loved you long before i saw you," said jasper.
he came close to her and drew her into his arms, tenderly and reverently, all his shyness and awkwardness swallowed up in the grace of his great happiness.
in the old garden he kissed her lips and alice entered into her own.
chapter xxvi.
uncle blair comes home it happened that the story girl and i both got up very early on the morning of the awkward man's wedding day.
uncle alec was going to charlottetown that day, and i, awakened at daybreak by the sounds in the kitchen beneath us, remembered that i had forgotten to ask him to bring me a certain school-book i wanted.
so i hurriedly dressed and hastened down to tell him before he went.
i was joined on the stairs by the story girl, who said she had wakened and, not feeling like going to sleep again, thought she might as well get up.
""i had such a funny dream last night," she said.
""i dreamed that i heard a voice calling me from away down in uncle stephen's walk -- "sara, sara, sara," it kept calling.
i did n't know whose it was, and yet it seemed like a voice i knew.
i wakened up while it was calling, and it seemed so real i could hardly believe it was a dream.
it was bright moonlight, and i felt just like getting up and going out to the orchard.
but i knew that would be silly and of course i did n't go.
but i kept on wanting to and i could n't sleep any more.
was n't it queer?"
when uncle alec had gone i proposed a saunter to the farther end of the orchard, where i had left a book the preceding evening.
a young mom was walking rosily on the hills as we passed down uncle stephen's walk, with paddy trotting before us.
high overhead was the spirit-like blue of paling skies; the east was a great arc of crystal, smitten through with auroral crimsonings; just above it was one milk-white star of morning, like a pearl on a silver sea.
a light wind of dawn was weaving an orient spell.
""it's lovely to be up as early as this, is n't it?"
said the story girl.
""the world seems so different just at sunrise, does n't it?
it makes me feel just like getting up to see the sun rise every morning of my life after this.
but i know i wo n't.
i'll likely sleep later than ever tomorrow morning.
but i wish i could."
""the awkward man and miss reade are going to have a lovely day for their wedding," i said.
""yes, and i'm so glad.
beautiful alice deserves everything good.
why, bev -- why, bev!
who is that in the hammock?"
i looked.
the hammock was swung under the two end trees of the walk.
in it a man was lying, asleep, his head pillowed on his overcoat.
he was sleeping easily, lightly, and wholesomely.
he had a pointed brown beard and thick wavy brown hair.
his cheeks were a dusky red and the lashes of his closed eyes were as long and dark and silken as a girl's.
he wore a light gray suit, and on the slender white hand that hung down over the hammock's edge was a spark of diamond fire.
it seemed to me that i knew his face, although assuredly i had never seen him before.
while i groped among vague speculations the story girl gave a queer, choked little cry.
the next moment she had sprung over the intervening space, dropped on her knees by the hammock, and flung her arms about the man's neck.
""father!
father!"
she cried, while i stood, rooted to the ground in my amazement.
the sleeper stirred and opened two large, exceedingly brilliant hazel eyes.
for a moment he gazed rather blankly at the brown-curled young lady who was embracing him.
then a most delightful smile broke over his face; he sprang up and caught her to his heart.
""sara -- sara -- my little sara!
to think did n't know you at first glance!
but you are almost a woman.
and when i saw you last you were just a little girl of eight.
my own little sara!"
""father -- father -- sometimes i've wondered if you were ever coming back to me," i heard the story girl say, as i turned and scuttled up the walk, realizing that i was not wanted there just then and would be little missed.
various emotions and speculations possessed my mind in my retreat; but chiefly did i feel a sense of triumph in being the bearer of exciting news.
""aunt janet, uncle blair is here," i announced breathlessly at the kitchen door.
aunt janet, who was kneading her bread, turned round and lifted floury hands.
felicity and cecily, who were just entering the kitchen, rosy from slumber, stopped still and stared at me.
""uncle who?"
exclaimed aunt janet.
""uncle blair -- the story girl's father, you know.
he's here."
""where?"
""down in the orchard.
he was asleep in the hammock.
we found him there."
""dear me!"
said aunt janet, sitting down helplessly.
""if that is n't like blair!
of course he could n't come like anybody else.
i wonder," she added in a tone unheard by anyone else save myself, "i wonder if he has come to take the child away."
my elation went out like a snuffed candle.
i had never thought of this.
if uncle blair took the story girl away would not life become rather savourless on the hill farm?
i turned and followed felicity and cecily out in a very subdued mood.
uncle blair and the story girl were just coming out of the orchard.
his arm was about her and hers was on his shoulder.
laughter and tears were contending in her eyes.
only once before -- when peter had come back from the valley of the shadow -- had i seen the story girl cry.
emotion had to go very deep with her ere it touched the source of tears.
i had always known that she loved her father passionately, though she rarely talked of him, understanding that her uncles and aunts were not whole-heartedly his friends.
but aunt janet's welcome was cordial enough, though a trifle flustered.
whatever thrifty, hard-working farmer folk might think of gay, bohemian blair stanley in his absence, in his presence even they liked him, by the grace of some winsome, lovable quality in the soul of him.
he had "a way with him" -- revealed even in the manner with which he caught staid aunt janet in his arms, swung her matronly form around as though she had been a slim schoolgirl, and kissed her rosy cheek.
""sister o" mine, are you never going to grow old?"
he said.
""here you are at forty-five with the roses of sixteen -- and not a gray hair, i'll wager."
""blair, blair, it is you who are always young," laughed aunt janet, not ill pleased.
""where in the world did you come from?
and what is this i hear of your sleeping all night in the hammock?"
""i've been painting in the lake district all summer, as you know," answered uncle blair, "and one day i just got homesick to see my little girl.
so i sailed for montreal without further delay.
i got here at eleven last night -- the station-master's son drove me down.
nice boy.
the old house was in darkness and i thought it would be a shame to rouse you all out of bed after a hard day's work.
so i decided that i would spend the night in the orchard.
it was moonlight, you know, and moonlight in an old orchard is one of the few things left over from the golden age."
""it was very foolish of you," said practical aunt janet.
""these september nights are real chilly.
you might have caught your death of cold -- or a bad dose of rheumatism."
""so i might.
no doubt it was foolish of me," agreed uncle blair gaily.
""it must have been the fault, of the moonlight.
moonlight, you know, sister janet, has an intoxicating quality.
it is a fine, airy, silver wine, such as fairies may drink at their revels, unharmed of it; but when a mere mortal sips of it, it mounts straightway to his brain, to the undoing of his daylight common sense.
however, i have got neither cold nor rheumatism, as a sensible person would have done had he ever been lured into doing such a non-sensible thing; there is a special providence for us foolish folk.
i enjoyed my night in the orchard; for a time i was companioned by sweet old memories; and then i fell asleep listening to the murmurs of the wind in those old trees yonder.
and i had a beautiful dream, janet.
i dreamed that the old orchard blossomed again, as it did that spring eighteen years ago.
i dreamed that its sunshine was the sunshine of spring, not autumn.
there was newness of life in my dream, janet, and the sweetness of forgotten words."
""was n't it strange about my dream?"
whispered the story girl to me.
""well, you'd better come in and have some breakfast," said aunt janet.
""these are my little girls -- felicity and cecily."
""i remember them as two most adorable tots," said uncle blair, shaking hands.
""they have n't changed quite so much as my own baby-child.
why, she's a woman, janet -- she's a woman."
""she's child enough still," said aunt janet hastily.
the story girl shook her long brown curls.
""i'm fifteen," she said.
""and you ought to see me in my long dress, father."
""we must not be separated any longer, dear heart," i heard uncle blair say tenderly.
i hoped that he meant he would stay in canada -- not that he would take the story girl away.
apart from this we had a gay day with uncle blair.
he evidently liked our society better than that of the grown-ups, for he was a child himself at heart, gay, irresponsible, always acting on the impulse of the moment.
we all found him a delightful companion.
there was no school that day, as mr. perkins was absent, attending a meeting of the teachers" convention, so we spent most of its golden hours in the orchard with uncle blair, listening to his fascinating accounts of foreign wanderings.
he also drew all our pictures for us, and this was especially delightful, for the day of the camera was only just dawning and none of us had ever had even our photographs taken.
sara ray's pleasure was, as usual, quite spoiled by wondering what her mother would say of it, for mrs. ray had, so it appeared, some very peculiar prejudices against the taking or making of any kind of picture whatsoever, owing to an exceedingly strict interpretation of the second commandment.
dan suggested that she need not tell her mother anything about it; but sara shook her head.
""i'll have to tell her.
i've made it a rule to tell ma everything i do ever since the judgment day."
""besides," added cecily seriously, "the family guide says one ought to tell one's mother everything."
""it's pretty hard sometimes, though," sighed sara.
""ma scolds so much when i do tell her things, that it sort of discourages me.
but when i think of how dreadful i felt the time of the judgment day over deceiving her in some things it nerves me up.
i'd do almost anything rather than feel like that the next time the judgment day comes."
""fe, fi, fo, fum, i smell a story," said uncle blair.
""what do you mean by speaking of the judgment day in the past tense?"
the story girl told him the tale of that dreadful sunday in the preceding summer and we all laughed with him at ourselves.
""all the same," muttered peter, "i do n't want to have another experience like that.
i hope i'll be dead the next time the judgment day comes."
""but you'll be raised up for it," said felix.
""oh, that'll be all right.
i wo n't mind that.
i wo n't know anything about it till it really happens.
it's the expecting it that's the worst."
""i do n't think you ought to talk of such things," said felicity.
when evening came we all went to golden milestone.
we knew the awkward man and his bride were expected home at sunset, and we meant to scatter flowers on the path by which she must enter her new home.
it was the story girl's idea, but i do n't think aunt janet would have let us go if uncle blair had not pleaded for us.
he asked to be taken along, too, and we agreed, if he would stand out of sight when the newly married pair came home.
""you see, father, the awkward man wo n't mind us, because we're only children and he knows us well," explained the story girl, "but if he sees you, a stranger, it might confuse him and we might spoil the homecoming, and that would be such a pity."
so we went to golden milestone, laden with all the flowery spoil we could plunder from both gardens.
it was a clear amber-tinted september evening and far away, over markdale harbour, a great round red moon was rising as we waited.
uncle blair was hidden behind the wind-blown tassels of the pines at the gate, but he and the story girl kept waving their hands at each other and calling out gay, mirthful jests.
""do you really feel acquainted with your father?"
whispered sara ray wonderingly.
""it's long since you saw him."
""if i had n't seen him for a hundred years it would n't make any difference that way," laughed the story girl.
""s-s-h-s-s-h -- they're coming," whispered felicity excitedly.
and then they came -- beautiful alice blushing and lovely, in the prettiest of pretty blue dresses, and the awkward man, so fervently happy that he quite forgot to be awkward.
he lifted her out of the buggy gallantly and led her forward to us, smiling.
we retreated before them, scattering our flowers lavishly on the path, and alice dale walked to the very doorstep of her new home over a carpet of blossoms.
on the step they both paused and turned towards us, and we shyly did the proper thing in the way of congratulations and good wishes.
""it was so sweet of you to do this," said the smiling bride.
""it was lovely to be able to do it for you, dearest," whispered the story girl, "and oh, miss reade -- mrs. dale, i mean -- we all hope you'll be so, so happy for ever."
""i am sure i shall," said alice dale, turning to her husband.
he looked down into her eyes -- and we were quite forgotten by both of them.
we saw it, and slipped away, while jasper dale drew his wife into their home and shut the world out.
we scampered joyously away through the moonlit dusk.
uncle blair joined us at the gate and the story girl asked him what he thought of the bride.
""when she dies white violets will grow out of her dust," he answered.
""uncle blair says even queerer things than the story girl," felicity whispered to me.
and so that beautiful day went away from us, slipping through our fingers as we tried to hold it.
it hooded itself in shadows and fared forth on the road that is lighted by the white stars of evening.
it had been a gift of paradise.
its hours had all been fair and beloved.
from dawn flush to fall of night there had been naught to mar it.
it took with it its smiles and laughter.
but it left the boon of memory.
chapter xxvii.
the old order changeth "i am going away with father when he goes.
he is going to spend the winter in paris, and i am to go to school there."
the story girl told us this one day in the orchard.
there was a little elation in her tone, but more regret.
the news was not a great surprise to us.
we had felt it in the air ever since uncle blair's arrival.
aunt janet had been very unwilling to let the story girl go.
but uncle blair was inexorable.
it was time, he said, that she should go to a better school than the little country one in carlisle; and besides, he did not want her to grow into womanhood a stranger to him.
so it was finally decided that she was to go.
""just think, you are going to europe," said sara ray in an awe-struck tone.
""wo n't that be splendid!"
""i suppose i'll like it after a while," said the story girl slowly, "but i know i'll be dreadfully homesick at first.
of course, it will be lovely to be with father, but oh, i'll miss the rest of you so much!"
""just think how we'll miss you," sighed cecily.
""it will be so lonesome here this winter, with you and peter both gone.
oh, dear, i do wish things did n't have to change."
felicity said nothing.
she kept looking down at the grass on which she sat, absently pulling at the slender blades.
presently we saw two big tears roll down over her cheeks.
the story girl looked surprised.
""are you crying because i'm going away, felicity?"
she asked.
""of course i am," answered felicity, with a big sob.
""do you think i've no f-f-eeling?"
""i did n't think you'd care much," said the story girl frankly.
""you've never seemed to like me very much."
""i d-don" t wear my h-heart on my sleeve," said poor felicity, with an attempt at dignity.
""i think you m-might stay.
your father would let you s-stay if you c-coaxed him."
""well, you see i'd have to go some time," sighed the story girl, "and the longer it was put off the harder it would be.
but i do feel dreadfully about it.
i ca n't even take poor paddy.
i'll have to leave him behind, and oh, i want you all to promise to be kind to him for my sake."
we all solemnly assured her that we would.
""i'll g-give him cream every m-morning and n-night," sobbed felicity, "but i'll never be able to look at him without crying.
he'll make me think of you."
""well, i'm not going right away," said the story girl, more cheerfully.
""not till the last of october.
so we have over a month yet to have a good time in.
let's all just determine to make it a splendid month for the last.
we wo n't think about my going at all till we have to, and we wo n't have any quarrels among us, and we'll just enjoy ourselves all we possibly can.
so do n't cry any more, felicity.
i'm awfully glad you do like me and am sorry i'm going away, but let's all forget it for a month."
felicity sighed, and tucked away her damp handkerchief.
""it is n't so easy for me to forget things, but i'll try," she said disconsolately, "and if you want any more cooking lessons before you go i'll be real glad to teach you anything i know."
this was a high plane of self-sacrifice for felicity to attain.
but the story girl shook her head.
""no, i'm not going to bother my head about cooking lessons this last month.
it's too vexing."
""do you remember the time you made the pudding --" began peter, and suddenly stopped.
""out of sawdust?"
finished the story girl cheerfully.
""you need n't be afraid to mention it to me after this.
i do n't mind any more.
i begin to see the fun of it now.
i should think i do remember it -- and the time i baked the bread before it was raised enough."
""people have made worse mistakes than that," said felicity kindly.
""such as using tooth-powd --" but here dan stopped abruptly, remembering the story girl's plea for a beautiful month.
felicity coloured, but said nothing -- did not even look anything.
""we have had lots of fun together one way or another," said cecily, retrospectively.
""just think how much we've laughed this last year or so," said the story girl.
""we've had good times together; but i think we'll have lots more splendid years ahead."
""eden is always behind us -- paradise always before," said uncle blair, coming up in time to hear her.
he said it with a sigh that was immediately lost in one of his delightful smiles.
""i like uncle blair so much better than i expected to," felicity confided to me.
""mother says he's a rolling stone, but there really is something very nice about him, although he says a great many things i do n't understand.
i suppose the story girl will have a very gay time in paris."
""she's going to school and she'll have to study hard," i said.
""she says she's going to study for the stage," said felicity.
""uncle roger thinks it is all right, and says she'll be very famous some day.
but mother thinks it's dreadful, and so do i." "aunt julia is a concert singer," i said.
""oh, that's very different.
but i hope poor sara will get on all right," sighed felicity.
""you never know what may happen to a person in those foreign countries.
and everybody says paris is such a wicked place.
but we must hope for the best," she concluded in a resigned tone.
that evening the story girl and i drove the cows to pasture after milking, and when we came home we sought out uncle blair in the orchard.
he was sauntering up and down uncle stephen's walk, his hands clasped behind him and his beautiful, youthful face uplifted to the western sky where waves of night were breaking on a dim primrose shore of sunset.
""see that star over there in the south-west?"
he said, as we joined him.
""the one just above that pine?
an evening star shining over a dark pine tree is the whitest thing in the universe -- because it is living whiteness -- whiteness possessing a soul.
how full this old orchard is of twilight!
do you know, i have been trysting here with ghosts."
""the family ghost?"
i asked, very stupidly.
""no, not the family ghost.
i never saw beautiful, broken-hearted emily yet.
your mother saw her once, sara -- that was a strange thing," he added absently, as if to himself.
""did mother really see her?"
whispered the story girl.
""well, she always believed she did.
who knows?"
""do you think there are such things as ghosts, uncle blair?"
i asked curiously.
""i never saw any, beverley."
""but you said you were trysting with ghosts here this evening," said the story girl.
""oh, yes -- the ghosts of the old years.
i love this orchard because of its many ghosts.
we are good comrades, those ghosts and i; we walk and talk -- we even laugh together -- sorrowful laughter that has sorrow's own sweetness.
and always there comes to me one dear phantom and wanders hand in hand with me -- a lost lady of the old years."
""my mother?"
said the story girl very softly.
""yes, your mother.
here, in her old haunts, it is impossible for me to believe that she can be dead -- that her laughter can be dead.
she was the gayest, sweetest thing -- and so young -- only three years older than you, sara.
yonder old house had been glad because of her for eighteen years when i met her first."
""i wish i could remember her," said the story girl, with a little sigh.
""i have n't even a picture of her.
why did n't you paint one, father?"
""she would never let me.
she had some queer, funny, half-playful, half-earnest superstition about it.
but i always meant to when she would become willing to let me.
and then -- she died.
her twin brother felix died the same day.
there was something strange about that, too.
i was holding her in my arms and she was looking up at me; suddenly she looked past me and gave a little start.
"felix!"
she said.
for a moment she trembled and then she smiled and looked up at me again a little beseechingly.
"felix has come for me, dear," she said.
"we were always together before you came -- you must not mind -- you must be glad i do not have to go alone."
well, who knows?
but she left me, sara -- she left me."
there was that in uncle blair's voice that kept us silent for a time.
then the story girl said, still very softly: "what did mother look like, father?
i do n't look the least little bit like her, do i?"
""no, i wish you did, you brown thing.
your mother's face was as white as a wood-lily, with only a faint dream of rose in her cheeks.
she had the eyes of one who always had a song in her heart -- blue as a mist, those eyes were.
she had dark lashes, and a little red mouth that quivered when she was very sad or very happy like a crimson rose too rudely shaken by the wind.
she was as slim and lithe as a young, white-stemmed birch tree.
how i loved her!
how happy we were!
but he who accepts human love must bind it to his soul with pain, and she is not lost to me.
nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it."
uncle blair looked up at the evening star.
we saw that he had forgotten us, and we slipped away, hand in hand, leaving him alone in the memory-haunted shadows of the old orchard.
chapter xxviii.
the path to arcady october that year gathered up all the spilled sunshine of the summer and clad herself in it as in a garment.
the story girl had asked us to try to make the last month together beautiful, and nature seconded our efforts, giving us that most beautiful of beautiful things -- a gracious and perfect moon of falling leaves.
there was not in all that vanished october one day that did not come in with auroral splendour and go out attended by a fair galaxy of evening stars -- not a day when there were not golden lights in the wide pastures and purple hazes in the ripened distances.
never was anything so gorgeous as the maple trees that year.
maples are trees that have primeval fire in their souls.
it glows out a little in their early youth, before the leaves open, in the redness and rosy-yellowness of their blossoms, but in summer it is carefully hidden under a demure, silver-lined greenness.
then when autumn comes, the maples give up trying to be sober and flame out in all the barbaric splendour and gorgeousness of their real nature, making of the hills things out of an arabian nights dream in the golden prime of good haroun alraschid.
you may never know what scarlet and crimson really are until you see them in their perfection on an october hillside, under the unfathomable blue of an autumn sky.
all the glow and radiance and joy at earth's heart seem to have broken loose in a splendid determination to express itself for once before the frost of winter chills her beating pulses.
it is the year's carnival ere the dull lenten days of leafless valleys and penitential mists come.
the time of apple-picking had come around once more and we worked joyously.
uncle blair picked apples with us, and between him and the story girl it was an october never to be forgotten.
""will you go far afield for a walk with me to-day?"
he said to her and me, one idle afternoon of opal skies, pied meadows and misty hills.
it was saturday and peter had gone home; felix and dan were helping uncle alec top turnips; cecily and felicity were making cookies for sunday, so the story girl and i were alone in uncle stephen's walk.
we liked to be alone together that last month, to think the long, long thoughts of youth and talk about our futures.
there had grown up between us that summer a bond of sympathy that did not exist between us and the others.
we were older than they -- the story girl was fifteen and i was nearly that; and all at once it seemed as if we were immeasurably older than the rest, and possessed of dreams and visions and forward-reaching hopes which they could not possibly share or understand.
at times we were still children, still interested in childish things.
but there came hours when we seemed to our two selves very grown up and old, and in those hours we talked our dreams and visions and hopes, vague and splendid, as all such are, over together, and so began to build up, out of the rainbow fragments of our childhood's companionship, that rare and beautiful friendship which was to last all our lives, enriching and enstarring them.
for there is no bond more lasting than that formed by the mutual confidences of that magic time when youth is slipping from the sheath of childhood and beginning to wonder what lies for it beyond those misty hills that bound the golden road.
""where are you going?"
asked the story girl.
""to "the woods that belt the gray hillside" -- ay, and overflow beyond it into many a valley purple-folded in immemorial peace," answered uncle blair.
""i have a fancy for one more ramble in prince edward island woods before i leave canada again.
but i would not go alone.
so come, you two gay youthful things to whom all life is yet fair and good, and we will seek the path to arcady.
there will be many little things along our way to make us glad.
joyful sounds will "come ringing down the wind;" a wealth of gypsy gold will be ours for the gathering; we will learn the potent, unutterable charm of a dim spruce wood and the grace of flexile mountain ashes fringing a lonely glen; we will tryst with the folk of fur and feather; we'll hearken to the music of gray old firs.
come, and you'll have a ramble and an afternoon that you will both remember all your lives."
we did have it; never has its remembrance faded; that idyllic afternoon of roving in the old carlisle woods with the story girl and uncle blair gleams in my book of years, a page of living beauty.
yet it was but a few hours of simplest pleasure; we wandered pathlessly through the sylvan calm of those dear places which seemed that day to be full of a great friendliness; uncle blair sauntered along behind us, whistling softly; sometimes he talked to himself; we delighted in those brief reveries of his; uncle blair was the only man i have ever known who could, when he so willed, "talk like a book," and do it without seeming ridiculous; perhaps it was because he had the knack of choosing "fit audience, though few," and the proper time to appeal to that audience.
we went across the fields, intending to skirt the woods at the back of uncle alec's farm and find a lane that cut through uncle roger's woods; but before we came to it we stumbled on a sly, winding little path quite by accident -- if, indeed, there can be such a thing as accident in the woods, where i am tempted to think we are led by the good people along such of their fairy ways as they have a mind for us to walk in.
""go to, let us explore this," said uncle blair.
""it always drags terribly at my heart to go past a wood lane if i can make any excuse at all for traversing it: for it is the by-ways that lead to the heart of the woods and we must follow them if we would know the forest and be known of it.
when we can really feel its wild heart beating against ours its subtle life will steal into our veins and make us its own for ever, so that no matter where we go or how wide we wander in the noisy ways of cities or over the lone ways of the sea, we shall yet be drawn back to the forest to find our most enduring kinship."
""i always feel so satisfied in the woods," said the story girl dreamily, as we turned in under the low-swinging fir boughs.
""trees seem such friendly things."
""they are the most friendly things in god's good creation," said uncle blair emphatically.
""and it is so easy to live with them.
to hold converse with pines, to whisper secrets with the poplars, to listen to the tales of old romance that beeches have to tell, to walk in eloquent silence with self-contained firs, is to learn what real companionship is.
besides, trees are the same all over the world.
a beech tree on the slopes of the pyrenees is just what a beech tree here in these carlisle woods is; and there used to be an old pine hereabouts whose twin brother i was well acquainted with in a dell among the apennines.
listen to those squirrels, will you, chattering over yonder.
did you ever hear such a fuss over nothing?
squirrels are the gossips and busybodies of the woods; they have n't learned the fine reserve of its other denizens.
but after all, there is a certain shrill friendliness in their greeting."
""they seem to be scolding us," i said, laughing.
""oh, they are not half such scolds as they sound," answered uncle blair gaily.
""if they would but "tak a thought and mend" their shrew-like ways they would be dear, lovable creatures enough."
""if i had to be an animal i think i'd like to be a squirrel," said the story girl.
""it must be next best thing to flying."
""just see what a spring that fellow gave," laughed uncle blair.
""and now listen to his song of triumph!
i suppose that chasm he cleared seemed as wide and deep to him as niagara gorge would to us if we leaped over it.
well, the wood people are a happy folk and very well satisfied with themselves."
those who have followed a dim, winding, balsamic path to the unexpected hollow where a wood-spring lies have found the rarest secret the forest can reveal.
such was our good fortune that day.
at the end of our path we found it, under the pines, a crystal-clear thing with lips unkissed by so much as a stray sunbeam.
""it is easy to dream that this is one of the haunted springs of old romance," said uncle blair."
't is an enchanted spot this, i am very sure, and we should go softly, speaking low, lest we disturb the rest of a white, wet naiad, or break some spell that has cost long years of mystic weaving."
""it's so easy to believe things in the woods," said the story girl, shaping a cup from a bit of golden-brown birch bark and filling it at the spring.
""drink a toast in that water, sara," said uncle blair.
""there's not a doubt that it has some potent quality of magic in it and the wish you wish over it will come true."
the story girl lifted her golden-hued flagon to her red lips.
her hazel eyes laughed at us over the brim.
""here's to our futures," she cried, "i wish that every day of our lives may be better than the one that went before."
""an extravagant wish -- a very wish of youth," commented uncle blair, "and yet in spite of its extravagance, a wish that will come true if you are true to yourselves.
in that case, every day will be better than all that went before -- but there will be many days, dear lad and lass, when you will not believe it."
we did not understand him, but we knew uncle blair never explained his meaning.
when asked it he was wont to answer with a smile, "some day you'll grow to it.
wait for that."
so we addressed ourselves to follow the brook that stole away from the spring in its windings and doublings and tricky surprises.
""a brook," quoth uncle blair, "is the most changeful, bewitching, lovable thing in the world.
it is never in the same mind or mood two minutes.
here it is sighing and murmuring as if its heart were broken.
but listen -- yonder by the birches it is laughing as if it were enjoying some capital joke all by itself."
it was indeed a changeful brook; here it would make a pool, dark and brooding and still, where we bent to look at our mirrored faces; then it grew communicative and gossiped shallowly over a broken pebble bed where there was a diamond dance of sunbeams and no troutling or minnow could glide through without being seen.
sometimes its banks were high and steep, hung with slender ashes and birches; again they were mere, low margins, green with delicate mosses, shelving out of the wood.
once it came to a little precipice and flung itself over undauntedly in an indignation of foam, gathering itself up rather dizzily among the mossy stones below.
it was some time before it got over its vexation; it went boiling and muttering along, fighting with the rotten logs that lie across it, and making far more fuss than was necessary over every root that interfered with it.
we were getting tired of its ill-humour and talked of leaving it, when it suddenly grew sweet-tempered again, swooped around a curve -- and presto, we were in fairyland.
it was a little dell far in the heart of the woods.
a row of birches fringed the brook, and each birch seemed more exquisitely graceful and golden than her sisters.
the woods receded from it on every hand, leaving it lying in a pool of amber sunshine.
the yellow trees were mirrored in the placid stream, with now and then a leaf falling on the water, mayhap to drift away and be used, as uncle blair suggested, by some adventurous wood sprite who had it in mind to fare forth to some far-off, legendary region where all the brooks ran into the sea.
""oh, what a lovely place!"
i exclaimed, looking around me with delight.
""a spell of eternity is woven over it, surely," murmured uncle blair.
""winter may not touch it, or spring ever revisit it.
it should be like this for ever."
""let us never come here again," said the story girl softly, "never, no matter how often we may be in carlisle.
then we will never see it changed or different.
we can always remember it just as we see it now, and it will be like this for ever for us."
""i'm going to sketch it," said uncle blair.
while he sketched it the story girl and i sat on the banks of the brook and she told me the story of the sighing reed.
it was a very simple little story, that of the slender brown reed which grew by the forest pool and always was sad and sighing because it could not utter music like the brook and the birds and the winds.
all the bright, beautiful things around it mocked it and laughed at it for its folly.
who would ever look for music in it, a plain, brown, unbeautiful thing?
but one day a youth came through the wood; he was as beautiful as the spring; he cut the brown reed and fashioned it according to his liking; and then he put it to his lips and breathed on it; and, oh, the music that floated through the forest!
it was so entrancing that everything -- brooks and birds and winds -- grew silent to listen to it.
never had anything so lovely been heard; it was the music that had for so long been shut up in the soul of the sighing reed and was set free at last through its pain and suffering.
i had heard the story girl tell many a more dramatic tale; but that one stands out for me in memory above them all, partly, perhaps, because of the spot in which she told it, partly because it was the last one i was to hear her tell for many years -- the last one she was ever to tell me on the golden road.
when uncle blair had finished his sketch the shafts of sunshine were turning crimson and growing more and more remote; the early autumn twilight was falling over the woods.
we left our dell, saying good-bye to it for ever, as the story girl had suggested, and we went slowly homeward through the fir woods, where a haunting, indescribable odour stole out to meet us.
""there is magic in the scent of dying fir," uncle blair was saying aloud to himself, as if forgetting he was not quite alone.
""it gets into our blood like some rare, subtly-compounded wine, and thrills us with unutterable sweetnesses, as of recollections from some other fairer life, lived in some happier star.
compared to it, all other scents seem heavy and earth-born, luring to the valleys instead of the heights.
but the tang of the fir summons onward and upward to some "far-off, divine event" -- some spiritual peak of attainment whence we shall see with unfaltering, unclouded vision the spires of some aerial city beautiful, or the fulfilment of some fair, fadeless land of promise."
he was silent for a moment, then added in a lower tone, "felicity, you loved the scent of dying fir.
if you were here tonight with me -- felicity -- felicity!"
something in his voice made me suddenly sad.
i was comforted when i felt the story girl slip her hand into mine.
so we walked out of the woods into the autumn dusk.
we were in a little valley.
half-way up the opposite slope a brush fire was burning clearly and steadily in a maple grove.
there was something indescribably alluring in that fire, glowing so redly against the dark background of forest and twilit hill.
""let us go to it," cried uncle blair, gaily, casting aside his sorrowful mood and catching our hands.
""a wood fire at night has a fascination not to be resisted by those of mortal race.
hasten -- we must not lose time."
""oh, it will burn a long time yet," i gasped, for uncle blair was whisking us up the hill at a merciless rate.
""you ca n't be sure.
it may have been lighted by some good, honest farmer-man, bent on tidying up his sugar orchard, but it may also, for anything we know, have been kindled by no earthly woodman as a beacon or summons to the tribes of fairyland, and may vanish away if we tarry."
it did not vanish and presently we found ourselves in the grove.
it was very beautiful; the fire burned with a clear, steady glow and a soft crackle; the long arcades beneath the trees were illuminated with a rosy radiance, beyond which lurked companies of gray and purple shadows.
everything was very still and dreamy and remote.
""it is impossible that out there, just over the hill, lies a village of men, where tame household lamps are shining," said uncle blair.
""i feel as if we must be thousands of miles away from everything we've ever known," murmured the story girl.
""so you are!"
said uncle blair emphatically.
""you're back in the youth of the race -- back in the beguilement of the young world.
everything is in this hour -- the beauty of classic myths, the primal charm of the silent and the open, the lure of mystery.
why, it's a time and place when and where everything might come true -- when the men in green might creep out to join hands and dance around the fire, or dryads steal from their trees to warm their white limbs, grown chilly in october frosts, by the blaze.
i would n't be much surprised if we should see something of the kind.
is n't that the flash of an ivory shoulder through yonder gloom?
and did n't you see a queer little elfin face peering at us around that twisted gray trunk?
but one ca n't be sure.
mortal eyesight is too slow and clumsy a thing to match against the flicker of a pixy-litten fire."
hand in hand we wandered through that enchanted place, seeking the folk of elf-land, "and heard their mystic voices calling, from fairy knoll and haunted hill."
not till the fire died down into ashes did we leave the grove.
then we found that the full moon was gleaming lustrously from a cloudless sky across the valley.
between us and her stretched up a tall pine, wondrously straight and slender and branchless to its very top, where it overflowed in a crest of dark boughs against the silvery splendour behind it.
beyond, the hill farms were lying in a suave, white radiance.
""does n't it seem a long, long time to you since we left home this afternoon?"
asked the story girl.
""and yet it is only a few hours."
only a few hours -- true; yet such hours were worth a cycle of common years untouched by the glory and the dream.
chapter xxix.
we lose a friend our beautiful october was marred by one day of black tragedy -- the day paddy died.
for paddy, after seven years of as happy a life as ever a cat lived, died suddenly -- of poison, as was supposed.
where he had wandered in the darkness to meet his doom we did not know, but in the frosty dawnlight he dragged himself home to die.
we found him lying on the doorstep when we got up, and it did not need aunt janet's curt announcement, or uncle blair's reluctant shake of the head, to tell us that there was no chance of our pet recovering this time.
we felt that nothing could be done.
lard and sulphur on his paws would be of no use, nor would any visit to peg bowen avail.
we stood around in mournful silence; the story girl sat down on the step and took poor paddy upon her lap.
""i s "pose there's no use even in praying now," said cecily desperately.
""it would n't do any harm to try," sobbed felicity.
""you need n't waste your prayers," said dan mournfully, "pat is beyond human aid.
you can tell that by his eyes.
besides, i do n't believe it was the praying cured him last time."
""no, it was peg bowen," declared peter, "but she could n't have bewitched him this time for she's been away for months, nobody knows where."
""if he could only tell us where he feels the worst!"
said cecily piteously.
""it's so dreadful to see him suffering and not be able to do a single thing to help him!"
""i do n't think he's suffering much now," i said comfortingly.
the story girl said nothing.
she passed and repassed her long brown hand gently over her pet's glossy fur.
pat lifted his head and essayed to creep a little nearer to his beloved mistress.
the story girl drew his limp body close in her arms.
there was a plaintive little mew -- a long quiver -- and paddy's friendly soul had fared forth to wherever it is that good cats go.
""well, he's gone," said dan, turning his back abruptly to us.
""it does n't seem as if it can be true," sobbed cecily.
""this time yesterday morning he was full of life."
""he drank two full saucers of cream," moaned felicity, "and i saw him catch a mouse in the evening.
maybe it was the last one he ever caught."
""he did for many a mouse in his day," said peter, anxious to pay his tribute to the departed."
"he was a cat -- take him for all in all.
we shall not look upon his like again,"" quoted uncle blair.
felicity and cecily and sara ray cried so much that aunt janet lost patience completely and told them sharply that they would have something to cry for some day -- which did not seem to comfort them much.
the story girl shed no tears, though the look in her eyes hurt more than weeping.
""after all, perhaps it's for the best," she said drearily.
""i've been feeling so badly over having to go away and leave paddy.
no matter how kind you'd all be to him i know he'd miss me terribly.
he was n't like most cats who do n't care who comes and goes as long as they get plenty to eat.
paddy would n't have been contented without me."
""oh, no-o-o, oh, no-o-o," wailed sara ray lugubriously.
felix shot a disgusted glance at her.
""i do n't see what you are making such a fuss about," he said unfeelingly.
""he was n't your cat."
""but i l-l-oved him," sobbed sara, "and i always feel bad when my friends d-do."
""i wish we could believe that cats went to heaven, like people," sighed cecily.
""do you really think it is n't possible?"
uncle blair shook his head.
""i'm afraid not.
i'd like to think cats have a chance for heaven, but i ca n't.
there's nothing heavenly about cats, delightful creatures though they are."
""blair, i'm really surprised to hear the things you say to the children," said aunt janet severely.
""surely you would n't prefer me to tell them that cats do go to heaven," protested uncle blair.
""i think it's wicked to carry on about an animal as those children do," answered aunt janet decidedly, "and you should n't encourage them.
here now, children, stop making a fuss.
bury that cat and get off to your apple picking."
we had to go to our work, but paddy was not to be buried in any such off-hand fashion as that.
it was agreed that we should bury him in the orchard at sunset that evening, and sara ray, who had to go home, declared she would be back for it, and implored us to wait for her if she did n't come exactly on time.
""i may n't be able to get away till after milking," she sniffed, "but i do n't want to miss it.
even a cat's funeral is better than none at all."
""horrid thing!"
said felicity, barely waiting until sara was out of earshot.
we worked with heavy hearts that day; the girls cried bitterly most of the time and we boys whistled defiantly.
but as evening drew on we began to feel a sneaking interest in the details of the funeral.
as dan said, the thing should be done properly, since paddy was no common cat.
the story girl selected the spot for the grave, in a little corner behind the cherry copse, where early violets enskied the grass in spring, and we boys dug the grave, making it "soft and narrow," as the heroine of the old ballad wanted hers made.
sara ray, who managed to come in time after all, and felicity stood and watched us, but cecily and the story girl kept far aloof.
""this time last night you never thought you'd be digging pat's grave to-night," sighed felicity.
""we little k-know what a day will bring forth," sobbed sara.
""i've heard the minister say that and it is true."
""of course it's true.
it's in the bible; but i do n't think you should repeat it in connection with a cat," said felicity dubiously.
when all was in readiness the story girl brought her pet through the orchard where he had so often frisked and prowled.
no useless coffin enclosed his breast but he reposed in a neat cardboard box.
""i wonder if it would be right to say "ashes to ashes and dust to dust,"" said peter.
""no, it would n't," averred felicity.
""it would be real wicked."
""i think we ought to sing a hymn, anyway," asseverated sara ray.
""well, we might do that, if it is n't a very religious one," conceded felicity.
""how would "pull for the shore, sailor, pull for the shore," do?"
asked cecily.
""that never seemed to me a very religious hymn."
""but it does n't seem very appropriate to a funeral occasion either," said felicity.
""i think "lead, kindly light," would be ever so much more suitable," suggested sara ray, "and it is kind of soothing and melancholy too."
""we are not going to sing anything," said the story girl coldly.
""do you want to make the affair ridiculous?
we will just fill up the grave quietly and put a flat stone over the top."
""it is n't much like my idea of a funeral," muttered sara ray discontentedly.
""never mind, we're going to have a real obituary about him in our magazine," whispered cecily consolingly.
""and peter is going to cut his name on top of the stone," added felicity.
""only we must n't let on to the grown-ups until it is done, because they might say it was n't right."
we left the orchard, a sober little band, with the wind of the gray twilight blowing round us.
uncle roger passed us at the gate.
""so the last sad obsequies are over?"
he remarked with a grin.
and we hated uncle roger.
but we loved uncle blair because he said quietly, "and so you've buried your little comrade?"
so much may depend on the way a thing is said.
but not even uncle blair's sympathy could take the sting out of the fact that there was no paddy to get the froth that night at milking time.
felicity cried bitterly all the time she was straining the milk.
many human beings have gone to their graves unattended by as much real regret as followed that one gray pussy cat to his.
chapter xxx.
prophecies "here's a letter for you from father," said felix, tossing it to me as he came through the orchard gate.
we had been picking apples all day, but were taking a mid-afternoon rest around the well, with a cup of its sparkling cold water to refresh us.
i opened the letter rather indifferently, for father, with all his excellent and lovable traits, was but a poor correspondent; his letters were usually very brief and very unimportant.
this letter was brief enough, but it was freighted with a message of weighty import.
i sat gazing stupidly at the sheet after i had read it until felix exclaimed, "bev, what's the matter with you?
what's in that letter?"
""father is coming home," i said dazedly.
""he is to leave south america in a fortnight and will be here in november to take us back to toronto."
everybody gasped.
sara ray, of course, began to cry, which aggravated me unreasonably.
""well," said felix, when he got his second wind, "i'll be awful glad to see father again, but i tell you i do n't like the thought of leaving here."
i felt exactly the same but, in view of sara ray's tears, admit it i would not; so i sat in grum silence while the other tongues wagged.
""if i were not going away myself i'd feel just terrible," said the story girl.
""even as it is i'm real sorry.
i'd like to be able to think of you as all here together when i'm gone, having good times and writing me about them."
""it'll be awfully dull when you fellows go," muttered dan.
""i'm sure i do n't know what we're ever going to do here this winter," said felicity, with the calmness of despair.
""thank goodness there are no more fathers to come back," breathed cecily with a vicious earnestness that made us all laugh, even in the midst of our dismay.
we worked very half-heartedly the rest of the day, and it was not until we assembled in the orchard in the evening that our spirits recovered something like their wonted level.
it was clear and slightly frosty; the sun had declined behind a birch on a distant hill and it seemed a tree with a blazing heart of fire.
the great golden willow at the lane gate was laughter-shaken in the wind of evening.
even amid all the changes of our shifting world we could not be hopelessly low-spirited -- except sara ray, who was often so, and peter, who was rarely so.
but peter had been sorely vexed in spirit for several days.
the time was approaching for the october issue of our magazine and he had no genuine fiction ready for it.
he had taken so much to heart felicity's taunt that his stories were all true that he had determined to have a really-truly false one in the next number.
but the difficulty was to get anyone to write it.
he had asked the story girl to do it, but she refused; then he appealed to me and i shirked.
finally peter determined to write a story himself.
""it ought n't to be any harder than writing a poem and i managed that," he said dolefully.
he worked at it in the evenings in the granary loft, and the rest of us forebore to question him concerning it, because he evidently disliked talking about his literary efforts.
but this evening i had to ask him if he would soon have it ready, as i wanted to make up the paper.
""it's done," said peter, with an air of gloomy triumph.
""it do n't amount to much, but anyhow i made it all out of my own head.
not one word of it was ever printed or told before, and nobody can say there was."
""then i guess we have all the stuff in and i'll have our magazine ready to read by tomorrow night," i said.
""i s "pose it will be the last one we'll have," sighed cecily.
""we ca n't carry it on after you all go, and it has been such fun."
""bev will be a real newspaper editor some day," declared the story girl, on whom the spirit of prophecy suddenly descended that night.
she was swinging on the bough of an apple tree, with a crimson shawl wrapped about her head, and her eyes were bright with roguish fire.
""how do you know he will?"
asked felicity.
""oh, i can tell futures," answered the story girl mysteriously.
""i know what's going to happen to all of you.
shall i tell you?"
""do, just for the fun of it," i said.
""then some day we'll know just how near you came to guessing right.
go on.
what else about me?"
""you'll write books, too, and travel all over the world," continued the story girl.
""felix will be fat to the end of his life, and he will be a grandfather before he is fifty, and he will wear a long black beard."
""i wo n't," cried felix disgustedly.
""i hate whiskers.
maybe i ca n't help the grandfather part, but i can help having a beard."
""you ca n't.
it's written in the stars.""
"tai n't.
the stars ca n't prevent me from shaving."
""wo n't grandpa felix sound awful funny?"
reflected felicity.
""peter will be a minister," went on the story girl.
""well, i might be something worse," remarked peter, in a not ungratified tone.
""dan will be a farmer and will marry a girl whose name begins with k and he will have eleven children.
and he'll vote grit."
""i wo n't," cried scandalized dan.
""you do n't know a thing about it.
catch me ever voting grit!
as for the rest of it -- i do n't care.
farming's well enough, though i'd rather be a sailor."
""do n't talk such nonsense," protested felicity sharply.
""what on earth do you want to be a sailor for and be drowned?"
""all sailors are n't drowned," said dan.
""most of them are.
look at uncle stephen."
""you ai n't sure he was drowned."
""well, he disappeared, and that is worse."
""how do you know?
disappearing might be real easy."
""it's not very easy for your family."
""hush, let's hear the rest of the predictions," said cecily.
""felicity," resumed the story girl gravely, "will marry a minister."
sara ray giggled and felicity blushed.
peter tried hard not to look too self-consciously delighted.
""she will be a perfect housekeeper and will teach a sunday school class and be very happy all her life."
""will her husband be happy?"
queried dan solemnly.
""i guess he'll be as happy as your wife," retorted felicity reddening.
""he'll be the happiest man in the world," declared peter warmly.
""what about me?"
asked sara ray.
the story girl looked rather puzzled.
it was so hard to imagine sara ray as having any kind of future.
yet sara was plainly anxious to have her fortune told and must be gratified.
""you'll be married," said the story girl recklessly, "and you'll live to be nearly a hundred years old, and go to dozens of funerals and have a great many sick spells.
you will learn not to cry after you are seventy; but your husband will never go to church."
""i'm glad you warned me," said sara ray solemnly, "because now i know i'll make him promise before i marry him that he will go."
""he wo n't keep the promise," said the story girl, shaking her head.
""but it is getting cold and cecily is coughing.
let us go in."
""you have n't told my fortune," protested cecily disappointedly.
the story girl looked very tenderly at cecily -- at the smooth little brown head, at the soft, shining eyes, at the cheeks that were often over-rosy after slight exertion, at the little sunburned hands that were always busy doing faithful work or quiet kindnesses.
a very strange look came over the story girl's face; her eyes grew sad and far-reaching, as if of a verity they pierced beyond the mists of hidden years.
""i could n't tell any fortune half good enough for you, dearest," she said, slipping her arm round cecily.
""you deserve everything good and lovely.
but you know i've only been in fun -- of course i do n't know anything about what's going to happen to us."
""perhaps you know more than you think for," said sara ray, who seemed much pleased with her fortune and anxious to believe it, despite the husband who would n't go to church.
""but i'd like to be told my fortune, even in fun," persisted cecily.
""everybody you meet will love you as long as you live."
said the story girl.
""there that's the very nicest fortune i can tell you, and it will come true whether the others do or not, and now we must go in."
we went, cecily still a little disappointed.
in later years i often wondered why the story girl refused to tell her fortune that night.
did some strange gleam of foreknowledge fall for a moment across her mirth-making?
did she realize in a flash of prescience that there was no earthly future for our sweet cecily?
not for her were to be the lengthening shadows or the fading garland.
the end was to come while the rainbow still sparkled on her wine of life, ere a single petal had fallen from her rose of joy.
long life was before all the others who trysted that night in the old homestead orchard; but cecily's maiden feet were never to leave the golden road.
chapter xxxi.
the last number of our magazine editorial it is with heartfelt regret that we take up our pen to announce that this will be the last number of our magazine.
we have edited ten numbers of it and it has been successful beyond our expectations.
it has to be discontinued by reason of circumstances over which we have no control and not because we have lost interest in it.
everybody has done his or her best for our magazine.
prince edward island expected everyone to do his and her duty and everyone did it.
mr. dan king conducted the etiquette department in a way worthy of the family guide itself.
he is especially entitled to commendation because he laboured under the disadvantage of having to furnish most of the questions as well as the answers.
miss felicity king has edited our helpful household department very ably, and miss cecily king's fashion notes were always up to date.
the personal column was well looked after by miss sara stanley and the story page has been a marked success under the able management of mr. peter craig, to whose original story in this issue, "the battle of the partridge eggs," we would call especial attention.
the exciting adventure series has also been very popular.
and now, in closing, we bid farewell to our staff and thank them one and all for their help and co-operation in the past year.
we have enjoyed our work and we trust that they have too.
we wish them all happiness and success in years to come, and we hope that the recollection of our magazine will not be held least dear among the memories of their childhood.
-lrb- sobs from the girls -rrb-: "indeed it wo n't!"
obituary on october eighteenth, patrick grayfur departed for that bourne whence no traveller returns.
he was only a cat, but he had been our faithful friend for a long time and we are n't ashamed to be sorry for him.
there are lots of people who are not as friendly and gentlemanly as paddy was, and he was a great mouser.
we buried all that was mortal of poor pat in the orchard and we are never going to forget him.
we have resolved that whenever the date of his death comes round we'll bow our heads and pronounce his name at the hour of his funeral.
if we are anywhere where we ca n't say the name out loud we'll whisper it.
""farewell, dearest paddy, in all the years that are to be we'll cherish your memory faithfully."
-lsb- 1 -rsb- my most exciting adventure my most exciting adventure was the day i fell off uncle roger's loft two years ago.
i was n't excited until it was all over because i had n't time to be.
the story girl and i were looking for eggs in the loft.
it was filled with wheat straw nearly to the roof and it was an awful distance from us to the floor.
and wheat straw is so slippery.
i made a little spring and the straw slipped from under my feet and there i was going head first down from the loft.
it seemed to me i was an awful long time falling, but the story girl says i could n't have been more than three seconds.
but i know that i thought five thoughts and there seemed to be quite a long time between them.
the first thing i thought was, what has happened, because i really did n't know at first, it was so sudden.
then after a spell i thought the answer, i am falling off the loft.
and then i thought, what will happen to me when i strike the floor, and after another little spell i thought, i'll be killed.
and then i thought, well, i do n't care.
i really was n't a bit frightened.
i just was quite willing to be killed.
if there had n't been a big pile of chaff on the barn floor these words would never have been written.
but there was and i fell on it and was n't a bit hurt, only my hair and mouth and eyes and ears got all full of chaff.
the strange part is that i was n't a bit frightened when i thought i was going to be killed, but after all the danger was over i was awfully frightened and trembled so the story girl had to help me into the house.
felicity king.
the battle of the partridge eggs once upon a time there lived about half a mile from a forrest a farmer and his wife and his sons and daughters and a granddaughter.
the farmer and his wife loved this little girl very much but she caused them great trouble by running away into the woods and they often spent haf days looking for her.
one day she wondered further into the forrest than usual and she begun to be hungry.
then night closed in.
she asked a fox where she could get something to eat.
the fox told her he knew where there was a partridges nest and a bluejays nest full of eggs.
so he led her to the nests and she took five eggs out of each.
when the birds came home they missed the eggs and flew into a rage.
the bluejay put on his topcoat and was going to the partridge for law when he met the partridge coming to him.
they lit up a fire and commenced sining their deeds when they heard a tremendous howl close behind them.
they jumped up and put out the fire and were immejutly attacked by five great wolves.
the next day the little girl was rambelling through the woods when they saw her and took her prisoner.
after she had confessed that she had stole the eggs they told her to raise an army.
they would have to fight over the nests of eggs and whoever one would have the eggs.
so the partridge raised a great army of all kinds of birds except robins and the little girl got all the robins and foxes and bees and wasps.
and best of all the little girl had a gun and plenty of ammunishun.
the leader of her army was a wolf.
the result of the battle was that all the birds were killed except the partridge and the bluejay and they were taken prisoner and starved to death.
the little girl was then taken prisoner by a witch and cast into a dunjun full of snakes where she died from their bites and people who went through the forrest after that were taken prisoner by her ghost and cast into the same dunjun where they died.
about a year after the wood turned into a gold castle and one morning everything had vanished except a piece of a tree.
peter craig.
-lrb- dan, with a whistle: -- "well, i guess nobody can say peter ca n't write fiction after that."
sara ray, wiping away her tears: -- "it's a very interesting story, but it ends so sadly."
felix: -- "what made you call it the battle of the partridge eggs when the bluejay had just as much to do with it?"
peter, shortly: -- "because it sounded better that way."
felicity: -- "did she eat the eggs raw?"
sara ray: -- "poor little thing, i suppose if you're starving you ca n't be very particular."
cecily, sighing: -- "i wish you'd let her go home safe, peter, and not put her to such a cruel death."
beverley: -- "i do n't quite understand where the little girl got her gun and ammunition."
peter, suspecting that he is being made fun of: -- "if you could write a better story, why did n't you?
i give you the chance."
the story girl, with a preternaturally solemn face: -- "you should n't criticize peter's story like that.
it's a fairy tale, you know, and anything can happen in a fairy tale."
felicity: -- "there is n't a word about fairies in it!"
cecily: -- "besides, fairy tales always end nicely and this does n't."
peter, sulkily: -- "i wanted to punish her for running away from home."
dan: -- "well, i guess you did it all right."
cecily: -- "oh, well, it was very interesting, and that is all that is really necessary in a story." -rrb-
personals mr. blair stanley is visiting friends and relatives in carlisle.
he intends returning to europe shortly.
his daughter, miss sara, will accompany him.
mr. alan king is expected home from south america next month.
his sons will return with him to toronto.
beverley and felix have made hosts of friends during their stay in carlisle and will be much missed in social circles.
the mission band of carlisle presbyterian church completed their missionary quilt last week.
miss cecily king collected the largest sum on her square.
congratulations, cecily.
mr. peter craig will be residing in markdale after october and will attend school there this winter.
peter is a good fellow and we all wish him success and prosperity.
apple picking is almost ended.
there was an unusually heavy crop this year.
potatoes, not so good.
household department apple pies are the order of the day.
eggs are a very good price now.
uncle roger says it is n't fair to have to pay as much for a dozen little eggs as a dozen big ones, but they go just as far.
felicity king.
etiquette department f-l-t-y.
is it considered good form to eat peppermints in church?
ans.; no, not if a witch gives them to you.
no, f-l-x, we would not call treasure island or the pilgrim's progress dime novels.
yes, p-t-r, when you call on a young lady and her mother offers you a slice of bread and jam it is quite polite for you to accept it.
dan king.
fashion notes necklaces of roseberries are very much worn now.
it is considered smart to wear your school hat tilted over your left eye.
bangs are coming in.
em frewen has them.
she went to summerside for a visit and came back with them.
all the girls in school are going to bang their hair as soon as their mothers will let them.
but i do not intend to bang mine.
cecily king.
-lrb- sara ray, despairingly: -- "i know ma will never let me have bangs." -rrb-
funny paragraphs d-n.
what are details?
c-l-y.
i am not sure, but i think they are things that are left over.
-lrb- cecily, wonderingly: -- "i do n't see why that was put among the funny paragraphs.
should n't it have gone in the general information department?" -rrb-
old mr. mcintyre's son on the markdale road had been very sick for several years and somebody was sympathizing with him because his son was going to die.
""oh," mr. mcintyre said, quite easy, "he might as weel be awa".
he's only retarding buzziness."
felix king.
general information bureau p-t-r.
what kind of people live in uninhabited places?
ans.: cannibals, likely.
felix king.
-lsb- footnote 1: the obituary was written by mr. felix king, but the two lines of poetry were composed by miss sara ray. -rsb-
chapter xxxii.
our last evening together it was the evening before the day on which the story girl and uncle blair were to leave us, and we were keeping our last tryst together in the orchard where we had spent so many happy hours.
we had made a pilgrimage to all the old haunts -- the hill field, the spruce wood, the dairy, grandfather king's willow, the pulpit stone, pat's grave, and uncle stephen's walk; and now we foregathered in the sere grasses about the old well and feasted on the little jam turnovers felicity had made that day specially for the occasion.
""i wonder if we'll ever all be together again," sighed cecily.
""i wonder when i'll get jam turnovers like this again," said the story girl, trying to be gay but not making much of a success of it.
""if paris was n't so far away i could send you a box of nice things now and then," said felicity forlornly, "but i suppose there's no use thinking of that.
dear knows what they'll give you to eat over there."
""oh, the french have the reputation of being the best cooks in the world," rejoined the story girl, "but i know they ca n't beat your jam turnovers and plum puffs, felicity.
many a time i'll be hankering after them."
""if we ever do meet again you'll be grown up," said felicity gloomily.
""well, you wo n't have stood still yourselves, you know."
""no, but that's just the worst of it.
we'll all be different and everything will be changed."
""just think," said cecily, "last new year's eve we were wondering what would happen this year; and what a lot of things have happened that we never expected.
oh, dear!"
""if things never happened life would be pretty dull," said the story girl briskly.
""oh, do n't look so dismal, all of you."
""it's hard to be cheerful when everybody's going away," sighed cecily.
""well, let's pretend to be, anyway," insisted the story girl.
""do n't let's think of parting.
let's think instead of how much we've laughed this last year or so.
i'm sure i shall never forget this dear old place.
we've had so many good times here."
""and some bad times, too," reminded felix.
""remember when dan et the bad berries last summer?"
""and the time we were so scared over that bell ringing in the house," grinned peter.
""and the judgment day," added dan.
""and the time paddy was bewitched," suggested sara ray.
""and when peter was dying of the measles," said felicity.
""and the time jimmy patterson was lost," said dan.
""gee-whiz, but that scared me out of a year's growth."
""do you remember the time we took the magic seed," grinned peter.
""were n't we silly?"
said felicity.
""i really can never look billy robinson in the face when i meet him.
i'm always sure he's laughing at me in his sleeve."
""it's billy robinson who ought to be ashamed when he meets you or any of us," commented cecily severely.
""i'd rather be cheated than cheat other people."
""do you mind the time we bought god's picture?"
asked peter.
""i wonder if it's where we buried it yet," speculated felix.
""i put a stone over it, just as we did over pat," said cecily.
""i wish i could forget what god looks like," sighed sara ray.
""i ca n't forget it -- and i ca n't forget what the bad place is like either, ever since peter preached that sermon on it."
""when you get to be a real minister you'll have to preach that sermon over again, peter," grinned dan.
""my aunt jane used to say that people needed a sermon on that place once in a while," retorted peter seriously.
""do you mind the night i et the cucumbers and milk to make me dream?"
said cecily.
and therewith we hunted out our old dream books to read them again, and, forgetful of coming partings, laughed over them till the old orchard echoed to our mirth.
when we had finished we stood in a circle around the well and pledged "eternal friendship" in a cup of its unrivalled water.
then we joined hands and sang "auld lang syne."
sara ray cried bitterly in lieu of singing.
""look here," said the story girl, as we turned to leave the old orchard, "i want to ask a favour of you all.
do n't say good-bye to me tomorrow morning."
""why not?"
demanded felicity in astonishment.
""because it's such a hopeless sort of word.
do n't let's say it at all.
just see me off with a wave of your hands.
it wo n't seem half so bad then.
and do n't any of you cry if you can help it.
i want to remember you all smiling."
we went out of the old orchard where the autumn night wind was beginning to make its weird music in the russet boughs, and shut the little gate behind us.
our revels there were ended.
chapter xxxiii.
the story girl goes the morning dawned, rosy and clear and frosty.
everybody was up early, for the travellers must leave in time to catch the nine o'clock train.
the horse was harnessed and uncle alec was waiting by the door.
aunt janet was crying, but everybody else was making a valiant effort not to.
the awkward man and mrs. dale came to see the last of their favourite.
mrs. dale had brought her a glorious sheaf of chrysanthemums, and the awkward man gave her, quite gracefully, another little, old, limp book from his library.
""read it when you are sad or happy or lonely or discouraged or hopeful," he said gravely.
""he has really improved very much since he got married," whispered felicity to me.
sara stanley wore a smart new travelling suit and a blue felt hat with a white feather.
she looked so horribly grown up in it that we felt as if she were lost to us already.
sara ray had vowed tearfully the night before that she would be up in the morning to say farewell.
but at this juncture judy pineau appeared to say that sara, with her usual luck, had a sore throat, and that her mother consequently would not permit her to come.
so sara had written her parting words in a three-cornered pink note.
""my own darling friend: -- words can not express my feelings over not being able to go up this morning to say good-bye to one i so fondly adore.
when i think that i can not see you again my heart is almost too full for utterance.
but mother says i can not and i must obey.
but i will be present in spirit.
it just breaks my heart that you are going so far away.
you have always been so kind to me and never hurt my feelings as some do and i shall miss you so much.
but i earnestly hope and pray that you will be happy and prosperous wherever your lot is cast and not be seasick on the great ocean.
i hope you will find time among your many duties to write me a letter once in a while.
i shall always remember you and please remember me.
i hope we will meet again sometime, but if not may we meet in a far better world where there are no sad partings.
""your true and loving friend, "sara ray" "poor little sara," said the story girl, with a queer catch in her voice, as she slipped the tear-blotted note into her pocket.
""she is n't a bad little soul, and i'm sorry i could n't see her once more, though maybe it's just as well for she'd have to cry and set us all off.
i wo n't cry.
felicity, do n't you dare.
oh, you dear, darling people, i love you all so much and i'll go on loving you always."
""mind you write us every week at the very least," said felicity, winking furiously.
""blair, blair, watch over the child well," said aunt janet.
""remember, she has no mother."
the story girl ran over to the buggy and climbed in.
uncle blair followed her.
her arms were full of mrs. dale's chrysanthemums, held close up to her face, and her beautiful eyes shone softly at us over them.
no good-byes were said, as she wished.
we all smiled bravely and waved our hands as they drove out of the lane and down the moist red road into the shadows of the fir wood in the valley.
but we still stood there, for we knew we should see the story girl once more.
beyond the fir wood was an open curve in the road and she had promised to wave a last farewell as they passed around it.
we watched the curve in silence, standing in a sorrowful little group in the sunshine of the autumn morning.
the delight of the world had been ours on the golden road.
it had enticed us with daisies and rewarded us with roses.
blossom and lyric had waited on our wishes.
thoughts, careless and sweet, had visited us.
laughter had been our comrade and fearless hope our guide.
but now the shadow of change was over it.
""there she is," cried felicity.
the story girl stood up and waved her chrysanthemums at us.
we waved wildly back until the buggy had driven around the curve.
then we went slowly and silently back to the house.
_book_title_: nathaniel_hawthorne___the_vision_of_the_fountain_(from_"twice_told_tales").txt.out
at fifteen, i became a resident in a country village, more than a hundred miles from home.
the morning after my arrival -- a september morning, but warm and bright as any in july -- i rambled into a wood of oaks, with a few walnut-trees intermixed, forming the closest shade above my head.
the ground was rocky, uneven, overgrown with bushes and clumps of young saplings, and traversed only by cattle-paths.
the track, which i chanced to follow, led me to a crystal spring, with a border of grass, as freshly green as on may morning, and overshadowed by the limb of a great oak.
one solitary sunbeam found its way down, and played like a goldfish in the water.
from my childhood, i have loved to gaze into a spring.
the water filled a circular basin, small but deep, and set round with stones, some of which were covered with slimy moss, the others naked, and of variegated hue, reddish, white, and brown.
the bottom was covered with coarse sand, which sparkled in the lonely sunbeam, and seemed to illuminate the spring with an unborrowed light.
in one spot, the gush of the water violently agitated the sand, but without obscuring the fountain, or breaking the glassiness of its surface.
it appeared as if some living creature were about to emerge -- the naiad of the spring, perhaps -- in the shape of a beautiful young woman, with a gown of filmy water-moss, a belt of rainbow-drops, and a cold, pure, passionless countenance.
how would the beholder shiver, pleasantly, yet fearfully, to see her sitting on one of the stones, paddling her white feet in the ripples, and throwing up water, to sparkle in the sun!
wherever she laid her hands on grass and flowers, they would immediately be moist, as with morning dew.
then would she set about her labors, like a careful housewife, to clear the fountain of withered leaves, and bits of slimy wood, and old acorns from the oaks above, and grains of corn left by cattle in drinking, till the bright sand, in the bright water, were like a treasury of diamonds.
but, should the intruder approach too near, he would find only the drops of a summer shower glistening about the spot where he had seen her.
reclining on the border of grass, where the dewy goddess should have been, i bent forward, and a pair of eyes met mine within the watery mirror.
they were the reflection of my own.
i looked again, and lo!
another face, deeper in the fountain than my own image, more distinct in all the features, yet faint as thought.
the vision had the aspect of a fair young girl, with locks of paly gold.
a mirthful expression laughed in the eyes and dimpled over the whole shadowy countenance, till it seemed just what a fountain would be, if, while dancing merrily into the sunshine, it should assume the shape of woman.
through the dim rosiness of the cheeks, i could see the brown leaves, the slimy twigs, the acorns, and the sparkling sand.
the solitary sunbeam was diffused among the golden hair, which melted into its faint brightness, and became a glory round that head so beautiful!
my description can give no idea how suddenly the fountain was thus tenanted, and how soon it was left desolate.
i breathed; and there was the face!
i held my breath; and it was gone!
had it passed away, or faded into nothing?
i doubted whether it had ever been.
my sweet readers, what a dreamy and delicious hour did i spend, where that vision found and left me!
for a long time i sat perfectly still, waiting till it should reappear, and fearful that the slightest motion, or even the flutter of my breath, might frighten it away.
thus have i often started from a pleasant dream, and then kept quiet, in hopes to wile it back.
deep were my musings, as to the race and attributes of that ethereal being.
had i created her?
was she the daughter of my fancy, akin to those strange shapes which peep under the lids of children's eyes?
and did her beauty gladden me, for that one moment, and then die?
or was she a water-nymph within the fountain, or fairy, or woodland goddess peeping over my shoulder, or the ghost of some forsaken maid, who had drowned herself for love?
or, in good truth, had a lovely girl, with a warm heart, and lips that would bear pressure, stolen softly behind me, and thrown her image into the spring?
i watched and waited, but no vision came again.
i departed, but with a spell upon me, which drew me back, that same afternoon, to the haunted spring.
there was the water gushing, the sand sparkling, and the sunbeam glimmering.
there the vision was not, but only a great frog, the hermit of that solitude, who immediately withdrew his speckled snout and made himself invisible, all except a pair of long legs, beneath a stone.
methought he had a devilish look!
i could have slain him!
thus did the vision leave me; and many a doleful day succeeded to the parting moment.
by the spring, and in the wood, and on the hill, and through the village; at dewy sunrise, burning noon, and at that magic hour of sunset, when she had vanished from my sight, i sought her, but in vain.
weeks came and went, months rolled away, and she appeared not in them.
i imparted my mystery to none, but wandered to and fro, or sat in solitude, like one that had caught a glimpse of heaven, and could take no more joy on earth.
i withdrew into an inner world, where my thoughts lived and breathed, and the vision in the midst of them.
without intending it, i became at once the author and hero of a romance, conjuring up rivals, imagining events, the actions of others and my own, and experiencing every change of passion, till jealousy and despair had their end in bliss.
o, had i the burning fancy of my early youth, with manhood's colder gift, the power of expression, your hearts, sweet ladies, should flutter at my tale!
in the middle of january, i was summoned home.
the day before my departure, visiting the spots which had been hallowed by the vision, i found that the spring had a frozen bosom, and nothing but the snow and a glare of winter sunshine, on the hill of the rainbow.
""let me hope," thought i, "or my heart will be as icy as the fountain, and the whole world as desolate as this snowy hill."
most of the day was spent in preparing for the journey, which was to commence at four o'clock the next morning.
about an hour after supper, when all was in readiness, i descended from my chamber to the sitting-room, to take leave of the old clergyman and his family, with whom i had been an inmate.
a gust of wind blew out my lamp as i passed through the entry.
according to their invariable custom, so pleasant a one when the fire blazes cheerfully, the family were sitting in the parlor, with no other light than what came from the hearth.
as the good clergyman's scanty stipend compelled him to use all sorts of economy, the foundation of his fires was always a large heap of tan, or ground bark, which would smoulder away, from morning till night, with a dull warmth and no flame.
this evening the heap of tan was newly put on, and surmounted with three sticks of red-oak, full of moisture, and a few pieces of dry pine, that had not yet kindled.
there was no light, except the little that came sullenly from two half-burned brands, without even glimmering on the andirons.
but i knew the position of the old minister's arm-chair, and also where his wife sat, with her knitting-work, and how to avoid his two daughters, one a stout country lass, and the other a consumptive girl.
groping through the gloom, i found my own place next to that of the son, a learned collegian, who had come home to keep school in the village during the winter vacation.
i noticed that there was less room than usual, to-night, between the collegian's chair and mine.
as people are always taciturn in the dark, not a word was said for some time after my entrance.
nothing broke the stillness but the regular click of the matron's knitting-needles.
at times, the fire threw out a brief and dusky gleam, which twinkled on the old man's glasses, and hovered doubtfully round our circle, but was far too faint to portray the individuals who composed it.
were we not like ghosts?
dreamy as the scene was, might it not be a type of the mode in which departed people, who had known and loved each other here, would hold communion in eternity?
we were aware of each other's presence, not by sight, nor sound, nor touch, but by an inward consciousness.
would it not be so among the dead?
the silence was interrupted by the consumptive daughter, addressing a remark to some one in the circle, whom she called rachel.
her tremulous and decayed accents were answered by a single word, but in a voice that made me start, and bend towards the spot whence it had proceeded.
had i ever heard that sweet, low tone?
if not, why did it rouse up so many old recollections, or mockeries of such, the shadows of things familiar, yet unknown, and fill my mind with confused images of her features who had spoken, though buried in the gloom of the parlor?
whom had my heart recognized, that it throbbed so?
i listened, to catch her gentle breathing, and strove, by the intensity of my gaze, to picture forth a shape where none was visible.
suddenly, the dry pine caught; the fire blazed up with a ruddy glow; and where the darkness had been, there was she, -- the vision of the fountain!
a spirit of radiance only, she had vanished with the rainbow, and appeared again in the firelight, perhaps to flicker with the blaze, and be gone.
yet, her cheek was rosy and life-like, and her features, in the bright warmth of the room, were even sweeter and tenderer than my recollection of them.
she knew me!
the mirthful expression that had laughed in her eyes and dimpled over her countenance, when i beheld her faint beauty in the fountain, was laughing and dimpling there now.
one moment our glance mingled, -- the next, down rolled the heap of tan upon the kindled wood, -- and darkness snatched away that daughter of the light, and gave her back to me no more!
fair ladies, there is nothing more to tell.
must the simple mystery be revealed, then, that rachel was the daughter of the village squire, and had left home for a boarding-school, the morning after i arrived, and returned the day before my departure?
if i transformed her to an angel, it is what every youthful lover does for his mistress.
therein consists the essence of my story.
_book_title_: thornton_waldo_burgess___happy_jack.txt.out
chapter i happy jack drops a nut save a little every day, and for the future put away.
happy jack.
happy jack squirrel sat on the tip of one of the highest branches of a big hickory tree.
happy jack was up very early that morning.
in fact, jolly, round, red mr. sun was still in his bed behind the purple hills when happy jack hopped briskly out of bed.
he washed himself thoroughly and was ready for business by the time mr. sun began his climb up in the blue, blue sky.
you see, happy jack had found that big hickory tree just loaded with nuts all ripe and ready to gather.
he was quite sure that no one else had found that special tree, and he wanted to get all the nuts before any one else found out about them.
so he was all ready and off he raced to the big tree just as soon as it was light enough to see.
""the nuts that grow in the hickory tree -- they're all for me!
they're all for me!"
happy jack was humming that little song as he rested for a few minutes "way up in the top of the tree and wondered if his storehouse would hold all these big, fat nuts.
just then he heard a great scolding a little way over in the green forest.
happy jack stopped humming and listened.
he knew that voice.
it was his cousin's voice -- the voice of chatterer the red squirrel.
happy jack frowned.
""i hope he wo n't come over this way," muttered happy jack.
he does not love his cousin chatterer anyway, and then there was the big tree full of hickory nuts!
he did n't want chatterer to find that.
i am afraid that happy jack was selfish.
there were more nuts than he could possibly eat in one winter, and yet he was n't willing that his cousin, chatterer the red squirrel, should have a single one.
now chatterer is short-tempered and a great scold.
some one or something had upset him this morning, and he was scolding as fast as his tongue could go, as he came running right towards the tree in which happy jack was sitting.
happy jack sat perfectly still and watched.
he did n't move so much as the tip of his big gray tail.
would chatterer go past and not see that big tree full of nuts?
it looked very much as if he would, for he was so busy scolding that he was n't paying much attention to other things.
happy jack smiled as chatterer came running under the tree without once looking up.
he was so tickled that he started to hug himself and did n't remember that he was holding a big, fat nut in his hands.
of course he dropped it.
where do you think it went?
well, sir, it fell straight down, from the top of that tall tree, and it landed right on the head of chatterer the red squirrel!
""my stars!"
cried chatterer, stopping his scolding and his running together, and rubbing his head where the nut had hit him.
then he looked up to see where it had come from.
of course, he looked straight up at happy jack.
""you did that purposely!"
screamed chatterer, his short temper flaring up.
""i did n't!"
snapped happy jack.
""you did!"
""i did n't!"
oh, dear, oh, dear, such a sight!
two little squirrels, one in a gray suit and one in a red suit, contradicting each other and calling names!
it was such a sad, sad sight, for you know they were cousins.
chapter ii the quarrel it's up to you and up to me to see how thrifty we can be.
to do our bit like soldiers true it's up to me and up to you.
happy jack.
two angry little people were making a dreadful noise in the green forest.
it was a beautiful morning, a very beautiful fall morning, but all the beauty of it was being spoiled by the dreadful noise these two little people.
you see they were quarreling.
yes, sir, they were quarreling, and it was n't at all nice to see or nice to hear.
you know who they were.
one was happy jack squirrel, who wears a coat of gray, and the other was chatterer the red squirrel, who always wears a red coat with vest of white.
when happy jack had dropped that nut from the tiptop of the tall hickory tree and it had landed right on top of chatterer's head it really had been an accident.
all the time happy jack had been sitting as still as still could be, hoping that his cousin chatterer would pass by without looking up and so seeing the big fat nuts in the top of that tree.
you see happy jack was greedy and wanted all of them himself.
now chatterer the red squirrel has a sharp temper, and also he has sharp eyes.
all the time he was scolding happy jack and calling him names chatterer's bright eyes were taking note of all those big, fat hickory-nuts and his mouth began to water.
without wasting any more time he started up the tree to get some.
happy jack grew very angry, very angry indeed.
he hurried down to meet chatterer the red squirrel and to prevent him climbing the tree.
""you keep out of this tree; it's mine!"
he shrieked.
""no such thing!
you do n't own the tree and i've got just as much right here as you have!"
screamed chatterer, dodging around to the other side of the tree."
't is, too, mine!
i found it first!"
shouted happy jack.
""you're a thief, so there!"
""i'm not!"
""you are!"
""you're a pig, happy jack!
you're just a great big pig!"
""i'm not a pig!
i found these nuts first and i tell you they're mine!"
shrieked happy jack, so angry that every time he spoke he jerked his tail.
and all the time he was chasing round and round the trunk of the tree trying to prevent chatterer getting up.
now happy jack is ever so much bigger than his cousin chatterer but he is n't as spry.
so in spite of him chatterer got past, and like a little red flash was up in the top of the tree where the big, fat nuts were.
but he did n't have time to pick even one, for after him came happy jack so angry that chatterer knew that he would fare badly if happy jack should catch him.
round and round, over and across, this way and that way, in the top of the tall hickory tree raced chatterer the red squirrel with his cousin, happy jack the gray squirrel, right at his heels, and calling him everything bad to be thought of.
yes, indeed it was truly dreadful, and peter rabbit, who happened along just then, put his hands over his ears so as not to hear such a dreadful quarrel.
-lsb- illustration: peter rabbit, who happened along just then, put his hands over his ears. -rsb-
chapter iii striped chipmunk is kept very busy i prefer big acorns but i never refuse little ones.
they fit in between.
happy jack.
striped chipmunk was sitting just inside a hollow log, studying about how he could fill up his new storehouse for the winter.
striped chipmunk is very thrifty.
he likes to play, and he is one of the merriest of all the little people who live on the green meadows or in the green forest.
he lives right on the edge of both and knows everybody, and everybody knows him.
almost every morning the merry little breezes of old mother west wind hurry over to have a frolic with him the very first thing.
but though he dearly loves to play, he never lets play interfere with work.
whatever he does, be it play or work, he does with all his might.
""i love the sun; i love the rain; i love to work; i love to play.
whatever it may bring to me i love each minute of each day."
so said striped chipmunk, as he sat in the hollow log and studied how he could fill that splendid big new storehouse.
pretty soon he pricked up his funny little ears.
what was all that noise over in the green forest?
striped chipmunk peeped out of the hollow log.
over in the top of a tall hickory tree a terrible fuss was going on.
striped chipmunk listened.
he heard angry voices, such angry voices!
they were the voices of his big cousins, happy jack the gray squirrel and chatterer the red squirrel.
""dear me!
dear me!
how those two do quarrel!
i must go over and see what it is all about," thought striped chipmunk.
so, with a flirt of his funny, little tail, he scampered out of the hollow log and over to the tall hickory tree.
he knew all about that tree.
many, many times he had looked up at the big fat nuts in the top of it, watching them grow bigger and fatter, and hoping that when they grew ripe, old mother west wind would find time to shake them down to him.
you know striped chipmunk is not much of a climber, and so he can not go up and pick the nuts as do his big cousins, happy jack and chatterer.
when he reached the tall hickory tree, what do you think was happening?
why, those big, fat nuts were rattling down to the ground on every side, just as if old mother west wind was shaking the tree as hard as she could.
but old mother west wind was n't there at all.
no, sir, there was n't even one of the merry little breezes up in the tree-tops.
the big fat nuts were rattling down just on account of the dreadful quarrel of striped chipmunk's two foolish cousins, happy jack and chatterer.
it was all because happy jack was greedy.
chatterer had climbed the tree, and now happy jack, who is bigger but not so spry, was chasing chatterer round and round and over the tree-top, and both were so angry that they did n't once notice that they were knocking down the very nuts over which they were quarreling.
striped chipmunk did n't stop to listen to the quarrel.
no, sir-ee!
he stuffed a big fat nut in each pocket in his cheeks and scampered back to his splendid new storehouse as fast as his little legs would take him.
back and forth, back and forth, scampered striped chipmunk, and all the time he was laughing inside and hoping his big cousins would keep right on quarreling.
chapter iv happy jack and chatterer feel foolish if you get and spend a penny, then of course you have n't any.
be like me -- a happy jack -- and put it where you'll get it back.
happy jack.
happy jack and chatterer were out of breath.
happy jack was puffing and blowing, for he is big and fat, and it is not so easy for him to race about in the tree-tops as it is for his smaller, slim, nimble cousin, chatterer.
so happy jack was the first to stop.
he sat on a branch "way up in the top of the tall hickory tree and glared across at chatterer, who sat on a branch on the other side of the tall tree.
""could n't catch me, could you, smarty?"
taunted chatterer.
""you just wait until i do!
i'll make you sorry you ever came near my hickory tree," snapped happy jack.
""i'm waiting.
besides, it is n't your tree any more than it's mine," replied chatterer, and made a face at happy jack.
happy jack hopped up as if he meant to begin the chase again, but he had a pain in his side from running so hard and so long, and so he sat down again.
right down in his heart happy jack knew that chatterer was right, that the tree did n't belong to him any more than to his cousin.
but when he thought of all those big, fat nuts with which the tall hickory tree had been loaded, greedy thoughts chased out all thoughts of right and he said to himself again, as he had said when he first saw his cousin, that chatterer should n't have one of them.
he stopped scolding long enough to steal a look at them, and then -- what do you think happy jack did?
why, he gave such a jump of surprise that he nearly lost his balance.
not a nut was to be seen!
happy jack blinked.
then, he rubbed his eyes and looked again.
he could n't see a nut anywhere!
there were the husks in which the nuts had grown big and fat until they were ripe, but now every husk was empty.
chatterer saw the queer look on happy jack's face, and he looked too.
now chatterer the red squirrel had very quick wits, and he guessed right away what had happened.
he knew that while they had been quarreling and racing over the top of the tall hickory tree, they must have knocked down all the nuts, which were just ready to fall anyway.
like a little red flash, chatterer started down the tree.
then happy jack guessed too, and down he started as fast as he could go, crying, "stop, thief!"
all the way.
when he reached the ground, there was chatterer scurrying around and poking under the fallen leaves, but he had n't found a single nut.
happy jack could n't stop to quarrel any more, because you see he was afraid that chatterer would find the biggest and fattest nuts, so he began to scurry around and hunt too.
it was queer, very queer, how those nuts could have hidden so!
they hunted and hunted, but no nuts were to be found.
then they stopped and stared up at the top of the tall hickory tree.
not a nut could they see.
then they stared at each other, and gradually a foolish, a very foolish look crept over each face.
""where -- where do you suppose they have gone?"
asked happy jack in a queer-sounding voice.
just then they heard some one laughing fit to kill himself.
it was peter rabbit.
""did you take our hickory nuts?"
they both shouted angrily.
""no," replied peter, "no, i did n't take them, though they were not yours, anyway!"
and then he went off into another fit of laughter, for peter had seen striped chipmunk very hard at work taking away those very nuts while his two big cousins had been quarreling in the tree-top.
chapter v happy jack suspects striped chipmunk thrift is one test of true loyalty to your country.
happy jack.
happy jack did n't look happy a bit.
indeed, happy jack looked very unhappy.
you see, he looked just as he felt.
he had set his heart on having all the big, fat nuts that he had found in the top of that tall hickory tree, and now, instead of having all of them, he had n't any of them.
worse still, he knew right down in his heart that it was his own fault.
he had been too greedy.
but what had become of those nuts?
happy jack was studying about this as he sat with his back against a big chestnut tree.
he remembered how hard peter rabbit had laughed when happy jack and his cousin, chatterer the red squirrel, had been so surprised because they could not find the nuts they had knocked down.
peter had n't taken them, for peter has no use for them, but he must know what had become of them, for he was still laughing as he had gone off down the lone little path.
while he was thinking of all this, happy jack's bright eyes had been wide open, as they usually are, so that no danger should come near.
suddenly they saw something moving among the brown-and-yellow leaves on the ground.
happy jack looked sharply, and then a sudden thought popped into his head.
""hi, there, cousin chipmunk!"
he shouted.
""hi, there, your own self!"
replied striped chipmunk, for it was he.
""what are you doing down there?"
asked happy jack.
""looking for hickory nuts," replied striped chipmunk, and his eyes twinkled as he said it, for there was n't a hickory tree near.
happy jack looked hard at striped chipmunk, for that sudden thought which had popped into his head when he first saw striped chipmunk was growing into a strong, a very strong, suspicion that striped chipmunk knew something about those lost hickory nuts.
but striped chipmunk looked back at him so innocently that happy jack did n't know just what to think.
""have you begun to fill your storehouse for winter yet?"
inquired happy jack.
""of course i have.
i do n't mean to let jack frost catch me with an empty storehouse," replied striped chipmunk.
""when leaves turn yellow, brown, and red, and nuts come pitter, patter down; when days are short and swiftly sped, and autumn wears her colored gown, i'm up before old mr. sun his nightcap has a chance to doff, and have my day's work well begun when others kick their bedclothes off."
""what are you filling your storehouse with?"
asked happy jack, trying not to show too much interest.
""corn, nice ripe yellow corn, and seeds and acorns and chestnuts," answered striped chipmunk.
""and now i'm looking for some big, fat hickory nuts," he added, and his bright eyes twinkled.
""have you seen any, happy jack?"
happy jack said that he had n't seen any, and striped chipmunk remarked that he could n't waste any more time talking, and scurried away.
happy jack watched him go, a puzzled little frown puckering up his brows.
""i believe he knows something about those nuts.
i think i'll follow him and have a peep into his storehouse," he muttered.
chapter vi happy jack spies on striped chipmunk it's more important to mind your own affairs than to know what your neighbors are doing, but not nearly so interesting.
happy jack.
striped chipmunk was whisking about among the brown-and-yellow leaves that covered the ground on the edge of the green forest.
he is such a little fellow that he looked almost like a brown leaf himself, and when one of old mother west wind's merry little breezes whirled the brown leaves in a mad little dance around him, it was the hardest work in the world to see striped chipmunk at all.
anyway, happy jack squirrel found it so.
you see, happy jack was spying on striped chipmunk.
yes, sir, happy jack was spying.
spying, you know, is secretly watching other people and trying to find out what they are doing.
it is n't a nice thing to do, not a bit nice.
happy jack knew it, and all the time he was doing it, he was feeling very much ashamed of himself.
but he said to himself that he just had to know where striped chipmunk's storehouse was, because he just had to peep inside and find out if it held any of the big, fat hickory nuts that had disappeared from under the tall hickory tree while he was quarreling up in the top of it with his cousin, chatterer the red squirrel.
but spying on striped chipmunk is n't the easiest thing in the world.
happy jack was finding it the hardest work he had ever undertaken.
striped chipmunk is so spry, and whisks about so, that you need eyes all around your head to keep track of him.
happy jack found that his two eyes, bright and quick as they are, could n't keep that little elf of a cousin of his always in sight.
every few minutes he would disappear and then bob up again in the most unexpected place and most provoking way.
""now i'm here, and now i'm there!
now i am not anywhere!
watch me now, for here i go out of sight!
i told you so!"
with the last words, striped chipmunk was nowhere to be seen.
it seemed as if the earth must have opened and swallowed him.
but it had n't, for two minutes later happy jack saw him flirting his funny little tail in the sauciest way as he scampered along an old log.
happy jack began to suspect that striped chipmunk was just having fun with him.
what else could he mean by saying such things?
and yet happy jack was sure that striped chipmunk had n't seen him, for, all the time he was watching, happy jack had taken the greatest care to keep hidden himself.
no, it could n't be, it just could n't be that striped chipmunk knew that he was anywhere about.
he would just be patient a little longer, and he would surely see that smart little cousin of his go to his storehouse.
so happy jack waited and watched.
chapter vii striped chipmunk has fun with happy jack thrift is the meat in the nut of success.
happy jack.
striped chipmunk would shout in his shrillest voice: "hipperty, hopperty, one, two, three!
what do you think becomes of me?"
then he would vanish from sight all in the wink of an eye.
you could n't tell where he went to.
at least happy jack could n't, and his eyes are sharper than yours or mine.
happy jack was spying, you remember.
he was watching striped chipmunk without letting striped chipmunk know it.
at least he thought he was.
but really he was n't.
those sharp twinkling eyes of striped chipmunk see everything.
you know, he is such a very little fellow that he has to be very wide-awake to keep out of danger.
and he is wide-awake.
oh, my, yes, indeed!
when he is awake, and that is every minute of the daytime, he is the most wide-awake little fellow you ever did see.
he had seen happy jack the very first thing, and he had guessed right away that happy jack was spying on him so as to find out if he had any of the big, fat hickory nuts.
now striped chipmunk had all of those fat hickory nuts safely hidden in his splendid new storehouse, but he did n't intend to let happy jack know it.
so he just pretended not to see happy jack, or to know that he was anywhere near, but acted as if he was just going about his own business.
really he was just having the best time ever fooling happy jack.
""the corn is ripe; the nuts do fall; acorns are sweet and plump.
i soon will have my storehouse full inside the hollow stump."
striped chipmunk sang this just as if no one was anywhere near, and he was singing just for joy.
of course happy jack heard it and he grinned.
""so your storehouse is in a hollow stump, my smart little cousin!"
said happy jack to himself.
""if that's the case, i'll soon find it."
striped chipmunk scurried along, and now he took pains to always keep in sight.
happy jack followed, hiding behind the trees.
pretty soon striped chipmunk picked up a plump acorn and put it in the pocket of his right cheek.
then he picked up another and put that in the pocket in his left cheek.
then he crowded another into each; and his face was swelled so that you would hardly have guessed that it was striped chipmunk if you had chanced to meet him.
my, my, he was a funny sight!
happy jack grinned again as he watched, partly because striped chipmunk looked so funny, and partly because he knew that if striped chipmunk was going to eat the acorns right away, he would n't stuff them into the pockets in his cheeks.
but he had done this very thing, and so he must be going to take them to his storehouse.
off scampered striped chipmunk, and after him stole happy jack, his eyes shining with excitement.
pretty soon he saw an old stump which looked as if it must be hollow.
happy jack grinned more than ever as he carefully hid himself and watched.
striped chipmunk scrambled up on the old stump, looked this way and that way, as if to be sure that no one was watching him, then with a flirt of his funny little tail he darted into a little round doorway.
he was gone a long time, but by and by out he popped, looked this way and that way, and then scampered off in the direction from which he had come.
happy jack did n't try to follow him.
he waited until he was sure that striped chipmunk was out of sight and hearing, and then he walked over to the old stump.
""it's his storehouse fast enough," said happy jack.
chapter viii happy jack turns burglar as trees from little acorns, so great sums from little pennies grow.
happy jack.
happy jack squirrel stood in front of the old stump into which he had seen striped chipmunk go with the pockets in his cheeks full of acorns, and out of which he had come with the pockets of his cheeks quite empty.
""it certainly is his storehouse, and now i'll find out if he is the one who got all those big, fat hickory nuts," muttered happy jack.
first he looked this way, and then he looked that way, to be sure that no one saw him, for what he was planning to do was a very dreadful thing, and he knew it.
happy jack was going to turn burglar.
a burglar, you know, is one who breaks into another's house or barn to steal, which is a very, very dreadful thing to do.
yet this is just what happy jack squirrel was planning to do.
he was going to get into that old stump, and if those big, fat hickory nuts were there, as he was sure they were, he was going to take them.
he tried very hard to make himself believe that it would n't be stealing.
he had watched those nuts in the top of the tall hickory tree so long that he had grown to think that they belonged to him.
of course they did n't, but he had made himself think they did.
happy jack walked all around the old stump, and then he climbed up on top of it.
there was only one doorway, and that was the little round hole through which striped chipmunk had entered and then come out.
it was too small for happy jack to even get his head through, though his cousin, chatterer the red squirrel, who is much smaller, could have slipped in easily.
happy jack sniffed and sniffed.
he could smell nuts and corn and other good things.
my, how good they did smell!
his eyes shone greedily.
happy jack took one more hasty look around to see that no one was watching, then with his long sharp teeth he began to make the doorway larger.
the wood was tough, but happy jack worked with might and main, for he wanted to get those nuts and get away before striped chipmunk should return, or any one else should happen along and see him.
soon the hole was big enough for him to get his head inside.
it was a storehouse, sure enough.
happy jack worked harder than ever, and soon the hole was large enough for him to get wholly inside.
what a sight!
there was corn!
and there were chestnuts and acorns!
and there were a few hickory nuts, though these did not look so big and fat as the ones happy jack was looking for!
happy jack chuckled to himself, a wicked, greedy chuckle, as he looked.
and then something happened.
""oh!
oh!
stop it!
leave me alone!"
yelled happy jack.
chapter ix happy jack squirrel's sad mistake a squirrel always is thrifty.
be as wise as a squirrel.
happy jack.
""let me go!
let me go!"
yelled happy jack, as he backed out of the hollow stump faster than he had gone in, a great deal faster.
can you guess why?
i'll tell you.
it was because he was being pulled out.
yes, sir, happy jack squirrel was being pulled out by his big, bushy tail.
happy jack was more frightened than hurt.
to be sure, it is not at all comfortable to have one's tail pulled, but happy jack would n't have minded this so much had it not been so unexpected, or if he could have seen who was pulling it.
and then, right inside happy jack did n't feel a bit good.
why?
well, because he was doing a dreadful thing, and he knew that it was a dreadful thing.
he had broken into somebody's storehouse to steal.
he was sure that it was striped chipmunk's storehouse, and he would n't admit to himself that he was going to steal, actually steal.
but all the time, right down deep in his heart, he knew that if he took any of those hickory nuts it would be stealing.
but happy jack had been careless.
when he had made the doorway big enough for him to crawl inside, he had left his tail hanging outside.
some one had very, very softly stolen up and grabbed it and begun to pull.
it was so sudden and unexpected that happy jack yelled with fright.
when he could get his wits together, he thought of course striped chipmunk had come back and was pulling his tail.
when he thought that, he got over his fright right away, for striped chipmunk is such a little fellow that happy jack knew that he had nothing; to fear from him.
so as fast as he could, happy jack backed out of the hole and whirled around.
of course he expected to face a very angry little chipmunk.
but he did n't.
no, sir, he did n't.
instead, he looked right into the angry face of his other cousin, chatterer the red squirrel.
and chatterer was angry!
oh my, my, how angry chatterer was!
for a minute he could n't find his voice, because his anger fairly choked him.
and when he did, how his tongue did fly!
""you thief!
you robber!
what are you doing in my storehouse?"
he shrieked.
happy jack backed away hurriedly, for though he is much bigger than chatterer, he has a very wholesome respect for chatterer's sharp teeth, and when he is very angry, chatterer is a great fighter.
""i -- i did n't know it was your storehouse," said happy jack, backing away still further.
""it does n't make any difference if you did n't; you're a thief just the same!"
screamed chatterer and rushed at happy jack.
and what do you think happy jack did?
why, he just turned tail and ran, chatterer after him, crying "thief!
robber!
coward!"
at the top of his lungs, so that every one in the green forest could hear.
chapter x striped chipmunk's happy thought waste seems to me a dreadful sin; it works to lose and not to win.
thrift will win; it can not lose.
between them't is for you to choose.
happy jack.
striped chipmunk sat on a mossy old log, laughing until his sides ached.
""ha, ha, ha!
ho, ho, ho!
oh, dear!
oh, dear!
ho, ho, ho, ho, ho!"
laughed striped chipmunk, holding his sides.
over in the green forest he could still hear chatterer the red squirrel crying "thief!
robber!"
as he chased his big cousin, happy jack, and every time he heard it, striped chipmunk laughed harder.
you see, striped chipmunk had known all the time that happy jack was spying on him, and he had had no end of fun fooling happy jack by suddenly disappearing and then bobbing into view.
he had known that happy jack was following him so as to find out where his storehouse was.
then striped chipmunk had remembered the storehouse of chatterer the red squirrel.
he had filled the pockets in his cheeks with acorns and gone straight over to chatterer's storehouse and put them inside, knowing that happy jack would follow him and would think that that was his storehouse.
and that is just what happened.
then striped chipmunk had hidden himself where he could see all that happened.
he had seen happy jack look all around, to make sure that no one was near, and then tear open the little round doorway of chatterer's storehouse until it was big enough for him to squeeze through.
he had seen chatterer come up, fly into a rage, and pull happy jack out by the tail.
indeed, he had had to clap both hands over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.
then happy jack had turned tail and run away with chatterer after him, shouting "thief" and "robber" at the top of his voice, and this had tickled striped chipmunk still more, for he knew that chatterer himself is one of the greatest thieves in the green forest.
so he sat on the mossy old log and laughed and laughed and laughed.
finally striped chipmunk wiped the tears from his eyes and jumped up.
""my, my, this will never do!"
said he.
""idle hands and idle feet never filled a storehouse yet; but instead, so i've heard say, into mischief surely get."
""here it is almost thanksgiving and --" striped chipmunk stopped and scratched his head, while a funny little pleased look crept into his face.
""i wonder if happy jack and chatterer would come to a thanksgiving dinner," he muttered.
""i believe i'll ask them just for fun."
then striped chipmunk hurried home full of his new idea and chuckled as he planned his thanksgiving dinner.
of course he could n't have it at his own house.
that would n't do at all.
in the first place, the doorway would be altogether too small for happy jack.
anyway, his home was a secret, his very own secret, and he did n't propose to let happy jack and chatterer know where it was, even for a thanksgiving dinner.
then he thought of the big, smooth, mossy log he had been sitting on that very morning.
""the very place!"
cried striped chipmunk, and scurried away to find happy jack squirrel and chatterer the red squirrel to invite them to his thanksgiving dinner.
chapter xi striped chipmunk's thanksgiving dinner there's nothing quite so sweet in life as making up and ending strife.
happy jack.
striped chipmunk jumped out of bed very early thanksgiving morning.
it was going to be a very busy day.
he had invited happy jack the gray squirrel, and chatterer the red squirrel, to eat thanksgiving dinner with him, and each had promised to be there.
striped chipmunk chuckled as he thought how neither of his guests knew that the other was to be there.
he washed his face and hands, brushed his hair, and ate his breakfast.
then he scurried over to his splendid new storehouse, which no one knew of but himself, and stuffed the pockets in his cheeks with good things to eat.
when he could n't stuff another thing in, he scurried over to the nice, mossy log on the edge of the green forest, and there he emptied his pockets, for that was to be his dining table.
back and forth, back and forth between his secret storehouse and the smooth, mossy log hurried striped chipmunk.
he knew that happy jack and the chatterer have great appetites, and he wanted to be sure that there was plenty of good things to eat.
and as he scurried along, he sang a little song.
""thanksgiving comes but once a year, but when it comes it brings good cheer.
for in my storehouse on this day are piles of good things hid away.
each day i've worked from early morn to gather acorns, nuts, and corn, till now i've plenty and to spare without a worry or a care.
so light of heart the whole day long, i'll sing a glad thanksgiving song."
promptly at the dinner hour happy jack appeared coming from one direction, and chatterer the red squirrel coming from another direction.
they did n't see each other until just as they reached striped chipmunk's smooth, mossy log.
then they stopped and scowled.
striped chipmunk pretended not to notice anything wrong and bustled about, talking all the time as if his guests were the best of friends.
on the smooth, mossy log was a great pile of shining yellow corn.
there was another pile of plump ripe acorns, and three little piles of dainty looking brown seeds.
but the thing that happy jack could n't keep his eyes off was right in the middle.
it was a huge pile of big, fat hickory nuts.
now who could remain ill-tempered and cross with such a lot of goodies spread before him?
certainly not happy jack or his cousin, chatterer the red squirrel.
they just had to smile in spite of themselves, and when striped chipmunk urged them to sit down and help themselves, they did.
in three minutes they were so busy eating that they had forgotten all about their quarrel and were laughing and chatting like the best of friends.
""it's quite a family party, is n't it?"
said striped chipmunk, for you know they are all cousins.
whitefoot the wood mouse happened along, and striped chipmunk insisted that he should join the party.
later sammy jay came along, and nothing would excuse him from sharing in the feast, too.
when everybody had eaten and eaten until they could n't hold another thing, and it was time to think of going home, striped chipmunk insisted that happy jack and chatterer should divide between them the big, fat hickory nuts that were left, and they did without once quarreling about it.
""thanksgiving comes but once a year, and when it comes it brings good cheer," said striped chipmunk to himself as he watched his guests depart.
chapter xii happy jack does some thinking to call another a thief does n't make him one.
happy jack.
happy jack sat up in a chestnut tree, and his face was very sober.
the fact is, happy jack was doing some very hard thinking.
this is so very unusual for him that sammy jay stopped to ask if he was sick.
you see he is naturally a happy-go-lucky little scamp, and that is one reason that he is called happy jack.
but this morning he was thinking and thinking hard, so hard, in fact, that he almost lost his temper when sammy jay interrupted his thoughts with such a foolish question.
what was he thinking about?
can you not guess?
why, he was thinking about those big, fat hickory nuts that striped chipmunk had had for his thanksgiving dinner, and how striped chipmunk had given him some of them to bring home.
he was very sure that they were the very same nuts that he had watched grow big and fat in the top of the tall hickory tree and then had knocked down while chasing his cousin, chatterer.
when they had reached the ground and found the nuts gone, happy jack had at once suspected that striped chipmunk had taken them, and now he felt sure about it.
but all at once things looked very different to happy jack, and the more he thought about how he had acted, the more ashamed of himself he grew.
""there certainly must have been enough of those nuts for all of us, and if i had n't been so greedy we might all have had a share.
as it is, i've got only those that striped chipmunk gave me, and chatterer has only those that striped chipmunk gave him.
it must be that that sharp little cousin of mine with the striped coat has got the rest, and i guess he deserves them."
then all of a sudden happy jack realized how striped chipmunk had fooled him into thinking that the storehouse of chatterer was his storehouse, and happy jack began to laugh.
the more he thought of it, the harder he laughed.
""the joke certainly is on me!"
he exclaimed.
""the joke certainly is on me, and it served me right.
hereafter i'll mind my own business.
if i had spent half as much time looking for hickory nuts as i did looking for striped chipmunk's storehouse, i would be ready for winter now, and chatterer could n't call me a thief."
then he laughed again as he thought how striped chipmunk must have enjoyed seeing him pulled out of chatterer's storehouse by the tail.
""what's the joke?"
asked bobby coon, who happened along just then.
""i've just learned a lesson," replied happy jack.
""what is it?"
asked bobby.
happy jack grinned as he answered: "i've found that greed will never, never pay.
it makes one cross and ugly, and it drives one's friends away.
and being always selfish and always wanting more, one's very apt to lose the things that one has had before."
""pooh!"
said bobby coon.
""have you just found that out?
i learned that a long time ago."
chapter xiii happy jack gets a warning it matters not how smart you are, so be it you are heedless too.
it is n't what you know that counts so much as what it is to you.
happy jack.
a fat gray squirrel is very tempting to a number of people in the green forest, particularly in winter, when getting a living is hard work.
almost every day reddy and granny fox stole softly through that part of the green forest where happy jack squirrel lived, hoping to surprise and catch him on the ground.
but they never did.
roughleg the hawk and hooty the owl wasted a great deal of time, sitting around near happy jack's home, hoping to catch him when he was not watching, but they never did.
happy jack knew all about these big hungry neighbors, and he was always on the watch for them.
he knew their ways and just where they would be likely to hide.
he took the greatest care to look into every such hiding place near at hand before he ventured down out of the trees, and because these hungry neighbors are so big, he never had any trouble in seeing them if they happened to be around.
so happy jack did n't do much worrying about them.
the fact is, happy jack was n't afraid of them at all, for the simple reason that he knew they could n't follow him into his hollow tree.
having nuts stored away, he would have been perfectly happy but for one thing.
yes, sir, there was only one thing to spoil happy jack's complete happiness, and that was the fear that shadow the weasel might take it into his head to pay him a visit.
shadow can go through a smaller hole than happy jack can, and so happy jack knew that while he was wholly safe from his other enemies, he was n't safe at all from shadow the weasel.
and this worried him.
yes, sir, it worried happy jack.
he had n't seen or heard of shadow for a long time, but he had a feeling that he was likely to turn up almost any time, especially now that everything was covered with snow and ice, and food was scarce and hard to get.
he sometimes actually wished that he was n't as fat as he was.
then he would be less tempting to his hungry neighbors.
but no good comes of worrying.
no, sir, not a bit of good comes of worrying, and happy jack knows it.
""all i can do is to watch out and not be careless," said he, and dropped the shell of a nut on the head of reddy fox, who happened to be passing under the tree in which happy jack was sitting.
reddy looked up and showed his teeth angrily.
happy jack laughed and scampered away through the tree-tops to another part of the green forest where he had some very secret stores of nuts.
he was gone most of the day, and when he started back home he was in the best of spirits, for his stores had not been found by any one else.
he was in such good spirits that for once he quite forgot shadow the weasel.
he was just going to pop into his doorway without first looking inside, a very foolish thing to do, when he heard some one calling him.
he turned to see tommy tit the chickadee hurrying towards him, and it was very clear that tommy was greatly excited.
""hello, tommy tit!
what ails you?"
exclaimed happy jack.
""do n't go in there, happy jack!"
cried tommy tit.
""shadow the weasel is in there waiting for you!"
happy jack turned quite pale.
""are you sure?"
he gasped.
tommy tit nodded as if he would nod his head off.
""i saw him go in, and he has n't come out, for i've kept watch," said he.
""you better get away from here before he knows you are about."
that was good advice, but it was too late.
even as tommy tit spoke, a sharp face with red, angry eyes was thrust out of happy jack's doorway.
it was the face of shadow the weasel.
chapter xiv.
happy jack's run for life a coward he who runs away when he should stay and fight, but wise is he who knows when he should run with all his might.
happy jack.
it is n't cowardly to run away when it is quite useless to stay and fight.
so it was n't so cowardly of happy jack squirrel to turn tail and run the instant he caught sight of shadow the weasel.
no, sir, it was n't cowardly at all, although it might have looked so to you had you been there to see, for happy jack is bigger than shadow.
but when it comes to a fight, happy jack is no match at all for shadow the weasel, and he knows it.
shadow is too quick for him, and though happy jack were ever so brave, he would have no chance at all in a fight with shadow.
and so the very instant he saw the cruel face of shadow with its fierce red eyes glaring at him from his own doorway, happy jack turned tail and ran.
yes, sir, that is just what he did, and it was the wisest thing he could have done.
he hoped with a mighty hope that shadow would not follow him, but he hoped in vain.
shadow had made up his mind to dine on squirrel, and he did n't propose to see his dinner run away without trying to catch it.
so the instant happy jack started, shadow started after him, stopping only long enough to snarl an ugly threat at tommy tit the chickadee, because tommy had warned happy jack that shadow was waiting for him.
but tommy did n't mind that threat.
oh, my, no!
tommy did n't mind it at all.
he can fly, and so he had no fear of shadow the weasel.
but he was terribly afraid for happy jack.
he knew, just as happy jack knew, that there was n't a single place where happy jack could hide into which shadow could not follow him.
so tommy flitted from tree to tree behind happy jack, hoping that in some way he might be able to help him.
from tree to tree raced happy jack, making desperately long leaps.
shadow the weasel followed, and though he ran swiftly, he did n't appear to be hurrying, and he took no chances on those long leaps.
if the leap was too long to take safely, shadow simply ran back down the tree, across to the next one and up that.
it did n't worry him at all that happy jack was so far ahead that he was out of sight.
he knew that he could trust his nose to follow the scent of happy jack.
in fact, it rather pleased him to have happy jack race away in such fright, for in that way he would soon tire himself out.
and this is just what happy jack did do.
he ran and jumped and jumped and ran as fast as he could until he was so out of breath that he just had to stop for a rest.
but he could n't rest much.
he was too terribly frightened.
he shivered and shook while he got his breath, and never for a second did he take his eyes from his back trail.
presently he saw a slim white form darting along the snow straight towards the tree in which he was resting.
once more happy jack ran, and somehow he felt terribly helpless and hopeless.
he had to rest oftener now, and each rest was shorter than the one before, because, you know, shadow was a less and less distance behind.
poor happy jack!
he had tried every trick he knew, and not one of them had fooled shadow the weasel.
now he was too tired to run much farther.
the last little bit of hope left happy jack's heart.
he blinked his eyes very fast to keep back the tears, as he thought that this was probably the last time he would ever look at the beautiful green forest he loved so.
then he gritted his teeth and made up his mind that anyway he would fight his best, even if it was hopeless.
it was just at that very minute that he heard the voice of tommy tit the chickadee calling to him in great excitement, and somehow, he did n't know why, a wee bit of hope sprang up in his heart.
chapter xv who saved happy jack squirrel?
blessed he whose words of cheer help put hope in place of fear.
happy jack.
it never has been fully decided among the little people of the green forest and the green meadows just who really did save happy jack squirrel.
some say that tommy tit the chickadee deserves all the credit, and some say that -- but wait.
let me tell you just what happened, and then perhaps you can decide for yourself who saved happy jack.
you see, it was this way: happy jack had run and run and run and tried every trick he knew to get away from shadow the weasel, but all in vain.
at last he was so out of breath and so tired that he felt that he could n't run any more.
he had just made up his mind that he would wait right where he was for shadow and then put up the best fight he could, even if it was hopeless, when he heard tommy tit calling to him in great excitement.
-lsb- illustration: happy jack tried every trick he knew to get away from shadow the weasel. -rsb-
""dee, dee, chickadee!
come here quick, happy jack!
come here quick!"
called tommy tit.
a wee bit of hope sprang up in happy jack's heart.
he could n't imagine what possible help tommy tit could be, but he would go see.
so taking a long breath he started on as fast as he could in the direction of tommy's voice.
he could n't run very fast, because, you know, he was so tired, but he did the best he could.
presently he saw tommy just ahead of him flying about in great excitement.
""dee, dee, dee, there he is!
go to him!
go to him, happy jack!
hurry!
hurry!
dee, dee, dee, oh, do hurry!"
cried tommy tit.
for just a second happy jack did n't know what he meant.
then he saw farmer brown's boy watching tommy tit as if he did n't know what to make of the little fellow's excitement.
""go to him!
go to him!"
called tommy.
""he wo n't hurt you, and he wo n't let shadow the weasel hurt you!
see me!
see me!
dee, dee, see me!"
and with that tommy tit flew right down on farmer brown's boy's hand, for you know he and farmer brown's boy are great friends.
happy jack hesitated.
he knew that farmer brown's boy had tried to make friends with him, and every day since the ice and snow had come had put out nuts and corn for him, but he could n't quite forget the old fear of him.
he could n't quite trust him.
so now he hesitated.
then he looked back.
shadow the weasel was only a few jumps behind him, and his little eyes glowed red and savage.
farmer brown's boy might not hurt him, but shadow certainly would.
shadow would kill him.
happy jack made up his mind, and with a little gasp raced madly across the snow straight to farmer brown's boy and ran right up to his shoulder.
shadow the weasel had been so intent on catching happy jack that he had n't noticed farmer brown's boy at all.
now he saw him for the first time and stopped short, snarling and spitting.
whatever else you may say of shadow the weasel, he is no coward.
for a minute it looked as if he really meant to follow happy jack and get him in spite of farmer brown's boy, and happy jack trembled as he looked down into those angry little red eyes.
but shadow knows when he is well off, and now he knew better than to come a step nearer.
so he snarled and spit, and then, as farmer brown's boy took a step forward, leaped to one side and disappeared in the old stone wall.
very gently and softly farmer brown's boy talked to happy jack as he took him to the nearest tree.
then, when happy jack was safely up in the tree, he went over to the stone wall and tried to drive shadow the weasel out.
he pulled over the stones until at last shadow jumped out, and then farmer brown's boy chased him clear into the green forest.
""dee, dee, dee, what did i tell you?"
cried tommy tit happily, as he flew over to where happy jack was sitting.
now who really saved happy jack -- tommy tit or farmer brown's boy?
chapter xvi happy jack misses farmer brown's boy one and one are always two, and two and two are four.
and just as true it is you'll find that love and love make more.
happy jack.
go ask happy jack squirrel.
he knows.
he knows because he has proved it.
it began when farmer brown's boy saved him from shadow the weasel.
perhaps i should say when farmer brown's boy and tommy tit saved him, for if it had n't been for tommy, it never would have entered happy jack's head to run to farmer brown's boy.
after that, of course, happy jack and farmer brown's boy became great friends.
farmer brown's boy came over to the green forest every day to see happy jack, and always he had the most delicious nuts in his pockets.
at first happy jack had been a wee bit shy.
he could n't quite get over that old fear he had had so long.
then he would remember how farmer brown's boy had saved him, and that would make him ashamed, and he would walk right up and take the nuts.
farmer brown's boy would talk to him in the nicest way and tell him that he loved him, and that there was n't the least thing in the world to be afraid of.
pretty soon happy jack began to love farmer brown's boy a little.
he could n't help it.
he just had to love any one who was so kind and gentle to him.
now as soon as he began to love a little, and felt sure in his own heart that farmer brown's boy loved him a little, he found that love and love make more love, and it was n't any time at all before he had become very fond of farmer brown's boy, so fond of him that he was almost jealous of tommy tit, who had been a friend of farmer brown's boy for a long time.
it got so that happy jack looked forward each day to the visit of farmer brown's boy, and as soon as he heard his whistle, he would hasten to meet him.
some folks were unkind enough to say that it was just because of the nuts and corn he was sure to find in farmer brown's boy's pockets, but that was n't so at all.
at last there came a day when he missed that cheery whistle.
he waited and waited.
at last he went clear to the edge of the green forest, but there was no whistle and no sign of farmer brown's boy.
it was the same way the next day and the next.
happy jack forgot to frisk about the way he usually does.
he lost his appetite.
he just sat around and moped.
when tommy tit the chickadee came to call, as he did every day, happy jack found that tommy was anxious too.
tommy had been up to farmer brown's dooryard several times, and he had n't seen anything of farmer brown's boy.
""i think he must have gone away," said tommy.
""he would have come down here first and said good-by," replied happy jack.
""you -- you do n't suppose something has happened to him, do you?"
asked tommy.
""i do n't know.
i do n't know what to think," replied happy jack, soberly.
""do you know, tommy, i've grown very fond of farmer brown's boy."
""of course.
dee, dee, dee, of course.
everybody who really knows him is fond of him.
i've said all along that he is the best friend we've got, but no one seemed to believe me.
i'm glad you've found it out for yourself.
i tell you what, i'll go up to his house and have another look around."
and without waiting for a reply, tommy was off as fast as his little wings could take him.
""i hope, i do hope, that nothing has happened to him," mumbled happy jack, as he pretended to hunt for buried nuts while he waited for tommy tit to come back, and by "him" he meant farmer brown's boy.
chapter xvii tommy tit brings news no one knows too much, but many know too little.
happy jack.
happy jack very plainly was not happy.
his name was the only happy thing about him.
he fussed about on the edge of the green forest.
he just could n't keep still.
when he thought anybody was looking, he pretended to hunt for some of the nuts he had buried in the fall, and dug holes down through the snow.
but as soon as he thought that no one was watching, he would scamper up a tree where he could look over to farmer brown's house and look and look.
it was very clear that happy jack was watching for some one and that he was anxious, very anxious, indeed.
it was getting late in the afternoon, and soon the black shadows would begin to creep out from the purple hills, behind which jolly, round, red mr. sun would go to bed.
it would be bedtime for happy jack then, for you know he goes to bed very early, just as soon as it begins to get dark.
the later it got, the more anxious and uneasy happy jack grew.
he had just made up his mind that in a few minutes he would have to give up and go to bed when there was a flit of tiny wings, and tommy tit the chickadee dropped into the tree beside him.
""did you find out anything?"
asked happy jack eagerly, before tommy had a chance to say a word.
-lsb- illustration: "did you find out anything?"
asked happy jack eagerly. -rsb-
tommy nodded.
""he's there!"
he panted, for he was quite out of breath from hurrying so.
""where?"
happy jack fairly shouted the question.
""over there in the house," replied tommy tit.
""then he has n't gone away!
it's just as i said, he has n't gone away!"
cried happy jack, and he was so relieved that he jumped up and down and as a result nearly tumbled out of the tree.
""no," replied tommy, "he has n't gone away, but i think there is something the matter with him."
happy jack grew very sober.
""what makes you think so?"
he demanded.
""if you'll give me time to get my breath, i'll tell you all about it," retorted tommy tit.
""all right, only please hurry," replied happy jack, and tried to look patient even if he was n't.
tommy tit smoothed out some rumpled feathers and was most provokingly slow about it.
""when i left here," he began at last, "i flew straight up to farmer brown's house, as i said i would.
i flew all around it, but all i saw was that horrid black pussy on the back doorsteps, and she looked at me so hungrily that she made me dreadfully uncomfortable.
i do n't see what farmer brown keeps her about for, anyway."
""never mind her; go on!"
interrupted happy jack.
""then i flew all around the barn, but i did n't see any one there but that ugly little upstart, bully the english sparrow, and he wanted to pick a fight with me right away."
tommy looked very indignant.
""never mind him, go on!"
cried happy jack impatiently.
""after that i flew back to the big maple tree close by the house," continued tommy.
""you know farmer brown's boy has kept a piece of suet tied in that tree all winter for me.
i was hungry, and i thought i would get a bite to eat, but there was n't any suet there.
that pig of a sammy jay had managed to get it untied and had carried it all away.
of course that made me angry, and twice as hungry as before.
i was trying to make up my mind what to do next when i happened to look over on the window sill, and what do you think i saw there?"
""what?"
demanded happy jack eagerly.
""a lot of cracked hickory nuts!"
declared tommy.
""i just knew that they were meant for me, and when i was sure that the way was clear, i flew over there.
they tasted so good that i almost forgot about farmer brown's boy, when i just happened to look in the window.
you know those windows are made of some queer stuff that looks like ice and is n't, and that you can see right through."
happy jack did n't know, for he never had been near enough to see, but he nodded, and tommy tit went on.
""there were many queer things inside, and i was wondering what they could be when all of a sudden i saw him.
he was lying down, and there was something the matter with him.
i tapped on the window to him and then i hurried back here."
chapter xviii happy jack decides to make a call you'll find when all is said and done two heads are better far than one.
happy jack.
happy jack squirrel had n't slept very well.
he had had bad dreams.
ever so many times in the night he had waked up, a very unusual thing for happy jack.
the fact is, he had something on his mind.
yes, sir, happy jack had something on his mind, and that something was farmer brown's boy.
he often had had farmer brown's boy on his mind before, but in a very different way.
then it had been in the days when farmer brown's boy hunted through the green forest and over the green meadows with his terrible gun.
then everybody had farmer brown's boy on their minds most of the time.
happy jack had hated him then, hated him because he had feared him.
you know fear almost always leads to hate.
but now it was different.
farmer brown's boy had put away his terrible gun.
happy jack no longer feared him.
love had taken the place of hate in his heart, for had not farmer brown's boy saved him from shadow the weasel, and brought him nuts and corn when food was scarce?
and now tommy tit had brought word that some thing was the matter with farmer brown's boy.
it was this that was on happy jack's mind and had given him such a bad night.
as soon as it was daylight, happy jack scrambled out of bed to look for tommy tit.
he did n't have long to wait, for tommy is quite as early a riser as happy jack.
""dee, dee, chickadee!
i hope you feel as well as me!"
sang tommy merrily, as he flitted over to where happy jack was looking for his breakfast.
the very sound of tommy's voice made happy jack feel better.
one must feel very badly indeed not to be a little more cheerful when tommy tit is about.
the fact is, tommy tit packs about so much good cheer in that small person of his, that no one can be downhearted when he is about.
""hello, tommy," said happy jack.
""if i could make other people feel as good as you do, do you know what i would do?"
""what?"
asked tommy.
""i'd go straight up to farmer brown's house and try to cheer up farmer brown's boy," replied happy jack.
""that's the very thing i have in mind," chuckled tommy.
""i've come over here to see if you wo n't come along with me.
i've been up to his house so often that he wo n't think half so much of a visit from me as he will from you.
will you do it?"
happy jack looked a little startled.
you see, he never had been over to farmer brown's house, and somehow he could n't get over the idea that it would be a very dangerous thing to do.
""i -- i -- do you really suppose i could?"
he asked.
""i'm sure of it," replied tommy tit.
""there's no one to be afraid of but black pussy and bowser the hound, and it's easy enough to keep out of their way.
you can hide in the old stone wall until the way is clear and then run across to the big maple tree close to the house.
then you can look right in and see farmer brown's boy, and he can look out and see you.
will you do it?"
happy jack thought very hard for a few minutes.
then he made up his mind.
""i'll do it!"
said he in a very decided tone of voice.
""let's start right away."
""good for you!
dee, dee, good for you!"
cried tommy tit, and started to lead the way.
chapter xix tommy tit and happy jack pay a visit as grows the mighty elm tree, from just a tiny seed, so often great things happen from just a kindly deed.
happy jack.
great things were happening to happy jack squirrel.
he was actually on his way to farmer brown's house, and he had a feeling that other things were likely to happen when he got there.
now you may not think that it was anything very great that happy jack should be on his way to farmer brown's house.
very likely you are saying, "pooh!
that's nothing!"
this may be true, and then again it may not.
suppose you do a little supposing.
suppose you had all your life been terribly afraid of a great giant fifty times bigger than you.
suppose that great giant had stopped hunting you and by little deeds of kindness had at last won your love.
suppose you learned that something was the matter with him, and you made up your mind to visit him at his great castle where there were other great giants whom you did not know.
would n't you think that great things were happening to you?
well, that is exactly the way it was with happy jack squirrel, as he and tommy tit the chickadee started to go over to farmer brown's house to look for farmer brown's boy.
tommy tit had been there often, so he did n't think anything about it, but happy jack never had been there, and if the truth were known, his heart was going pitapat, pitapat, with excitement and perhaps just a little fear.
through the old orchard they went, tommy tit flitting ahead and keeping a sharp watch for danger.
when they reached the old stone wall on the edge of farmer brown's dooryard, tommy told happy jack to hide there while he went to see if the way was clear.
he was back in a few minutes.
""dee, dee, everything is all right," said he.
""bowser the hound is eating; his breakfast out back where he ca n't see you at all, and black pussy is nowhere about.
all you have to do is to follow me over to that big tree close to the house, and i will show you where farmer brown's boy is."
""i -- i'm afraid," confessed happy jack.
""pooh!
there's nothing to be afraid of," asserted tommy tit in the most positive way.
""do n't be a coward.
remember how farmer brown's boy saved you from shadow the weasel.
come on!
dee, dee, dee, come on!"
with that tommy flew across to the tree close by the house.
happy jack scrambled up on the old stone wall and looked this way and looked that way.
he could n't see a thing to be afraid of.
he jumped down and ran a few steps.
then his heart failed, and he scampered back to the old stone wall in a panic.
after a few minutes he tried again, and once more a foolish fear sent him back.
the third time he gritted his teeth, said to himself over and over, "i will!
i will!
i will!"
and ran with all his might.
in no time at all he was across the dooryard and up in the big tree, his heart pounding with excitement.
""dee, dee, dee," called tommy tit.
happy jack looked over to the house, and there sat tommy on a window-sill, helping himself to the most delicious-looking cracked nuts.
the sight of them made happy jack's mouth water.
a long branch hung down over the window and almost touched the sill.
happy jack ventured half way and stopped.
somehow it seemed very dangerous to go so close to that window.
""come on!
come on!
what are you afraid of?"
called tommy.
something like shame that such a little fellow as tommy tit should dare to go where he did not, crept into happy jack's heart.
with a quick little run and jump he was on the sill, and a second later he was staring in at all the strange things inside.
at first he did n't see anything of farmer brown's boy, but in a few minutes he made him out.
he was lying down all covered over except his head.
there was something the matter with him.
happy jack did n't need to be told that, and a great pity filled his heart.
he wanted to do something for farmer brown's boy.
chapter xx what was the matter with farmer brown's boy?
he who climbs the highest has the farthest to fall, but often it is worth the risk.
happy jack.
all the way home from his visit to farmer brown's house happy jack squirrel puzzled and wondered over what he had seen.
he had peeped in at a window and seen farmer brown's boy lying all covered up, with only his head showing.
happy jack could n't see very well, but somehow that head did n't look just right.
one thing was sure, and that was there was something wrong with farmer brown's boy.
he never would have been lying still like that if there had n't been.
happy jack had been so troubled by what he saw that he had hardly tasted the nuts he had found on the window-sill.
""i am going to make him another call to-morrow," said he when he and tommy tit were once more back in the green forest.
""of course," replied tommy.
""i expected you would.
i will be around for you at the same time.
you're not afraid any more to go up there, are you?"
""no-o," replied happy jack, slowly.
the truth is, he was still a little afraid.
it seemed to him a terribly venturesome thing to cross that open dooryard, but having done it once in safety, he knew that it would be easier the next time.
it was.
the next morning he and tommy tit went just as before, and this time happy jack scampered across the dooryard the very first time he tried.
they found things just as they had been the day before.
they saw farmer brown's boy, but he did n't see them.
tommy tit was just going to tap on the window to let him know they were there, when a door inside opened, and in walked mrs. brown.
it frightened them so that tommy tit flew away without tasting a single nut, and happy jack nearly fell as he scrambled back into the tree close by the window.
you see, they never had made her acquaintance, and having her walk in so suddenly frightened them terribly.
they did n't stop to think that there was nothing to fear because there was the window between.
somehow they could n't understand that queer stuff that they could see through but which shut them out.
if they had seen mrs. brown go to the window and put more cracked nuts on the sill, perhaps they would have been less afraid.
but they had been too badly frightened to look back, and so they did n't know anything about that.
the next morning tommy tit was on hand as usual, but he found happy jack a little doubtful about paying another visit.
he was n't wholly over his scare of the day before.
it took him some time to make up his mind to go, but finally he did.
this time when they reached the tree close by the house, they found a great surprise awaiting them.
farmer brown's boy was sitting just inside the window, looking out.
at least, they thought it was farmer brown's boy, but when they got a little nearer, they grew doubtful.
it looked like farmer brown's boy, and yet it did n't.
his cheeks stuck way out just as striped chipmunk's do when he has them stuffed full of corn or nuts.
happy jack stared at him very hard.
""my goodness, i did n't know he carried his food that way!"
he exclaimed.
""i should think it would be dreadfully uncomfortable."
if farmer brown's boy could have heard that, he certainly would have tried to laugh, and if he had -- well, it was bad enough when he tried to smile at the sight of tommy tit and happy jack.
he did n't smile at all but made up an awful face instead and clapped both hands to his cheeks.
happy jack and tommy tit did n't know what to make of it, and it was some time before they made up their minds that it really was farmer brown's boy, and that they had nothing to fear.
but when they finally ventured on to the sill and, as they helped themselves to nuts, saw the smile in his eyes, though he did not smile with his mouth at all, they knew that it was he, and that he was glad that they had called.
then they were glad too.
but what was the matter with farmer brown's boy?
happy jack puzzled over it all the rest of the day, and then gave it up.
chapter xxi happy jack squirrel grows very bold when you find a friend in trouble pass along a word of cheer.
often it is very helpful just to feel a friend is near.
happy jack.
every day happy jack visited the window sill of farmer brown's house to call on farmer brown's boy, who was always waiting for him just inside the window.
in fact happy jack had got into the habit of getting his breakfast there, for always there were fat, delicious nuts on the window-sill, and it was much easier and more comfortable to breakfast there than to hunt up his own hidden supplies and perhaps have to dig down through the snow to get them.
most people are just like happy jack -- they do the easiest thing.
each day farmer brown's boy looked more and more like himself.
his cheeks stuck out less and less, and finally did not stick out at all.
and now he smiled at happy jack with his mouth as well as with his eyes.
you know when his cheeks had stuck out so, he could n't smile at all except with his eyes.
happy jack did n't know what had been the matter with farmer brown's boy, but whatever it was, he was better now, and that made happy jack feel better.
one morning he got a surprise.
when he ran out along the branch of the tree that led to the window-sill he suddenly discovered something wrong.
there were no nuts on the sill!
more than this there was something very suspicious looking about the window.
it did n't look just right.
the truth is it was partly open, but happy jack did n't understand this, not then, anyway.
he stopped short and scolded, a way he has when things do n't suit him.
farmer brown's boy came to the window and called to him.
then he thrust a hand out, and in it were some of the fattest nuts happy jack ever had seen.
his mouth watered right away.
there might be something wrong with the window, but certainly the sill was all right.
it would do no harm to go that far.
so happy jack nimbly jumped across to the window-sill.
farmer brown's boy's hand with the fat nuts was still there, and happy jack lost no time in getting one.
then he sat up on the sill to eat it.
my, but it was good!
it was just as good as it had looked.
happy jack's eyes twinkled as he ate.
when he had finished that nut, he wanted another.
but now farmer brown's boy had drawn his hand inside the window.
he was still holding it out with the nuts in it, but to get them happy jack must go inside, and he could n't get it out of his head that that was a very dangerous thing to do.
what if that window should be closed while he was in there?
then he would be a prisoner.
so he sat up and begged.
he knew that farmer brown's boy knew what he wanted.
but farmer brown's boy kept his hand just where it was.
""come on, you little rascal," said he.
""you ought to know me well enough by this time to know that i wo n't hurt you or let any harm come to you.
hurry up, because i ca n't stand here all day.
you see, i've just got over the mumps, and if i should catch cold i might be sick again.
come along now, and show how brave you are."
of course happy jack could n't understand what he said.
if he could have, he might have guessed that it was the mumps that had made farmer brown's boy look so like striped chipmunk when he has his cheeks stuffed with nuts.
but if he could n't understand what farmer brown's boy said, he had no difficulty in understanding that if he wanted those nuts he would have to go after them.
so at last he screwed up his courage and put his head inside.
nothing happened, so he went wholly in and sat on the inside sill.
then by reaching out as far as he could without tumbling off, he managed to get one of those nuts, and as soon as he had it, he dodged outside to eat it.
farmer brown's boy laughed, and putting the rest of the nuts outside, he closed the window.
happy jack ate his fill and then scampered back to the green forest.
he felt all puffed up with pride.
he felt that he had been very, very bold, and he was anxious to tell tommy tit the chickadee, who had not been with him that morning, how bold he had been.
""pooh, that's nothing!"
replied tommy, when he had heard about it.
""i've done that often."
chapter xxii happy jack dares tommy tit a wise philosopher is he who takes things as they chance to be, and in them sees that which is best while trying to forget the rest.
happy jack.
somehow happy jack's day had been spoiled.
he knew that he had no business to allow it to be spoiled, but it was, just the same.
you see, he had been all puffed up with pride because he thought himself a very bold fellow because he had really been inside farmer brown's house.
he could n't help feeling quite puffed up about it.
but when he told tommy tit the chickadee about it, tommy had said, "pooh!
i've done that often."
that was what had spoiled the day for happy jack.
he knew that if tommy tit said that he had done a thing, he had, for tommy always tells the truth and nothing but the truth.
so happy jack had n't been so dreadfully bold, after all, and had nothing to brag about.
it made him feel quite put out.
he actually tried to make himself feel that it was all the fault of tommy tit, and that he wanted to get even with him.
he thought about it all the rest of the day, and just before he fell asleep that night an idea came to him.
""i know what i'll do!
i'll dare tommy to go as far inside farmer brown's house as i do!"
he exclaimed, and went to sleep to dream that he was the boldest, bravest squirrel that ever lived.
the next morning when he reached the tree close by farmer brown's house, he found tommy tit already there, flitting about impatiently and calling his loudest, which was n't very loud, for you know tommy is a very little fellow, and his voice is not very loud.
but he was doing his best to call farmer brown's boy.
you see, there was n't a single nut on the window-sill, and the window was closed.
pretty soon farmer brown's boy came to the window and opened it.
but he did n't put out any nuts.
tommy tit at once flew over to the sill, and to show that he was just as bold, happy jack followed.
looking inside, they saw farmer brown's boy standing in the middle of the room, holding out a dish of nuts and smiling at them.
this was the chance happy jack wanted to try the plan he had thought of the night before.
""i dare you to go way in there and get a nut," said he to tommy tit.
he hoped that tommy would be afraid.
but tommy was n't anything of the kind.
""dee, dee, dee!
come on!"
he cried, and flitted over and helped himself to a cracked nut and was back with it before happy jack could make up his mind to jump down inside.
of course now that he had dared tommy tit, and tommy had taken the dare, he just had to do it too.
it looked a long way in to where farmer brown's boy was standing.
twice he started and turned back.
then he heard tommy tit chuckle.
that was too much.
he would n't be laughed at.
he just would n't.
he scampered across, grabbed a nut, and rushed back to the window-sill, where he ate the nut.
it was easier to go after the second nut, and when he went for the third, he had made up his mind that it was perfectly safe in there, and so he sat up on a chair and ate it.
presently he felt quite at home, and when he had eaten all the nuts he wanted, he ran all around the room, examining all the strange things there.
this was a little more than tommy tit could make up his mind to do.
he was n't afraid to fly in for a nut and then fly out again, but he could n't feel easy inside a house like that.
of course, this made happy jack feel good all over.
you see, he felt that now he really did have something to boast about.
no one else in all the green forest or on the green meadows could say that they had been all over farmer brown's boy's room as he had.
happy jack swelled himself out at the thought.
now everybody would say, "what a bold fellow!"
chapter xxiii sammy jay is quite upset i know of nothing sweeter than success to squirrel or to man.
happy jack.
very few people can be all puffed up with pride without showing it.
happy jack squirrel could n't.
just to have looked at him you would have known that he was feeling very, very good about something.
when he thought no one was looking, he would actually strut.
and it was all because he considered himself a very bold fellow.
that was a new feeling for happy jack.
he knew that all his neighbors considered him rather timid, and many a time he had envied, actually envied jimmy skunk and reddy fox and unc" billy possum and even sammy jay because they did such bold things and had dared to visit farmer brown's dooryard and henhouse in spite of bowser the hound.
but now he felt that he dared do a thing that not one of them dared do.
he dared go right into farmer brown's house and make himself quite at home in the room of farmer brown's boy.
he felt that he was a tremendously brave fellow.
you see, he quite forgot one thing.
he forgot that he had found out that love destroys fear, and that though it might look to others like a very bold thing to walk right into farmer brown's house, it really was n't bold at all, because all the time he knew that no harm would come to him.
it is never brave to do a thing that you are not afraid to do.
it had been brave of him to go in at that open window the first time, because then he had been afraid, but now he was n't afraid, and so it was no longer either brave or bold of him.
tommy tit the chickadee knew all this, and he used to chuckle to himself as he saw how proud of himself happy jack was, but he said nothing to any one about it.
of course, it was n't long before others began to notice happy jack's pride.
one of the first was sammy jay.
there is very little that escapes sammy jay's sharp eyes.
silently stealing through the green forest early one morning, he surprised happy jack strutting.
""huh," said he, "what are you feeling so big about?"
like a flash the thought came to happy jack that here was a chance to show what a bold fellow he had become.
""hello, sammy!"
he exclaimed.
""are you feeling very brave this morning?"
""me feeling brave?
what are you talking about?
if i was as timid as you are, i would n't ever talk about bravery to other people.
if there is anything you dare to do that i do n't, i've never heard of it," retorted sammy jay.
""come on!"
cried happy jack.
""i'm going to get my breakfast, and i dare you to follow me!"
sammy jay actually laughed right out.
""go ahead.
wherever you go, i'll go," he declared.
happy jack started right away for farmer brown's house, and sammy followed.
through the old orchard, across the dooryard and into the big maple tree happy jack led the way, and sammy followed, all the time wondering what was up.
he had been there many times.
in fact, he had had many a good meal of suet there during the cold weather, for farmer brown's boy had kept a big piece tied to a branch of the maple tree for those who were hungry.
sammy was a little surprised when he saw happy jack jump over on to the window-sill.
still, he had been on that window-sill more than once himself, when he had made sure that no one was near, and had helped himself to the cracked nuts he had found there.
""come on!"
called happy jack, his eyes twinkling.
sammy jay chuckled.
""he thinks i do n't dare go over there," he thought.
""well, i'll fool him."
with a hasty look to see that no danger was near, he spread his wings to follow happy jack on to the window-sill.
happy jack waited to make sure that he really was coming and then slipped in at the open window and scampered over to a table on the farther side of the room and helped himself from a dish of nuts there.
when sammy saw happy jack disappear inside he gave a little gasp.
when he looked inside and saw happy jack making himself quite at home, he gasped again.
and when he saw a door open and farmer brown's boy enter, and still happy jack did not run, he was too upset for words.
he did n't dare stay to see more, and for once in his life was quite speechless as he flew back to the green forest.
chapter xxiv a dream comes true what are all our dreams made up of that they often are so queer?
wishes, hopes, and fond desires all mixed up with foolish fears.
happy jack.
which is worse, to have a very beautiful dream never come true, or to have a bad dream really come true?
happy jack squirrel says the latter is worse, much worse.
dreams do come true once in a great while, you know.
one of happy jack's did.
it came true, and it made a great difference in happy jack's life.
you see, it was like this: happy jack had had so many things to think of that he had almost forgotten about shadow the weasel.
happy jack had n't seen or heard anything of him since farmer brown's boy had chased him into the green forest and so saved happy jack's life.
since then life had been too full of pleasant things to think of anything so unpleasant as shadow the weasel.
but one night happy jack had a bad dream.
yes, sir, it was a very bad dream.
he dreamed that once more shadow the weasel was after him, and this time there was no farmer brown's boy to run to for help.
shadow was right at his heels and in one more jump would have him.
happy jack opened his mouth to scream, and -- awoke.
he was all ashake with fright.
it was a great relief to find that it was only a dream, but even then he could n't get over it right away.
he was glad that it was almost morning, and just as soon as it was light enough to see, he crept out.
it was too early to go over to farmer brown's house; farmer brown's boy would n't be up yet.
so happy jack ran over to one of his favorite lookouts, a tall chestnut tree, and there, with his back against the trunk, high above the ground, he watched the green forest wake as the first sunbeams stole through it.
but all the time he kept thinking of that dreadful dream.
a little spot of black moving against the white snow caught his sharp eyes.
what was it?
he leaned forward and held his breath, as he tried to make sure.
ah, now he could see!
just ahead of that black thing was a long, slim fellow all in white, and that black spot was his tail.
if it had n't been for that, happy jack very likely would n't have seen him at all.
it was shadow the weasel!
he was running swiftly, first to one side and then to the other, with his nose to the snow.
he was hunting.
there was no doubt about that.
he was hunting for his breakfast.
happy jack's eyes grew wide with fear.
would shadow find his tracks?
it looked very much as if shadow was heading for happy jack's house, and happy jack was glad, very glad, that that bad dream had waked him and made him so uneasy that he had come out.
otherwise he might have been caught right in his own bed.
shadow was almost at happy jack's house when he stopped abruptly with his nose to the snow and sniffed eagerly.
then he turned, and with his nose to the snow, started straight toward the tree where happy jack was.
happy jack waited to see no more.
he knew now that shadow had found his trail and that it was to be a case of run for his life.
""my dream has come true!"
he sobbed as he ran.
""my dream has come true, and i do n't know what to do!"
but all the time he kept on running as fast as ever he could, which really was the only thing to do.
chapter xxv happy jack has a happy thought who runs when danger comes his way will live to run some other day.
happy jack.
frightened and breathless, running with all his might from shadow the weasel, happy jack squirrel was in despair.
he did n't know what to do or where to go.
the last time he had run from shadow he had run to farmer brown's boy, who had just happened to be near, and farmer brown's boy had chased shadow the weasel away.
but now it was too early in the morning for him to expect to meet farmer brown's boy.
in fact, jolly, round, red mr. sun had hardly kicked his bedclothes off yet, and happy jack was very sure that farmer brown's boy was still asleep.
now most of us are creatures of habit.
we do the thing that we have been in the habit of doing, and do it without thinking anything about it.
that is why good habits are such a blessing.
happy jack squirrel is just like the rest of us.
he has habits, both good and bad.
of late, he had been in the habit of getting his breakfast at farmer brown's house every morning, so now when he began to run from shadow the weasel he just naturally ran in the direction of farmer brown's house from force of habit.
in fact, he was halfway there before he realized in which direction he was running.
right then a thought came to him.
it gave him a wee bit of hope, and seemed to help him run just a little faster.
if the window of farmer brown's boy's room was open, he would run in there, and perhaps shadow the weasel would n't dare follow!
how he did hope that that window would be open!
he knew that it was his only chance.
he was n't quite sure that it really was a chance, for shadow was such a bold fellow that he might not be afraid to follow him right in, but it was worth trying.
along the stone wall beside the old orchard raced happy jack to the dooryard of farmer brown, and after him ran shadow the weasel, and shadow looked as if he was enjoying himself.
no doubt he was.
he knew just as well as happy jack did that there was small chance of meeting farmer brown's boy so early in the morning, so he felt very sure how that chase was going to end, and that when it did end he would breakfast on squirrel.
by the time happy jack reached the dooryard, shadow was only a few jumps behind him, and happy jack was pretty well out of breath.
he did n't stop to look to see if the way was clear.
there was n't time for that.
besides, there could be no greater danger in front than was almost at his heels, and so, without looking one way or another, he scampered across the dooryard and up the big maple tree close to the house.
shadow the weasel was surprised.
he had not dreamed that happy jack would come over here.
but shadow is a bold fellow, and it made little difference to him where happy jack went.
at least, that is what he thought.
so he followed happy jack across the dooryard and up the maple tree.
he took his time about it, for he knew by the way happy jack had run that he was pretty nearly at the end of his strength.
""he never'll get out of this tree," thought shadow, as he started to climb it.
he fully expected to find happy jack huddled in a miserable little heap somewhere near the top.
just imagine how surprised he was when he discovered that happy jack was n't to be seen.
he rubbed his angry little red eyes, and they grew angrier and redder than before.
""must be a hollow up here somewhere," he muttered.
""i'll just follow the scent of his feet, and that will lead me to him."
but when that scent led him out on a branch the tip of which brushed against farmer brown's house shadow got another surprise.
there was no sign of happy jack.
he could n't have reached the roof.
there was no place he could have gone unless --.
shadow stared across at a window open about two inches.
""he could n't have!"
muttered shadow.
""he would n't dare.
he could n't have!"
but happy jack had.
he had gone inside that window.
chapter xxvi farmer brown's boy wakes with a start never think another crazy just because it happens you never've heard of just the thing that they have started out to do.
happy jack.
is n't it queer how hard it seems to be for some boys to go to bed at the proper time and how much harder it is for them to get up in the morning?
it was just so with farmer brown's boy.
i suppose he would n't have been a real boy if it had n't been so.
of course, while he was sick with the mumps, he did n't have to get up, and while he was getting over the mumps his mother let him sleep as long as he wanted to in the morning.
that was very nice, but it made it all the harder to get up when he should after he was well again.
in summer it was n't so bad getting up early, but in winter -- well, that was the one thing about winter that farmer brown's boy did n't like.
on this particular morning farmer brown had called him, and he had replied with a sleepy "all right."
and then had rolled over and promptly gone to sleep again.
in two minutes he was dreaming just as if there were no such things as duties to be done.
for a while they were very pleasant dreams, very pleasant indeed.
but suddenly they changed.
a terrible monster was chasing him.
it had great red eyes as big as saucers, and sparks of fire flew from its mouth.
it had great claws as big as ice tongs, and it roared like a lion.
in his dream farmer brown's boy was running with all his might.
then he tripped and fell, and somehow he could n't get up again.
the terrible monster came nearer and nearer.
farmer brown's boy tried to scream and could n't.
he was so frightened that he had lost his voice.
the terrible monster was right over him now and reached out one of his huge paws with the great claws.
one of them touched him on the cheek, and it burned like fire.
with a yell, a real, genuine yell, farmer brown's boy awoke and sprang out of bed.
for a minute he could n't think where he was.
then with a sigh of relief he realized that he was safe in his own snug little room with the first jolly little sunbeam creeping in at the window to wish him good morning and chide him for being such a lazy fellow.
a thump and a scurry of little feet caught his attention, and he turned to see a gray squirrel running for the open window.
it jumped up on the sill, looked out, then jumped down inside again, and ran over to a corner of the room, where he crouched as if in great fear.
it was clear that he had been badly frightened by the yell of farmer brown's boy, and that he was still more frightened by something he had seen when he looked out of the window.
a great light broke over farmer brown's boy.
""happy jack, you little rascal, i believe you are the terrible monster that scared me so!"
he exclaimed.
""i believe you were on my bed, and that it was your claws that i felt on my face.
but what ails you?
you look frightened almost to death."
he went over to the window and looked out.
a movement in the big maple tree just outside caught his attention.
he saw a long, slim white form dart down the tree and disappear.
he knew who it was.
it was shadow the weasel.
""so that pesky weasel has been after you again, and you came to me for help," said he gently, as he coaxed happy jack to come to him.
""this is the place to come to every time.
poor little chap, you're all of a tremble.
i guess i know how you feel when a weasel is after you.
i guess you feel just as i felt when i dreamed that that monster was after me.
my, but you certainly did give me a scare when you touched my face!"
he gently stroked happy jack as he talked, and happy jack let him.
""breakfast!"
called a voice from downstairs.
""coming!"
replied farmer brown's boy as he put happy jack on the table by a dish of nuts and began to scramble into his clothes.
chapter xxvii happy jack is afraid to go home safety first is the best rule to insure a long life.
happy jack.
happy jack did n't dare go home.
can you think of anything more dreadful than to be afraid to go to your own home?
why, home is the dearest place in the world, and it should be the safest.
just think how you would feel if you should be away from home, and then you should learn that it would n't be safe for you to go back there again, and you had no other place to go.
it often happens that way with the little people of the green meadows and the green forest.
it was that way with happy jack squirrel now.
you see, happy jack knew that shadow the weasel is not one to give up easily.
shadow has one very good trait, and that is persistence.
he is not easily discouraged.
when he sets out to do a thing, usually he does it.
if he starts to get a thing, usually he gets it.
no, he is n't easily discouraged.
happy jack knows this.
no one knows it better.
so happy jack did n't dare to go home.
he knew that any minute of night or day shadow might surprise him there, and that would be the end of him.
he more than half suspected that shadow was at that very time hiding somewhere along the way ready to spring out on him if he should try to go back home.
he had stayed in the room of farmer brown's boy until mrs. brown had come to make the bed.
then he had jumped out the window into the big maple tree.
he was n't quite sure of mrs. brown yet.
she had kindly eyes.
they were just like the eyes of farmer brown's boy.
but he did n't feel really acquainted yet, and he felt safer outside than inside the room while she was there.
""oh dear, oh dear!
what shall i do?
i have no home, and so to keep me warm and snug and safe i have no place to go!"
happy jack said this over and over as he sat in the maple tree, trying to decide what was to be done.
""i wonder what ails that squirrel.
he seems to be doing a lot of scolding," said mrs. brown, as she looked out of the window.
and that shows how easy it is to misunderstand people when we do n't know all about their affairs.
mrs. brown thought that happy jack was scolding, when all the time he was just frightened and worried and wondering where he could go and what he could do to feel safe from shadow the weasel.
because he did n't dare to go back to the green forest, he spent most of the day in the big maple tree close to farmer brown's house.
the window had been closed, so he could n't go inside.
he looked at it longingly a great many times during the day, hoping that he would find it open.
but he did n't.
you see, it was opened only at night when farmer brown's boy went to bed, so that he would have plenty of fresh air all night.
of course happy jack did n't know that.
all his life he had had plenty of fresh air all the time, and be could n't understand how people could live in houses all shut up.
late that afternoon farmer brown's boy, who had been at school all day, came whistling into the yard.
he noticed happy jack right away.
""hello!
you back again!
is n't one good meal a day enough?"
he exclaimed.
""he's been there all day," said his mother, who had come to the door just in time to overhear him.
""i do n't know what ails him."
then farmer brown's boy noticed how forlorn happy jack looked.
he remembered happy jack's fright that morning.
""i know what's the matter!"
he cried.
""it's that weasel.
the poor little chap is afraid to go home.
we must see what we can do for him.
i wonder if he will stay if i make a new house for him.
i believe i'll try it and see."
chapter xxviii happy jack finds a new home they say the very darkest clouds are lined with silver bright and fair, though how they know i do not see, and neither do i really care.
it's good to believe, and so i try to believe't is true with all my might, that nothing is so seeming dark but has a hidden side that's bright.
happy jack.
certainly things could n't look much darker than they did to happy jack squirrel as he sat in the big maple tree at the side of farmer brown's house, and saw jolly, round, red mr. sun getting ready to go to bed behind the purple hills.
he was afraid to go to his home in the green forest because shadow the weasel might be waiting for him there.
he was afraid of the night which would soon come.
he was cold, and he was hungry.
altogether he was as miserable a little squirrel as ever was seen.
he had just made up his mind that he would have to go look for a hollow in one of the trees in the old orchard in which to spend the night, when around the corner of the house came farmer brown's boy with something under one arm and dragging a ladder.
he whistled cheerily to happy jack as he put the ladder against the tree and climbed up.
by this time happy jack had grown so timid that he was just a little afraid of farmer brown's boy, so he climbed as high up in the tree as he could get and watched what was going on below.
even if he was afraid, there was comfort in having farmer brown's boy near.
for some time farmer brown's boy worked busily at the place where the branch that happy jack knew so well started out from the trunk of the tree towards the window of farmer brown's boy's room.
when he had fixed things to suit him, he went down the ladder and carried it away with him.
in the crotch of the tree he had left the queer thing that he had brought under his arm.
in spite of his fears, happy jack was curious.
little by little he crept nearer.
what he saw was a box with a round hole, just about big enough for him to go through, in one end, and in front of it a little shelf.
on the shelf were some of the nuts that he liked best.
for a long time happy jack looked and looked.
was it a trap?
somehow he could n't believe that it was.
what would farmer brown's boy try to trap him for when they were such good friends?
at last the sight of the nuts was too much for him.
it certainly was safe enough to help himself to those.
how good they tasted!
almost before he knew it, they were gone.
then he got up courage enough to peep inside.
the box was filled with soft hay.
it certainly did look inviting in there to a fellow who had no home and no place to go.
he put his head inside.
finally he went wholly in.
it was just as nice as it looked.
""i believe," thought happy jack, "that he made this little house just for me, and that he put all this hay in here for my bed.
he does n't know much about making a bed, but i guess he means well."
with that he went to work happily to make up a bed to suit him, and by the time the first black shadow had crept as far as the big maple tree, happy jack was curled up fast asleep in his new house.
chapter xxix farmer brown's boy takes a prisoner the craftiest and cleverest, the strongest and the bold will make mistakes like other folks, young, middle-aged, and old.
happy jack.
happy jack squirrel was happy once more.
he liked his new house, the house that farmer brown's boy had made for him and fastened in the big maple tree close by the house in which he himself lived.
happy jack and farmer brown's boy were getting to be greater friends than ever.
every morning happy jack jumped over to the window-sill and then in at the open window of the room of farmer brown's boy.
there he was sure to find a good breakfast of fat hickory nuts.
when farmer brown's boy overslept, as he did sometimes, happy jack would jump up on the bed and waken him.
he thought this great fun.
so did farmer brown's boy, though sometimes when he was very sleepy he pretended to scold, especially on sunday mornings when he did not have to get up as early as on other days.
of course, black pussy had soon discovered that happy jack was living in the big maple tree, and she spent a great deal of time sitting at the foot of it and glaring up at him with a hungry look in her eyes, although she was n't hungry at all, for she had plenty to eat.
several times she climbed up in the tree and tried to catch him.
at first he had been afraid, but he soon found out that black pussy was not at all at home in a tree as he was.
after that, he rather enjoyed having her try to catch him.
it was almost like a game.
it was great fun to scold at her and let her get very near him and then, just as she was sure that she was going to catch him, to jump out of her reach.
after a while she was content to sit at the foot of the tree and just glare at him.
happy jack had only one worry now, and this did n't trouble him a great deal.
it was possible that shadow the weasel might take it into his head to try to surprise him some night.
happy jack knew that by this time shadow must know where he was living, for of course sammy jay had found out, and sammy is one of those who tells all he knows.
still, being so close to farmer brown's boy gave happy jack a very comfortable feeling.
now all this time farmer brown's boy had not forgotten shadow the weasel and how he had driven happy jack out of the green forest, and he had wondered a great many times if it would n't be a kindness to the other little people if he should trap shadow and put him out of the way.
but you know he had given up trapping, and somehow he did n't like to think of setting a trap, even for such a mischief-maker as shadow.
then something happened that made farmer brown's boy very, very angry.
one morning, when he went to feed the biddies, he found that shadow had visited the henhouse in the night and killed three of his best pullets.
that decided him.
he felt sure that shadow would come again, and he meant to give shadow a surprise.
he hunted until he found the little hole through which shadow had got into the henhouse, and there he set a trap.
""i do n't like to do it, but i've got to," said he.
""if he had been content with one, it would have been bad enough, but he killed three just from the love of killing, and it is high time that something be done to get rid of him."
the very next morning happy jack saw farmer brown's boy coming from the henhouse with something under his arm.
he came straight over to the foot of the big maple tree and put the thing he was carrying down on the ground.
he whistled to happy jack, and as happy jack came down to see what it was all about, farmer brown's boy grinned.
""here's a friend of yours you probably will be glad to see," said he.
at first, all happy jack could make out was a kind of wire box.
then he saw something white inside, and it moved.
very suspiciously happy jack came nearer.
then his heart gave a great leap.
that wire box was a cage, and glaring between the wires with red, angry eyes was shadow the weasel!
he was a prisoner!
right away happy jack was so excited that he acted as if he were crazy.
he no longer had a single thing to be afraid of.
do you wonder that he was excited?
chapter xxx a prisoner without fear a bad name is easy to get but hard to live down.
happy jack.
shadow the weasel was a prisoner.
he who always had been free to go and come as he pleased and to do as he pleased was now in a little narrow cage and quite helpless.
for once he had been careless, and this was the result.
farmer brown's boy had caught him in a trap.
of course, he should have known better than to have visited the henhouse a second time after killing three of the best pullets there.
he should have known that farmer brown's boy would be sure to do something about it.
the truth is, he had yielded to temptation when common sense had warned him not to.
so he had no one to blame for his present difficulty but himself, and he knew it.
at first he had been in a terrible rage and had bitten at the wires until he had made his mouth sore.
when he had made sure that the wires were stouter than his teeth, he wisely stopped trying to get out in that way, and made up his mind that the only thing to do was to watch for a chance to slip out, if the door of the cage should happen to be left unfastened.
of course it hurt his pride terribly to be made fun of by those who always had feared him.
happy jack squirrel was the first one of these to see him.
farmer brown's boy had put the cage down near the foot of the big maple tree in which happy jack was living, because shadow had driven him out of the green forest.
as soon as happy jack had made sure that shadow really and truly was a prisoner and so quite harmless, he had acted as if he were crazy.
perhaps he was -- crazy with joy.
you see, he no longer had anything to be really afraid of, for there was no one but shadow from whom he could not get away by running into his house.
billy mink was the only other one who could follow him there, and billy was not likely to come climbing up a tree so close to farmer brown's house.
so happy jack raced up and down the tree in the very greatest excitement, and his tongue went quite as fast as his legs.
he wanted everybody to know that shadow was a prisoner at last.
at first he did not dare go very close to the cage.
you see, he had so long feared shadow that he was still afraid of him even though he was so helpless.
but little by little happy jack grew bolder and came very close.
and then he began doing something not at all nice.
he began calling shadow names and making fun of him, and telling him how he was n't afraid of him.
it was all very foolish and worse -- it was like hitting a foe who was helpless.
of course happy jack hastened to tell everybody he met all about shadow, so it was n't long before shadow began to receive many visitors.
whenever farmer brown's boy was not around there was sure to be one or more of the little people who had feared shadow to taunt him and make fun of him.
somehow it seems as if always it is that way when people get into trouble.
you know it is very easy to appear to be bold and brave when there is nothing to be afraid of.
of course that is n't bravery at all, though many seem to think it is.
-lsb- illustration: it was n't long before shadow began to receive many visitors. -rsb-
now what do you think that right down in their hearts all these little people who came to jeer at shadow the weasel hoped they would see?
why, they hoped they would see shadow afraid.
yes, sir, that is just what they hoped.
but they did n't.
that is where they were disappointed.
not once did shadow show the least sign of fear.
he did n't know what farmer brown's boy would do with him, and he had every reason to fear that if he was not to be kept a prisoner for the rest of his natural life, something dreadful would be the end.
but he was too proud and too brave to let any one know that any such fear ever entered his mind.
whatever his faults, shadow is no coward.
he boldly took bits of meat which farmer brown's boy brought to him, and not once appeared in the least afraid, so that, much as he disliked him, farmer brown's boy actually had to admire him.
he was a prisoner, but he kept just as stout a heart as ever.
chapter xxxi what farmer brown's boy did with shadow ribble, dibble, dibble, dab!
some people have the gift of gab!
some people have no tongues at all to trip them up and make them fall.
happy jack.
it is a fact, one of the biggest facts in all the world, that tongues make the greatest part of all the trouble that brings uncomfortable feelings, and bitterness and sadness and suffering and sorrow.
if it was n't for unruly, careless, mean tongues, the great world would be a million times better to live in, a million times happier.
it is because of his unruly tongue that sammy jay is forever getting into trouble.
it is the same way with chatterer the red squirrel.
and it is just the same way with a great many little boys and girls, and with grown-ups as well.
when the little people of the green forest and green meadows who fear shadow the weasel found that he was a prisoner, many of them took particular pains to visit him when the way was clear, just to make fun of him and tease him and tell him that they were not afraid of him and that they were glad that he was a prisoner, and that they were sure something dreadful would happen to him and they hoped it would.
shadow said never a word in reply.
he was too wise to do that.
he just turned his back on them.
but all the time he was storing up in his mind all these hateful things, and he meant, if ever he got free again, to make life very uncomfortable for those whose foolish tongues were trying to make him more miserable than he already felt.
but these little people with the foolish tongues did n't stop to think of what might happen.
they just took it for granted that shadow never again would run wild and free in the green forest, and so they just let their tongues run and enjoyed doing it.
perhaps they would n't have, if they could have known just what was going on in the mind of farmer brown's boy.
ever since he had found shadow in the trap which he had set for him in the henhouse, farmer brown's boy had been puzzling over what he should do with his prisoner.
at first he had thought he would keep him in a cage the rest of his life.
but somehow, whenever he looked into shadow's fierce little eyes and saw how unafraid they looked, he got to thinking of how terrible it must be to be shut up in a little narrow cage when one has had all the green forest in which to go and come.
then he thought that he would kill shadow and put him out of his misery at once.
""he killed my pullets, and he is always hunting the harmless little people of the green forest and the green meadows, so he deserves to be killed," thought farmer brown's boy.
""he's a pest."
then he remembered that after all shadow was one of old mother nature's little people, and that he must serve some purpose in mother nature's great plan.
bad as he seemed, she must have some use for him.
perhaps it was to teach others through fear of him how to be smarter and take better care of themselves and so be better fitted to do their parts.
the more he thought of this, the harder it was for farmer brown's boy to make up his mind to kill him.
but if he could n't keep him a prisoner and he could n't kill him, what could he do?
he was scowling down at shadow one morning and puzzling over this when a happy idea came to him.
""i know what i'll do!"
he exclaimed.
without another word he picked up the cage with shadow in it and started off across the green meadows, which now, you know, were not green at all but covered with snow.
happy jack watched him out of sight.
he had gone in the direction of the old pasture.
he was gone a long time, and when he did return, the cage was empty.
happy jack blinked at the empty cage.
then he began to ask in a scolding tone, "what did you do with him?
what did you do with him?"
farmer brown's boy just smiled and tossed a nut to happy jack.
and far up in the old pasture, shadow the weasel was once more free.
it was well for happy jack's peace of mind that he did n't know that.
chapter xxxii happy jack is perfectly happy never say a thing is so unless you absolutely know.
just remember every day to be quite sure of what you say.
happy jack.
taking things for granted does n't do at all in this world.
to take a thing for granted is to think that it is so without taking the trouble to find out whether it is or not.
it is apt not only to get you yourself into trouble, but to make trouble for other people as well.
happy jack saw farmer brown's boy carry shadow the weasel away in a cage, and he saw him bring back the cage empty.
what could he have done with shadow?
for a while he teased farmer brown's boy to tell him, but of course farmer brown's boy did n't understand happy jack's language.
now happy jack knew just what he would like to believe.
he would like to believe that farmer brown's boy had taken shadow away and made an end of him.
and because he wanted to believe that, it was n't very hard to believe it.
there was the empty cage.
of course farmer brown's boy would n't have gone to the trouble of trapping shadow unless he intended to get rid of him for good.
""he's made an end of him, that's what he's done!"
said happy jack to himself, because that is what he would have done if he had been in farmer brown's boy's place.
so having made up his mind that this is what had been done with shadow, he at once told all his friends that it was so, and was himself supremely happy.
you see, he felt that he no longer had anything to worry about.
yes, sir, happy jack was happy.
he liked the house farmer brown's boy had made for him in the big maple tree close by his own house.
he was sure of plenty to eat, because farmer brown's boy always looked out for that, and as a result happy jack was growing fat.
none of his enemies of the green forest dared come so near to farmer brown's house, and the only one he had to watch out for at all was black pussy.
by this time he was n't afraid of her; not a bit.
in fact, he rather enjoyed teasing her and getting her to chase him.
when she was dozing on the doorstep he liked to steal very close, wake her with a sharp bark, and then race for the nearest tree, and there scold her to his heart's content.
he had made friends with mrs. brown and with farmer brown, and he even felt almost friends with bowser the hound.
sometimes he would climb up on the roof of bowser's little house and drop nutshells on bowser's head when he was asleep.
the funny thing was bowser never seemed to mind.
he would lazily open his eyes and wink one of them at happy jack and thump with his tail.
he seemed to feel that now happy jack was one of the family, just as he was.
so happy jack was just as happy as a fat gray squirrel with nothing to worry him could be.
he was so happy that sammy jay actually became jealous.
you know sammy is a born trouble maker.
he visited happy jack every morning, and while he helped himself to the good things that he always found spread for him, for farmer brown's boy always had something for the little feathered folk to eat, he would hint darkly that such goodness and kindness was not to be trusted, and that something was sure to happen.
that is just the way with some folks; they always are suspicious.
but nothing that sammy jay could say troubled happy jack; and sammy would fly away quite put out because he could n't spoil happy jack's happiness the least little bit.
chapter xxxiii sammy jay upsets happy jack a good deed well done often is overlooked, but you never are allowed to forget a mistake.
happy jack.
sammy jay chuckled as he flew across the snow-covered green meadows on his way to his home in the green forest.
he chuckled and he chuckled.
to have heard him you would have thought that either he had thought of something very pleasant, or something very pleasant had happened to him.
once he turned in the direction of farmer brown's house, but changed his mind as he saw the black shadows creeping out from the purple hills, and once more headed for the green forest.
""too late to-day.
time i was home now.
it'll keep until to-morrow," he muttered.
then he chuckled, and he was still chuckling when he reached the big hemlock tree, among the thick branches of which he spent each night.
""do n't know what started me off to the old pasture this afternoon, but i'm glad i went.
my, my, my, but i'm glad i went," said he, as he fluffed out his feathers and prepared to tuck his head under his wing.
""it pays to snoop around in this world and see what is going on.
i learned a long time ago not to believe everything i hear, and that the surest way to make sure of things is to find out for myself.
nothing like using my own eyes and my own ears.
well, i must get to sleep."
he began to chuckle again, and he was still chuckling as he fell asleep.
the next morning sammy jay was astir at the very first sign of light.
he waited just long enough to see that every feather was in place, for sammy is a bit vain, and very particular about his dress.
then he headed straight for farmer brown's house.
just as he expected he found happy jack squirrel was awake, for happy jack is an early riser.
""good morning," said sammy jay, and tried very hard to make his voice sound smooth and pleasant, a very hard thing for sammy to do, for his voice, you know, is naturally harsh and unpleasant.
""you seem to be looking as happy as ever."
""of course i am," replied happy jack.
""why should n't i be?
i have n't a thing to worry about.
of course i'm happy, and i hope you're just as happy as i am.
i'm going to get my breakfast now, and then i'll be happier still."
""that's so.
there's nothing like a good breakfast to make one happy," said sammy jay, helping himself to some suet tied to a branch of the maple tree.
""by the way, i saw an old friend of yours yesterday.
he inquired after you particularly.
he did n't exactly send his love, but he said that he hoped you are as well and fat as ever, and that he will see you again some time.
he said that he did n't know of any one he likes to look at better than you."
happy jack looked flattered.
""that was very nice of him," said he.
""who was it?"
""guess," replied sammy.
happy jack scratched his head thoughtfully.
there were not many friends in winter.
most of them were asleep or had gone to the far away southland.
""peter rabbit," he ventured.
sammy shook his head.
""jimmy skunk!"
again sammy shook his head.
""jumper the hare!"
""guess again," said sammy, chuckling.
""little joe otter!"
""wrong," replied sammy.
""i give up.
who was it?
do tell me," begged happy jack.
""it was shadow the weasel!"
cried sammy, triumphantly.
happy jack dropped the nut he was just going to eat, and in place of happiness something very like fear grew and grew in his eyes.
""i -- i do n't believe you," he stammered.
""farmer brown's boy took him away and put an end to him.
i saw him take him."
""but you did n't see him put an end to shadow," declared sammy, "because he did n't.
he took him "way up in the old pasture and let him go, and i saw him up there yesterday.
that's what comes of guessing at things.
shadow is no more dead than you are.
well, i must be going along.
i hope you'll enjoy your breakfast."
with this, off flew sammy jay, chuckling as if he thought he had done a very smart thing in upsetting happy jack, which goes to show what queer ideas some people have.
as for happy jack, he worried for a while, but as shadow did n't come, and there was nothing else to worry about, little by little happy jack's high spirits returned, until he was as happy as ever.
and now, though he has had many adventures since then, i must leave him, for there is no more room in this book.
perhaps if you ask him, he will tell you of these other adventures himself.
meanwhile, bashful little mrs. peter rabbit is anxious that you should know something about her.
_book_title_: thornton_waldo_burgess___the_adventures_of_johnny_chuck.txt.out
i gentle sister south wind arrives "good news, good news for every one, above or down below, for master winsome bluebird's come to whistle off the snow!"
all the green meadows and all the green forest had heard the news.
peter rabbit had seen to that.
and just as soon as each of the little meadow and forest folks heard it, he hurried out to listen for himself and make sure that it was true.
and each, when he heard that sweet voice of winsome bluebird, had kicked up his heels and shouted "hurrah!"
you see they all knew that winsome bluebird never is very far ahead of gentle sister south wind, and that when she arrives, blustering, rough brother north wind is already on his way back to the cold, cold land where the ice never melts.
of course winsome bluebird does n't really whistle off the snow, but after he comes, the snow disappears so fast that it seems as if he did.
it is surprising what a difference a little good news makes.
of course nothing had really changed that first day when winsome bluebird's whistle was heard on the green meadows and in the green forest, but it seemed as if everything had changed.
and it was all because that sweet whistle was a promise, a promise that every one knew would come true.
and so there was joy in all the hearts on the green meadows and in the green forest.
even grim old granny fox felt it, and as for reddy fox, why, reddy even shouted good-naturedly to peter rabbit and hoped he was feeling well.
and then gentle sister south wind arrived.
she came in the night, and in the morning there she was, hard at work making the green meadows and the green forest ready for mistress spring.
she broke the icy bands that had bound the smiling pool and the laughing brook so long; and the smiling pool began to smile once more, and the laughing brook to gurgle and then to laugh and finally to sing merrily.
she touched the little banks of snow that remained, and straightway they melted and disappeared.
she kissed the eight babies of unc" billy possum, and they kicked off the bedclothes under which old mrs. possum had tucked them and scrambled out of the big hollow tree to play.
she peeped in at the door of johnny chuck and called softly, and johnny chuck awoke from his long sleep and yawned and began to think about getting up.
she knocked at the door of digger the badger, and digger awoke.
she tickled the nose of striped chipmunk, who was about half awake, and striped chipmunk sneezed and then he hopped out of bed and hurried up to his doorway to shout good morning after her, as she hurried over to see if bobby coon was still sleeping.
peter rabbit followed her about.
he could n't understand it at all.
peter had smiled to himself when he heard how softly she had called at the doorway of johnny chuck's house, for many and many a time during the long winter peter had stopped at johnny chuck's house and shouted down the long hall at the top of his voice without once waking johnny chuck.
now peter nearly tumbled over with surprise, as he heard johnny chuck yawn at the first low call of gentle sister south wind.
""how does she do it?
i do n't understand it at all," said peter, as he scratched his long left ear with his long left hind leg.
gentle sister south wind smiled at peter.
""there are a lot of things in this world that you will never understand, peter rabbit.
you will just have to believe them without understanding them and be content to know that they are so," she said, and hurried over to the green forest to tell unc" billy possum that his old friend, ol' mistah buzzard, was on his way up from ol' virginny.
ii johnny chuck receives callers the morning after gentle sister south wind arrived on the green meadows, peter rabbit came hopping and skipping down the lone little path from the green forest.
peter was happy.
he did n't know why.
he just was happy.
it was in the air.
everybody else seemed happy, too.
peter had to stop every few minutes just to kick up his heels and try to jump over his own shadow.
he had felt just that way ever since gentle sister south wind arrived.
""i simply have to kick and dance!
i can not help but gaily prance!
somehow i feel it in my toes whenever gentle south wind blows."
so sang peter rabbit as he hopped and skipped down the lone little path.
suddenly he stopped right in the middle of the verse.
he sat up very straight and stared down at johnny chuck's house.
some one was sitting on johnny chuck's door-step.
it looked like johnny chuck.
no, it looked like the shadow of johnny chuck.
peter rubbed his eyes and looked again.
then he hurried as fast as he could, lipperty-lipperty - lip.
the nearer he got, the less like johnny chuck looked the one sitting on johnny chuck's door-step.
johnny chuck had gone to sleep round and fat and roly-poly, so fat he could hardly waddle.
this fellow was thin, even thinner than peter rabbit himself.
he waved a thin hand to peter.
""hello, peter rabbit!
i told you that i would see you in the spring.
how did you stand the long winter?"
that certainly was johnny chuck's voice.
peter was so delighted that in his hurry he fell over his own feet.
""is it really and truly you, johnny chuck?"
he cried.
""of course it's me; who did you think it was?"
replied johnny chuck rather crossly, for peter was staring at him as if he had never seen him before.
""i -- i -- i did n't know," confessed peter rabbit.
""i thought it was you and i thought it was n't you.
what have you been doing to yourself, johnny chuck?
your coat looks three sizes too big for you, and when i last saw you it did n't look big enough."
peter hopped all around johnny chuck, looking at him as if he did n't believe his own eyes.
-lsb- illustration: "is it really and truly you, johnny chuck?"
he cried. -rsb-
""oh, johnny's all right.
he's just been living on his own fat," said another voice.
it was jimmy skunk who had spoken, and he now stood holding out his hand to johnny chuck and grinning good-naturedly.
he had come up without either of the others seeing him.
peter's big eyes opened wider than ever.
""do you mean to say that he has been eating his own fat?"
he gasped.
johnny chuck and jimmy skunk both laughed.
""no," said jimmy skunk, "he did n't eat it, but he lived on it just the same while he was asleep all winter.
do n't you see he has n't got a particle of fat on him now?"
""but how could he live on it, if he did n't eat it?"
asked peter, staring at johnny chuck as if he had never seen him before.
jimmy skunk shrugged his shoulders.
""do n't ask me.
that is one of old mother nature's secrets; you'll have to ask her," he replied.
""and do n't ask me," said johnny chuck, "for i've been asleep all the time.
my, but i'm hungry!"
""so am i!"
said another voice.
there was reddy fox grinning at them.
johnny chuck dove into the doorway of his house with peter rabbit at his heels, for there was nowhere else to go.
jimmy skunk just stood still and chuckled.
he knew that reddy fox did n't dare touch him.
iii the singers of the smiling pool mistress spring was making everybody happy on the green meadows and in the green forest and around the smiling pool.
with her gentle fingers she wakened one by one all the little sleepers who had spent the long winter dreaming of warm summer days and not knowing anything at all of rough, blustering brother north wind or jack frost.
as they wakened, many began to sing for joy.
but the clearest, loudest singers of all lived in the smiling pool.
it was a long time before peter rabbit and johnny chuck knew where they lived.
every night just before going to bed, johnny chuck would sit on his door-step just to listen, and as he listened somehow he felt better and happier; and he always had pleasant dreams after listening to the sweet singers of the smiling pool.
even after he had curled himself up for the night deep down in his snug bedroom, he could hear those sweet voices, and whenever he waked up in the night he would hear them.
""spring!
spring!
spring!
spring!
beautiful, beautiful, beautiful spring!
so gentle, so loving, so sweet and so fair!
oh, who can be cross when there's love in the air?
be happy!
be joyful!
and join in our song and help us to send the glad tidings along!
spring!
spring!
spring!
spring!
beautiful, beautiful, beautiful spring!"
when johnny chuck had first heard them, he had looked in all the tree - tops for the singers, but not one could he see.
then he had thought that they must be hidden in the bushes; but when he went to look, he found that the sweet singers were not there.
it was very mysterious.
finally he asked peter rabbit if he knew who the sweet singers were and where they were.
peter did n't know, but he was willing to try to find out.
peter is always willing to try to find out about things he does n't already know about.
so johnny chuck and peter rabbit started out to find the sweet singers.
""i believe they are down in the old bulrushes around the smiling pool," said peter rabbit, as he stood listening with a hand behind one long ear.
so over to the smiling pool they hurried.
the nearer they got, the louder became the voices singing: "spring!
spring!
spring!
spring!
beautiful, beautiful, beautiful spring!"
but look as they would, they could n't see a single singer among the brown bulrushes.
it was very strange, very strange indeed!
it seemed as if the voices came right out of the smiling pool itself!
when peter rabbit made a little noise, as he hopped out on the bank where he could look all over the smiling pool, the singing stopped.
after he had sat perfectly still for a little while, it began again.
there was no doubt about it this time; those voices came right out of the water.
johnny chuck stared at peter rabbit, and peter stared at johnny chuck.
nobody was to be seen in the smiling pool, and yet there were those voices -- oh, so many of them -- coming right out of the water.
""how can birds stay under water and still sing?"
asked johnny chuck.
""ho, ho, ho!
ha, ha, ha!"
peter rabbit and johnny chuck whirled around, to find jerry muskrat peeping up at them from a hole in the bank almost under their feet.
-lsb- illustration: "ho, ho, ho!
that's the best joke this spring!"
shouted jerry muskrat. -rsb-
""ho, ho, ho!
that's the best joke this spring!"
shouted jerry muskrat, and laughed until he had to hold his sides.
""birds under water!
ho, ho, ho!"
iv johnny chuck finds out who the sweet singers are johnny chuck could n't keep away from the smiling pool.
no, sir, johnny chuck could n't keep away from the smiling pool.
ever since he and peter rabbit had gone over there looking for the sweet singers, who every night and part of the day told all who would listen how glad they were that mistress spring had come to the green meadows and the green forest, johnny chuck had had something on his mind.
and this is why he could n't keep away from the smiling pool.
you see it was this way: johnny and peter had thought that of course the sweet singers were birds.
they had n't dreamed of anything else.
so of course they went looking for birds.
when they reached the smiling pool, the voices came right out of the water.
johnny knew that some birds, like many of the cousins of mrs. quack, can stay under water a long time, and so he did n't know but some other birds might.
jerry muskrat was always watching for johnny, whenever he came to the smiling pool, and his eyes would twinkle as he would gravely say: "hello, johnny chuck!
have you seen the birds sing under water yet?"
johnny would smile good-naturedly and reply: "not yet, jerry muskrat.
wo n't you point them out to me?"
then jerry would reply: "two eyes you have, bright as can be; perhaps some day you'll learn to see."
then johnny chuck would sit as still as ever he knew how, and watch and watch the smiling pool, but not a bird did he see in the water, though the singers were still there.
one day a sudden thought popped into his head.
perhaps those singers were not birds at all!
why had n't he thought of that before?
perhaps it was because he was looking so hard for birds that he had n't seen anything else.
johnny began to look, not for anything in particular, but to see everything that he could.
almost right away he saw some tiny little dark spots on the water.
they did n't look like much of anything.
they were so small that he had n't noticed them before.
one of them was quite close to him, and as johnny chuck looked at it, it began to look like a tiny nose, and then -- why, just then, johnny was very sure that one of those singing voices came right from that very spot!
he was so surprised that he hopped to his feet and excitedly beckoned to jerry muskrat.
the instant he did that, the voices near him stopped singing, and the little spots on the water disappeared, leaving just the tiniest of little rings, just such tiny little rings as drops of rain falling on the smiling pool would make.
and when that tiny spot nearest to him that looked like a tiny nose disappeared, johnny chuck caught just a glimpse of a little form under the water.
""why -- why-e-e!
the singers are grandfather frog's children!"
cried johnny chuck.
""no, they're not, but they are own cousins to them; they are the grandchildren of old mr. tree toad!
and they are called hylas!"
said jerry muskrat, laughing and rubbing his hands in great glee.
""i told you that if you used your eyes, you'd learn to see."
""my, but they've got voices bigger than they are!"
said johnny chuck, as he started home across the green meadows.
""i'm glad i know who the singers of the smiling pool are, and i must n't forget their name -- hylas.
what a funny name!"
but farmer brown's boy, listening to their song that evening, did n't call them hylas.
he said: "hear the peepers!
spring is surely here."
v johnny chuck becomes dissatisfied johnny chuck was unhappy.
here it was the glad springtime, when everybody is supposed to be the very happiest, and johnny chuck was unhappy.
why was he unhappy?
well, he hardly knew himself.
he had slept comfortably all the long winter.
he had awakened very, very hungry, but now he had plenty to eat.
all about him the birds were singing or busily at work building new homes.
and still johnny chuck felt unhappy.
it was dreadful to feel this way and not have any good reason for it.
one bright morning johnny chuck sat on his door-step watching drummer the woodpecker building a new home in the old apple-tree.
drummer's red head flew back and forth, back and forth, and his sharp bill cut out tiny bits of wood.
it was slow work; it was hard work.
but drummer seemed happy, very happy indeed.
it was watching drummer that started johnny chuck to thinking about his own home.
he had always thought it a very nice home.
he had built it just as he wanted it.
from the doorstep he could look in all directions over the green meadows.
it had a front door and a hidden back door.
yes, it was a very nice home indeed.
but now, all of a sudden, johnny chuck became dissatisfied with his home.
it was too near the lone little path.
too many people knew where it was.
it was n't big enough.
the front door ought to face the other way.
dear me, what a surprising lot of faults a discontented heart can find with things that have always been just right!
it was so with johnny chuck.
that house in which he had spent so many happy days, which had protected him from all harm, of which he had been so proud when he first built it, was now the meanest house in the world.
if other people had new houses, why should n't he?
the more he thought about it, the more dissatisfied and discontented he became and of course the more unhappy.
you know one can not be dissatisfied and discontented and happy at the same time.
now dissatisfied and discontented people are not at all pleasant to have around.
johnny chuck had always been one of the best natured of all the little meadow people, and everybody liked him.
so jimmy skunk did n't know quite what to make of it, when he came down the lone little path and found johnny chuck so out of sorts that he would n't even answer when spoken to.
jimmy skunk was feeling very good-natured himself.
he had just had a fine breakfast of fat beetles and he was at peace with all the world.
so he sat down beside johnny chuck and began to talk, just as if johnny chuck was his usual good-natured self.
""it's a fine day," said jimmy skunk.
johnny chuck just sniffed.
""you're looking very fine," said jimmy.
johnny just scowled.
""i think you've got the best place on the green meadows for a house," said jimmy, pretending to admire the view.
johnny scowled harder than ever.
""and such a splendid house!"
said jimmy.
""i wish i had one like it."
""i'm glad you like it!
you can have the old thing!"
snapped johnny chuck.
""what's that?"
demanded jimmy skunk, opening his eyes very wide.
""i said that you can have it.
i'm going to move," replied johnny chuck.
now he really had n't thought of moving until that very minute.
and he did n't know why he had said it.
but he had said it, and because he is an obstinate little fellow he stuck to it.
""when can i move in?"
asked jimmy skunk, his eyes twinkling.
""right away, if you want to," replied johnny chuck, and swaggered off down the lone little path, leaving jimmy skunk to stare after him as if he thought johnny chuck had suddenly gone crazy, as indeed he did.
vi johnny chuck turns tramp johnny chuck had turned tramp.
yes, sir, johnny chuck had turned tramp.
it was a funny thing to do, but he had done it.
he did n't know why he had done it, excepting that he had become dissatisfied and discontented and unhappy in his old home.
and then, almost without thinking what he was doing, he had told jimmy skunk that he could have the house he had worked so hard to build the summer before and of which he had been so proud.
then johnny chuck had swaggered away down the lone little path without once looking back at the home he was leaving.
where was he going?
well, to tell the truth, johnny did n't know.
he was going to see the world, and perhaps when he had seen the world, he would build him a new house.
so as long as he was in sight of jimmy skunk, he swaggered along quite as if he was used to traveling about, without any snug house to go to at night.
but right down in his heart johnny chuck did n't feel half so bold as he pretended.
you see, not since he was a little chuck and had run away from old mother chuck with peter rabbit, had he ever been very far from his own door-step.
he had always been content to grow fat and roly-poly right near his own home, and listen to the tales of the great world from jimmy skunk and peter rabbit and bobby coon and unc" billy possum, all of whom are great travelers.
but now, here he was, actually setting forth, and without a home to come back to!
you see, he had made up his mind that no matter what happened, he would n't come back, after having given his house to jimmy skunk.
when he had reached a place where he thought jimmy skunk could n't see him, johnny chuck turned and looked back, and a queer little feeling seemed to make a lump that filled his throat and choked him.
the fact is, johnny chuck already began to feel homesick.
but he swallowed very hard and tried to make himself think that he was having a splendid time.
he stopped looking back and started on, and as he tramped along, he tried to sing a song he had once heard jimmy skunk sing: "the world may stretch full far and wide -- what matters that to me?
i'll tramp it up; i'll tramp it down!
for i am bold and free."
it was a very brave little song, but johnny chuck did n't feel half so brave and bold as he tried to think he did.
already he was beginning to wonder where he should spend the night.
then he thought of old whitetail the marshhawk, who had given him such a fright and had so nearly caught him when he was a little fellow.
the thought made him look around hastily, and there was old whitetail himself, sailing back and forth hungrily just ahead of him.
a great fear took possession of johnny chuck, and he made himself as flat as possible in the grass, for there was no place to hide.
he made up his mind that anyway he would fight.
nearer and nearer came old whitetail!
finally he passed right over johnny chuck.
but he did n't offer to touch him.
indeed, it seemed to johnny that old whitetail actually grinned and winked at him.
and right then all his fear left him.
""pooh!"
said johnny chuck scornfully.
""who's afraid of him!"
he suddenly realized that he was no longer a helpless little chuck who could n't take care of himself, but big and strong, with sharp teeth with which his old enemy had no mind to make a closer acquaintance, when there were mice and snakes to be caught without fighting.
so he puffed out his chest and went on, and actually began to enjoy himself, and almost wished for a chance to show how big and strong he was.
vii johnny's first adventure after old whitetail the marshhawk passed johnny chuck without offering to touch him, johnny began to feel very brave and bold and important.
he strutted and swaggered along as much as his short legs would let him.
he held his head very high.
already he felt that he had had an adventure and he longed for more.
he forgot the terrible lonesome feeling of a little while before.
he forgot that he had given away the only home he had.
he did n't know just why, but right down deep inside he had a sudden feeling that he really did n't care a thing about that old home.
in fact, he felt as if he would n't care if he never had another home.
yes, sir, that is the way that johnny chuck felt.
do you know why?
just because he had just begun to realize how big and strong he really was.
now it is a splendid thing to feel big and strong and brave, a very splendid thing!
but it is a bad thing to let that feeling turn to pride, foolish pride.
of course old whitetail had n't really been afraid of johnny chuck.
he had simply passed johnny with a wink, because there was plenty to eat without the trouble of fighting, and whitetail does n't fight just for the fun of it.
but foolish johnny chuck really thought that old whitetail was afraid of him.
the more he thought about it, the more tickled he felt and the more puffed up he felt.
he began to talk to himself and to brag.
yes, sir, johnny chuck began to brag: "i'm not afraid of any one; they're all afraid of me!
i only have to show my teeth to make them turn and flee!"
""pooh!"
said a voice.
""pooh!
it would take two like you to make me run away!"
johnny chuck gave a startled jump.
there was a strange chuck glaring at him from behind a little bunch of grass.
he was a big, gray old chuck whom johnny never had seen on the green meadows before, and he did n't look the least bit afraid.
no, sir, he did n't look the teeniest, weeniest bit afraid!
somehow, johnny chuck did n't feel half so big and strong and brave as he had a few minutes before.
but it would n't do to let this stranger know it.
of course not!
so, though he felt very small inside, johnny made all his hair bristle up and tried to look very fierce.
""who are you and what are you doing on my green meadows?"
he demanded.
""your green meadows!
your green meadows!
ho, ho, ho!
your green meadows!"
the stranger laughed an unpleasant laugh.
""how long since you owned the green meadows?
i have just come down on to them from the old pasture, and i like the looks of them so well that i think i will stay.
so run along, little boaster!
there is n't room for both of us here, and the sooner you trot along the better."
the stranger suddenly showed all his teeth and gritted them unpleasantly.
now when johnny chuck heard this, great anger filled his heart.
a stranger had ordered him to leave the green meadows where he had been born and always lived!
he could hardly believe his own ears.
he, johnny chuck, would show this stranger who was master here!
with a squeal of rage, johnny sprang at the gray old chuck.
then began such a fight as the merry little breezes of old mother west wind had never seen before.
they danced around excitedly and cried: "how dreadful!"
and hoped that johnny chuck would win, for you know they loved him very much.
over and over the two little fighters rolled, biting and scratching and tearing and growling and snarling.
jolly, round, red mr. sun hid his face behind a cloud, so as not to see such a dreadful sight.
the stranger had been in many fights and he was very crafty.
for a while johnny felt that he was getting the worst of it, and he began to wonder if he really would have to leave the green meadows.
the very thought filled him with new rage and he fought harder than ever.
now the stranger was old and his teeth were worn, while johnny was young and his teeth were very sharp.
after a long, long time, johnny felt the stranger growing weaker.
johnny fought harder than ever.
at last the stranger cried "enough!"
and when he could break away, started back towards the old pasture.
johnny chuck had won!
viii johnny has another adventure johnny chuck lay stretched out on the cool, soft grass of the green meadows, panting for breath.
he was very tired and very sore.
his face was scratched and bitten.
his clothes were torn, and he smarted dreadfully in a dozen places.
but still johnny chuck was happy.
when he raised his head to look, he could see a gray old chuck limping off towards the old pasture.
once in a while the gray old chuck would turn his head and show his teeth, but he kept right on towards the old pasture.
johnny chuck smiled.
it had been a great fight, and more than once johnny chuck had thought that he should have to give up.
he thought of this now, and then he thought with shame of how he had bragged and boasted just before the fight.
what if he had lost?
he resolved that he would never again brag or boast.
but he also made up his mind that if any one should pick a quarrel with him, he would show that he was n't afraid.
it was getting late in the afternoon when johnny finally felt rested enough to go on.
he had got to find a place to spend the night.
he hobbled along, for he was very stiff and sore, until he came to the edge of the green meadows, where they meet the green forest.
jolly, round, red mr. sun was almost ready to go down to his bed behind the purple hills.
shadows were already beginning to creep through the green forest.
somehow they gave johnny chuck that same lonesome feeling that he had had when he first left his old home.
you see he had always lived out in the green meadows and somehow he was afraid of the green forest in the night.
so, instead of going into the green forest, he wandered along the edge of it, looking for a place in which to spend the night.
at last he came to a hollow log lying just out on the edge of the green meadows.
very carefully johnny chuck examined it, to be sure that no one else was using it.
""it's just the place i'm looking for!"
he said aloud.
just then there was a sharp hiss, a very fierce hiss.
johnny chuck felt the hair on his neck rise as it always did when he heard that hiss, and he was n't at all surprised, when he turned his head, to find mr. blacksnake close by.
mr. blacksnake glided swiftly up to the old log and coiled himself in front of the opening.
then he raised his head and ran out his tongue in the most impudent way.
""run along, johnny chuck!
i've decided to sleep here myself to-night!"
he said sharply.
now when johnny chuck was a very little fellow, he had been in great fear of mr. blacksnake, as he had had reason to be.
and because he did n't know any better, he had been afraid ever since.
mr. blacksnake knew this and so now he looked as ugly as he knew how.
but you see he did n't know about the great fight that johnny chuck had just won.
now to win an honest fight always makes one feel very strong and very sure of oneself.
johnny looked at mr. blacksnake and saw that mr. blacksnake did n't look half as big as johnny had always thought he did.
he made up his mind that as he had found the old log first, he had the best right to it.
""i found it first and i'm going to keep it!"
snapped johnny chuck, and with every hair on end and gritting his teeth, he walked straight towards mr. blacksnake.
now mr. blacksnake is a great bluffer, while at heart he is really a coward.
with a fierce hiss he rushed right at johnny chuck, expecting to see him turn tail and run.
but johnny stood his ground and showed all his sharp teeth.
instead of attacking johnny, mr. blacksnake glided past him and sneaked away through the grass.
johnny chuck chuckled as he crept into the hollow log.
""only a coward runs away without fighting," he murmured sleepily.
ix another strange chuck johnny chuck awoke just as jolly, round, red mr. sun pulled his own nightcap off.
at first johnny could n't think where he was.
he blinked and blinked.
then he rolled over.
""ouch!"
cried johnny chuck.
you see he was so stiff and sore from his great fight the day before, that it hurt to roll over.
but when he felt the smart of those wounds, he remembered where he was.
he was in the old hollow log that he had found on the edge of the green meadows just before dark.
it was the first time that johnny had ever slept anywhere, excepting underground, and as he lay blinking his eyes, it seemed very strange and rather nice, too.
""well, well, well!
what are you doing here?"
cried a sharp voice.
johnny chuck looked towards the open end of the old log.
there, peeping in, was a little face as sharp as the voice.
""hello, chatterer!"
cried johnny.
""i say, what are you doing here?"
persisted chatterer the red squirrel, for it was he.
""just waking up," replied johnny, with a grin.
""it's time," replied chatterer.
""but that is n't telling me what you are doing so far from home."
""i have n't any home," said johnny, his face growing just a wee bit wistful.
""you have n't any home!"
chatterer's voice sounded as if he did n't think he had heard aright.
""what have you done with it?"
""given it to jimmy skunk," replied johnny chuck.
now chatterer never gives anything to anybody, and how any one could give away his home was more than he could understand.
he stared at johnny as if he thought johnny had gone crazy.
finally he found his tongue.
""i do n't believe it!"
he snapped.
""if jimmy skunk has got your old home, it's because he put you out of it."
""no such thing!
i'd like to see jimmy skunk or anybody else put me out of my home!"
johnny chuck spoke scornfully.
""i gave it to him because i did n't want it any longer.
i'm going to see the world, and then i'm going to build me a new home.
everybody else seems to be building new homes this spring; why should n't i?"
""i'm not!"
retorted chatterer.
""i know enough to know when i am well off.
""who has a discontented heart is sure to play a sorry part."
johnny chuck crawled out of the old log and stretched himself somewhat painfully.
""that may be, but there are different kinds of discontent.
who never looks for better things will live his life in little rings.
well, i must be moving along, if i am to see the world."
so johnny chuck bade chatterer good-by and started on.
it was very delightful to wander over the green meadows on such a beautiful spring morning.
the violets and the wind-flowers nodded to him, and the dandelions smiled up at him.
johnny almost forgot his torn clothes and the bites and scratches of his great fight with the gray old chuck the day before.
it was fun to just go where he pleased and not have a care in the world.
he was thinking of this, as he sat up to look over the green meadows.
his heart gave a great throb.
what was that over near the lone elm - tree?
it was -- yes, it certainly was another chuck!
could it be the old gray chuck come back for another fight?
a great anger filled the heart of johnny chuck, and he whistled sharply.
the strange chuck did n't answer.
johnny ground his teeth and started for the lone elm-tree.
he would show this other chuck who was master of the green meadows!
x why johnny chuck did n't fight anger is an awful thing; it never stops to reason.
it boils right over all at once, no matter what the season.
it was so with johnny chuck.
the minute he caught sight of the strange chuck over by the lone elm-tree, anger filled his heart and fairly boiled over, until he was in a terrible rage.
of course it was foolish, very foolish indeed.
the strange chuck had n't said or done anything to make johnny chuck angry, not the least thing in the world, excepting to come down on to the green meadows.
now the green meadows are very broad, and there is room for many chucks.
it was pure selfishness on the part of johnny chuck to want to drive away every other chuck.
but anger never stops to reason.
it did n't now.
johnny chuck hurried as fast as his short legs could take him towards the lone elm-tree, and in his mind was just one thought -- to drive that strange chuck off the green meadows and to punish him so that he never, never would dare even think of coming back.
so great was johnny's anger that every hair stood on end, and as he ran he chattered and scolded.
""i'll fix him!
these are my green meadows, and no one else has any business here unless i say so!
i'll fix him!
i'll fix him!"
then johnny would grind his teeth, and in his eyes was the ugliest look.
he was n't nice to see, not a bit nice.
the merry little breezes of old mother west wind did n't know what to make of him.
could this be the johnny chuck they had known so long, the good-natured, happy johnny chuck whom everybody loved?
they drew away from him, for they did n't want anything to do with any one in such a frightful temper.
but johnny chuck did n't even notice, and if he had he would n't have cared.
that is the trouble with anger.
it crowds out everything else, when it once fills the heart.
when johnny had first seen the stranger, he had thought right away that it was the old gray chuck with whom he had had such a terrible fight the day before and whom he whipped.
perhaps that was one reason for johnny chuck's terrible anger now, for the old gray chuck had tried to drive johnny chuck off the green meadows.
but when he had to stop for breath and sat up to look again, he saw that it was n't the old gray chuck at all.
it was a younger chuck and much smaller than the old gray chuck.
it was smaller than johnny himself.
""he'll be all the easier to whip," muttered johnny, as he started on again, never once thinking of how unfair it would be to fight with one smaller than himself.
that was because he was so angry.
anger never is fair.
pretty soon he reached the lone elm-tree.
the stranger was n't to be seen!
no, sir, the stranger was n't anywhere in sight.
johnny chuck sat up and looked this way and looked that way, but the stranger was nowhere in sight.
""pooh!"
said johnny chuck, "he's afraid to fight!
he's a coward.
but he ca n't get away from me so easily.
he's hiding, and i'll find him and then --" johnny did n't finish, but he ground his teeth, and it was n't a pleasant sound to hear.
so johnny chuck hunted for the stranger, and the longer he hunted the angrier he grew.
somehow the stranger managed to keep out of his sight.
he was almost ready to give up, when he almost stumbled over the stranger, hiding in a little clump of bushes.
and then a funny thing happened.
what do you think it was?
why, all the anger left johnny chuck.
his hair no longer stood on end.
he did n't know why, but all of a sudden he felt foolish, very foolish indeed.
""who are you?"
he demanded gruffly.
""i -- i'm polly chuck," replied the stranger, in a small, timid voice.
xi the greatest thing in the world johnny chuck had begun to think about his clothes.
yes, sir, he spent a whole lot of time thinking about how he looked and wishing that he had a handsomer coat.
for the first time in all his life he began to envy reddy fox, because of the beautiful red coat of which reddy is so proud.
it seemed to johnny that his own coat was so plain and so dull that no one would look at it twice.
besides, it was torn now, because of the great fight johnny had had with the old gray chuck who came down from the old pasture.
johnny smoothed it down and brushed it carefully and tried to make himself look as spick and span as he knew how.
""oh, dear!"
he sighed.
""i do n't see why old mother nature did n't give me as handsome a coat as she did reddy fox.
and there are jimmy skunk and happy jack the gray squirrel and -- and -- why, almost every one has a handsomer coat than i have!"
now this was n't at all like johnny chuck.
first he had been discontented with his house and had given it to jimmy skunk.
now he was discontented with his clothes.
what was coming over johnny chuck?
he really did n't know himself.
at least, he would n't have admitted that he knew.
but right down deep in his heart was a great desire -- the desire to have polly chuck admire him.
yes, sir, that is what it was!
and it seemed to him that she would admire him a great deal more if he wore fine clothes.
you see, he had n't learned yet what peter rabbit had learned a long time ago, which is that fine clothes but catch the passing eye; fine deeds win love from low and high.
so johnny chuck wished and wished that he had a handsome suit, but as he did n't, and no amount of wishing would bring him one, he just made the one he did have look as good as he could, and then went in search of polly chuck.
sometimes she would not notice him at all.
sometimes he would find her shyly peeping at him from behind a clump of grass.
then johnny chuck would try to make himself look very important, and would strut about as if he really did own the green meadows.
sometimes she would hide from him, and when he found her she would run away.
other times she would be just as nice to him as she could be, and they would have a jolly time hunting for sweet clover and other nice things to eat.
then johnny chuck's heart would swell until it seemed to him that it would fairly burst with happiness.
instead of wanting to drive polly chuck away from the green meadows, as he had the old gray chuck, johnny began to worry for fear that polly chuck might not stay on the green meadows.
whenever he thought of that, his heart would sink way, way down, and he would hurry to look for her and make sure that she was still there.
when he was beside her, he felt very big and strong and brave and longed for a chance to show her how brave he was.
she was such a timid little thing herself that the least little thing frightened her, and johnny chuck was glad that this was so, for it gave him a chance to protect her.
when he was n't with her, he spent his time looking for new patches of sweet clover to take her to.
at first she would n't go without a great deal of coaxing, but after a while he did n't have to coax at all.
she seemed to delight to be with him as much as he did to be with her.
so johnny chuck grew happier and happier.
he was happier than he had ever been in all his life before.
you see johnny chuck had found the greatest thing in the world.
do you know what it is?
it is called love.
xii johnny chuck proves his love these spring days were beautiful days on the green meadows.
it seemed to johnny chuck that the green meadows never had been so lovely or the songs of the birds so sweet.
he had forgotten all about his old friends, jimmy skunk and peter rabbit and the other little meadow people.
you see, he could n't think of anybody but polly chuck, and he did n't want to be with anybody but polly chuck.
he had even forgotten that he had started out to see the world.
he did n't care anything more about the world.
all he wanted was to be where polly chuck was.
then he was perfectly happy.
that was because johnny chuck had found the greatest thing in the world, which is love.
but johnny still had one great wish, the wish that he might show polly chuck just how brave and strong he was and how well he could take care of her.
one morning they were feasting in a patch of sweet clover over near an old stone wall.
it was the same stone wall in which johnny chuck had escaped from old whitetail the marshhawk, when johnny was a very little fellow.
suddenly polly gave a little scream of fright.
johnny chuck looked up to see a dog almost upon her.
johnny's first thought was to run to the old stone wall.
he was nearer to it than polly was.
then he saw that that dreadful dog would catch polly before she could reach the stone wall.
a great rage filled johnny's heart, just as it had when he had fought the old gray chuck.
every hair stood on end, not with fear, but with anger, and he sprang in front of polly.
""run, polly, run!"
he cried, and polly ran.
but johnny did n't run.
oh, my, no!
johnny did n't run.
he drew himself together ready to spring.
he showed all his sharp teeth and ground them savagely.
little sparks of fire seemed to snap out of his eyes.
there was no sign of fear in johnny chuck then, not the least little bit.
just in front of him the dog stopped and barked.
he was a little dog, a young and foolish dog, and he was terribly excited.
he barked until he almost lost his breath.
he did n't like the looks of johnny chuck's sharp teeth.
so he circled around johnny, trying to get behind him.
but johnny turned as the dog circled, and always the little dog found those sharp teeth directly in front of him.
he barked and barked, until it seemed as if he would bark his head off.
finally the little dog, who was young and foolish, grew tired of just dancing around and barking.
""pooh!"
said he to himself.
""he's nothing but a chuck!"
then he stopped barking and sprang straight at johnny with an ugly growl.
johnny chuck was ready for him and he was quicker than the little dog.
his sharp teeth closed on one of the little dog's ears, and he held on while with his stout claws he scratched and tore.
the little dog, who was young and foolish and had n't yet learned how to fight, could n't get hold of johnny chuck anywhere.
then he tried to shake johnny chuck off, but he could n't, because johnny held on to that ear with his sharp teeth.
""kiyi-yi-yi-yi!"
yelled the little dog, for those teeth hurt dreadfully.
""kiyi-yi-yi-yi!"
over and over they rolled and tumbled, the little dog trying to get away, and johnny chuck holding on to the little dog's ear.
finally johnny had to let go to get his breath.
the little dog sprang to his feet and started for home across the green meadows as fast as he could run.
johnny chuck shook himself and grinned, as he heard the little dog's "kiyi-yi-yi" grow fainter and fainter.
""i'm glad it was n't bowser the hound," muttered johnny chuck, as he started towards the old stone wall.
there he found polly chuck peeping out at him, and all of a tremble with fright.
""my, how brave you are!"
said polly chuck.
""pooh, that's nothing!"
replied johnny chuck.
xiii polly and johnny chuck go house hunting johnny chuck was happy.
yes, sir, johnny chuck was happy -- so happy that he felt like doing foolish things.
you see johnny chuck loved polly chuck and he knew now that polly chuck loved him.
he had known it ever since he had fought with the foolish little dog who had dared to frighten polly chuck.
after the fight was over, and the little dog had been sent home kiyi - yi-ing, polly chuck had crept out of the old stone wall where she had been hiding and snuggled up beside johnny chuck and looked at him as if she thought him the most wonderful chuck in all the world, as, indeed, she did.
and johnny had felt his heart swell and swell with happiness until it almost choked him.
so now once more johnny chuck began to think of a new home.
he had forgotten all about seeing the world.
all he wanted now was a new house, built just so, with a front door and a hidden back door, and big enough for two, for no more would johnny chuck live alone.
so, with shy little polly chuck by his side, he began to search for a place to make a new home.
the more he thought about it, the more johnny wanted to build his house over by the lone elm-tree where he had first seen polly chuck.
it was a splendid place.
from it you could see a great way in every direction.
it would be shady on hot summer days.
it was near a great big patch of sweet clover.
it seemed to johnny chuck that it was the best place on all the green meadows.
he whispered as much to polly chuck.
she turned up her nose.
""it's too low!"
said she.
""oh!"
replied johnny, and looked puzzled, for really it was one of the highest places on the green meadows.
""yes," said polly, in a brisk, decided way, "it's altogether too low.
probably it is wet."
""oh!"
said johnny once more.
of course he knew that it was n't wet, but if polly did n't want to live there, he would n't say a word.
of course not.
""now there's a place right over there," continued polly.
""i think we'll build our house right there."
johnny opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it again without speaking and meekly trotted after polly chuck to the place she had picked out.
it was in a little hollow.
johnny knew before he began to dig that the ground was damp, almost wet.
but if polly wanted to live there she should, and johnny began to dig.
by and by he stopped to rest.
where was polly?
he looked this way and that way anxiously.
just as he was getting ready to go hunt for her, she came hurrying back.
-lsb- illustration: if polly wanted to live there she should -rsb- "i've found a perfectly lovely place for our new home!"
she cried.
johnny looked ruefully at the hole he had worked so hard to dig; then he brushed the dirt from his clothes and followed her.
this time johnny had no fault to find with the ground.
it was high and dry.
but polly had chosen a spot close to a road that wound down across the green meadows.
johnny shook his head doubtfully, but he began to dig.
this time, however, he kept one eye on polly chuck, and the minute he found that she was wandering off, he stopped digging and chuckled as he watched her.
it was n't long before back she came in great excitement.
she had found a better place!
so they wandered over the green meadows, polly leading the way.
johnny had learned by this time to waste no time digging.
and he had made up his mind to one thing.
what do you think it was?
it was this: he would follow polly until she found a place to suit him, but when she did find such a place she should n't have a chance to change her mind again.
xiv a new home at last home, no matter where it be, or it be big or small, is just the one place in the world that dearest is of all.
johnny chuck was thinking of this as he worked with might and main.
it was a new house that he was building, but already he felt that it was home, and every time he thought of it he felt a queer little tugging at his heart.
you see, while it was his home, it was polly chuck's home, too, and that made it doubly dear to johnny chuck, even before it was finished.
and where do you think johnny was building his new home?
it was clear way over on the edge of farmer brown's old orchard!
yes, sir, after all the fuss johnny chuck had made over any other chuck living on the green meadows, and after driving the old gray chuck back to the old pasture, johnny chuck had left the green meadows himself!
it was n't of his own accord that johnny chuck had left the green meadows.
no, indeed!
he loved them too well for that.
but he loved polly chuck more, and although he had grumbled a little, he had followed her up to the old orchard, and now they were going to stay there.
sometimes johnny shivered when he thought how near were farmer brown and farmer brown's boy and bowser the hound.
he had never been so far from his old home on the green meadows before, and it was all very strange up here.
it was very lovely, too.
besides, it was in this very old orchard that polly chuck had been born, and she knew every part of it.
johnny felt better when he found that out.
so he set to work to build a home, and this time he meant business.
polly chuck could change her mind as many times as she pleased; that was going to be their home and that was where they were going to live.
now johnny chuck had grown wise in the ways of the world since he first ran away from the home where he was born.
twice since then he had built a new home, and now this would be better than either of the others.
he paid no heed to polly, when she pouted because he did not dig where she wanted him to.
he went from tree to tree, big old apple - trees they were, and at the very last tree, way down in a corner near a tumbled-down stone wall, he found what he wanted -- two spreading roots gave him a chance to dig between them.
polly watched him get ready for work and she pouted some more.
""it would be a lot nicer out in that grassy place, and a lot easier to dig," said she.
johnny chuck smiled and made the dirt fly.
""it certainly would be easier to dig," said he, when he stopped for breath, "easier for me and easier for bowser the hound or for old granny fox, if either wanted to dig us out.
now, these old roots are just far enough apart for us to go in and out.
they make a beautiful doorway.
but bowser the hound can not get through if he tries, and he ca n't make our doorway any larger.
do n't you see how safe it is?"
polly chuck had to own up that it was safer than a home in the open could possibly be, and johnny went on digging.
he made a long hall down to the snuggest of bedrooms, deep, deep down under ground.
then he made a long back hall, and all the sand from this he carried out the front way.
by and by he made a back door at the end of the back hall, and it opened right behind a big stone fallen from the old stone wall.
you would never have guessed that there was a back door there.
his new house was finished now, and johnny chuck and polly chuck sat on the door-step and watched jolly, round, red mr. sun go to bed behind the purple hills and were happy.
xv sammy jay finds the new home johnny chuck was missed from his old home on the green meadows.
if he had known how much he was missed, he certainly would have tried to go back for at least a call on his old neighbors.
there had been great surprise when it had been discovered that jimmy skunk was living in johnny's old house, and at first some of the little meadow people were inclined to look at jimmy a wee bit distrustfully when he told how johnny chuck had given away his house.
when johnny sent back word by the merry little breezes that it was true, they believed jimmy skunk and forgot the unpleasant things that they had begun to hint at about him.
but they one and all thought that johnny chuck must be crazy.
yes, sir, they thought that johnny chuck must be crazy.
they were sure of it when the merry little breezes brought word of how johnny had started out to see the world.
but everybody was so busy about their own affairs in the beautiful bright spring-time that they could n't spend much time wondering about johnny chuck.
they missed him every time they passed his old house and then forgot him; that is, most of the little meadow people did.
peter rabbit did n't.
peter used to stop every day to gossip with johnny chuck and tell him all the news, and now that johnny chuck was no longer there, peter missed him greatly.
jimmy skunk was always asleep or off somewhere.
besides, he was such a traveler that he knew all the news almost as soon as peter himself.
the merry little breezes told peter that johnny chuck was still on the green meadows, hunting for a new home, so peter made up his mind that just as soon as johnny got settled, peter would hunt him up and call.
you see, he never dreamed that johnny would leave the green meadows, and he thought that of course the merry little breezes would tell him just where johnny chuck's new house was, whenever it was built.
but there is where peter made a mistake.
the merry little breezes are the friends of all the little meadow and forest people, but they would n't be very long if they told everything that they find out.
their merry tongues they guard full well and things they should n't never tell, for long ago they learned the way to keep a secret night and day.
and so when they found johnny chuck's new house in the corner of farmer brown's old orchard, they promised johnny that they would n't tell anybody, and they did n't.
so it was a long time before any one else found out what had become of johnny chuck, for no one thought of looking in the corner of the old orchard.
the merry little breezes used to come every day and bring johnny chuck the news, and he and polly chuck would laugh and tickle, as they thought of peter rabbit hunting and hunting and never finding them.
then one morning, as johnny chuck sat on his door-step, half dozing in the sun with his heart filled with contentment, he happened to look up straight into two sharp eyes peering down at him from among the leaves of the apple-tree under which he had built his house.
he knew those eyes.
they were such sharp eyes that they were unpleasant.
he did n't even have to look for the blue and white coat of the owner to know who had found his snug home.
but he pretended to keep right on dozing, and pretty soon the owner of the eyes disappeared without making a sound.
""oh, dear," sighed johnny chuck, "now the whole world will know where we live, for that was sammy jay."
then his face brightened as he added: "anyway, he did n't see polly chuck, and he does n't know anything about her, so i'll keep twice as sharp a watch as before."
xvi sammy jay plans mischief mischief may not mean to be really truly bad, but somehow it seems to make other people sad; does a mean unpleasant thing and tries to think it fun; then, alas, it runs away when trouble has begun.
of all the little people who live in the green forest and on the green meadows, none is more mischievous than sammy jay.
it seems sometimes as if there was more mischief under that pert little cap sammy jay wears than in the heads of all the other little meadow and forest people put together.
when he is n't actually in mischief, sammy jay is planning mischief.
you see it has grown to be a habit with sammy jay, and habits, especially bad habits, have a way of growing and growing.
now sammy jay had no quarrel with johnny chuck.
oh, my, no!
he would have told you that he liked johnny chuck.
everybody likes johnny chuck.
but just as soon as sammy jay found johnny chuck's new house, he began to plan mischief.
he did n't really want any harm to come to johnny chuck, but he wanted to make johnny uncomfortable.
that is sammy jay's idea of fun -- seeing somebody else uncomfortable.
so he slipped away to a thick hemlock-tree in the green forest to try to think of some plan to tease johnny chuck and make him uncomfortable.
of course he knew that johnny had hidden his new house in the corner of farmer brown's old orchard because he wanted it to be a secret.
he did n't know why johnny wanted it a secret and he did n't care.
if johnny wanted it a secret, it would be fun to tell everybody about it.
as he sat wondering who he should tell first; he saw reddy fox trotting down the lone little path.
""hi, reddy fox!"
he shouted.
reddy looked up.
""hello, sammy jay!
what have you got on your mind this morning?"
said reddy.
""nothing much," replied sammy jay.
""what's the news?"
reddy grinned.
""there is n't any news," said he.
""i was just going to ask you the same thing."
it was sammy jay's turn to grin, "just as if i could tell you any news, reddy fox!
just as if i could tell you any news!"
he exclaimed.
""why, everybody knows that you are so smart that you find out everything as soon as it happens."
reddy fox felt flattered.
you know people who do a great deal of flattering themselves are often the very easiest to flatter if you know how.
reddy pretended to be very modest; but no one likes to be thought smart and important more than reddy fox does, and it pleased him greatly that sammy jay should think him so smart that no one could tell him any news.
sammy knew this perfectly well, and he chuckled to himself as he watched reddy fox pretending to be so modest.
""have you called on johnny chuck at his new home yet?"
asked sammy jay, in the most matter-of-fact way.
""no," replied reddy, "but i mean to, soon."
he said this just as if he knew all about johnny chuck's new home, when all the time he had n't the remotest idea in the world where it was.
in fact he had hunted and hunted for it, but had n't found a trace of it.
and all the time sammy jay knew that reddy did n't know where it was.
but sammy did n't let on that he knew.
""i just happened to be up in farmer brown's old orchard this morning, so i thought i'd pay johnny chuck a call," said sammy, and chuckled as he saw reddy's ears prick up.
""by the way, he thinks you do n't know where he lives now."
""huh!"
said reddy fox.
""as if johnny chuck could fool me!
well, i must be moving along.
good-by, sammy jay."
reddy trotted off towards the green meadows, but the minute he was out of sight of sammy jay, he turned towards farmer brown's old orchard, just as sammy jay had known he would.
""i guess johnny chuck will have a visitor," chuckled sammy jay, as he started to look for jimmy skunk.
xvii more mischief mischief's like a snowball sent rolling down a hill; with every turn it bigger grows and bigger, bigger still.
sammy jay had started mischief by telling reddy fox where johnny chuck's new house was.
if you had asked him, sammy jay would have said that he had n't told.
all he had said was that he had happened to be up in farmer brown's old orchard and so had called on johnny chuck in his new house.
now reddy fox is very sly, oh, very sly.
he had pretended to sammy jay that he knew all the time where johnny chuck was living.
when he left sammy jay, he had started in the direction of the green meadows, just as if he had no thought of going over to farmer brown's old orchard.
but sammy jay is just as sly as reddy fox.
he was n't fooled for one minute, not one little minute.
he chuckled to himself as he started to look for jimmy skunk.
then he changed his mind.
""i think i'll go up to the old orchard myself!"
said sammy jay, and away he flew.
he got there first and hid in the top of a big apple-tree, where he could see all that went on.
it was n't long before he saw reddy fox steal out from the green forest and over to the old orchard.
reddy was nervous, very nervous.
you see, it was broad daylight, and the old orchard was very near farmer brown's house.
reddy knew that he ought to have waited until night, but he knew that then johnny chuck would be fast asleep, now, perhaps, johnny chuck, thinking that no one knew where he lived, would not be on watch, and he might be able to catch johnny.
so reddy, with one eye on farmer brown's house and one eye on the watch for some sign of johnny chuck, stole into the old orchard.
every few steps he would stop and look and listen.
at every little noise he would start nervously.
then sammy jay would chuckle under his breath.
so reddy fox crept and tiptoed about through the old orchard.
every minute he grew more nervous, and every minute he grew more disappointed, for he could find no sign of johnny chuck's house.
he began to think that sammy jay had fooled him, and the very thought made him grind his teeth.
at last he decided to give it up.
he was down in the far corner of the old orchard, close by the old stone wall now, and he got all ready to jump over the old stone wall, when he just happened to look on the other side of the big apple-tree he was under, and there was what he was looking for -- johnny chuck's new house!
johnny chuck was n't in sight, but there was the new house, and johnny must be either inside or not far away.
reddy grinned.
it was a sly, wicked, hungry grin.
he flattened himself out in the grass behind the big apple-tree.
""i'll give johnny chuck the surprise of his life!"
muttered reddy fox under his breath.
now sammy jay had been watching all this time.
he knew that johnny chuck was safely inside his house, for johnny had seen reddy when he first came into the old orchard.
and sammy knew that johnny chuck knew that when reddy found that new house, he would hide just as he had done.
""johnny chuck wo n't come out again to-day, and there wo n't be any excitement at all," thought sammy jay in disappointment, for he had hoped to see a fight between reddy fox and johnny chuck.
just then sammy looked over to farmer brown's house, and there was farmer brown's boy getting ready to saw wood.
the imp of mischief under sammy's pert cap gave him an idea.
he flew over to the old apple-tree, just over reddy's head, and began to scream at the top of his lungs.
farmer brown's boy stopped work and looked over towards the old orchard.
""when a jay screams like that there is usually a fox around," he muttered, as he unfastened bowser the hound.
xviii farmer brown's boy makes a discovery reddy fox glared up at sammy jay.
""what's the matter with you?"
snarled reddy fox.
""why do n't you mind your own affairs, instead of making trouble for other people?"
you see, reddy was afraid that johnny chuck would hear sammy jay and take warning.
""hello, reddy fox!
i thought you had gone down to the green meadows!"
sammy said this as if he was very much surprised to see reddy there.
he was n't, for you know he had been watching reddy hunt for johnny chuck's new house, but reddy had pretended that he was going down to the green meadows early that morning, and so now sammy pretended that he had thought that reddy really had gone.
""i changed my mind!"
he snapped.
""what are you screaming so for?"
""just to exercise my lungs, so as to be sure that i can scream when i want to," replied sammy, screaming still louder.
""well, go somewhere else and scream; i want to sleep," said reddy crossly.
now sammy jay knew perfectly well that reddy fox had no thought of taking a nap but was hiding there to try to catch johnny chuck.
and sammy knew that farmer brown's boy could hear him scream, and that he knew that when sammy screamed that way it meant there was a fox about.
sitting in the top of the apple-tree, sammy could see farmer brown's boy starting for the old orchard, with bowser the hound running ahead of him.
farmer brown's boy had no gun, so sammy knew that no harm would come to reddy, but that reddy would get a dreadful scare; and that is what sammy wanted, just out of pure mischief.
so he screamed louder than ever.
reddy fox lost his temper.
he sat up and called sammy jay all the bad names he could think of.
he forgot where he was.
he told sammy jay what he thought of him and what he would do to him if ever he caught him.
sammy jay kept right on screaming.
he made such a noise that reddy did n't hear footsteps coming nearer and nearer.
suddenly there was a great roar right behind him.
""bow, wow, wow!
bow, wow, wow, wow!"
-- just like that.
reddy was so frightened that he did n't even look to see where he was jumping, and bumped his head against the apple-tree.
then he started for the green forest, with bowser the hound at his heels.
sammy jay laughed till he lost his breath and nearly tumbled off his perch.
then he flew away, still laughing.
he thought it the greatest joke ever.
farmer brown's boy had followed bowser the hound into the old orchard.
""i wonder what a fox was doing up here in broad daylight," said he, talking to himself.
""perhaps one of my hens has stolen her nest down here, and he has found it.
i'll have a look, anyway."
so he walked on down to the far corner of the old orchard, straight to the place from which he had seen reddy fox jump.
when he got there, of course he saw johnny chuck's new house right away.
""ho!"
cried farmer brown's boy.
""brer fox was hunting chucks.
i'll keep my eye on this, and if mr. chuck makes any trouble in my garden, i'll know where to catch him."
xix johnny chuck's pride ever since farmer brown's boy and reddy fox had found his new house in the far corner of the old orchard, johnny chuck had been worried.
it was not that he was afraid for himself.
oh, my, no!
johnny chuck felt perfectly able to take care of himself.
but there was polly chuck!
he was terribly afraid that something might happen to polly chuck.
you see she was not big and strong like him, and then polly chuck was apt to be careless.
so for a while johnny chuck worried a great deal.
but reddy fox did n't come again in daytime.
you see bowser the hound had given him such a scare that he did n't dare to.
he sometimes came at night and sniffed hungrily at johnny chuck's doorway, but johnny and polly were safe inside, and this did n't trouble them a bit.
and farmer brown's boy seemed to have forgotten all about the new house.
so after a while johnny chuck stopped worrying so much.
the fact is johnny chuck had something else to think about.
he had a secret.
yes, sir, johnny chuck had a secret.
sammy jay came up to the old orchard almost every morning.
his sharp eyes were not long in finding out that johnny chuck had a secret, but try as he would he could not find out what that secret was.
whatever it was, it made johnny chuck very happy.
he would come out on his doorstep and smile and sometimes give a funny little whistle of pure joy.
it puzzled sammy jay a great deal.
he could n't see why johnny chuck should be any happier than he ever was.
to be sure it was a happy time of year.
everybody was happy, for it was spring-time, and the green forest and the green meadows, even the old pasture, were very lovely.
but somehow sammy jay felt sure that it was something more than this, a secret that johnny chuck was keeping all to himself, that was making him so happy.
but what it was, sammy jay could n't imagine.
he spent so much time thinking about it and wondering what it could be, that it actually kept him out of mischief.
one morning johnny chuck came out, looking happier than ever.
he chuckled and chuckled as only a happy chuck can.
then he did foolish things.
he kicked up his heels.
he rolled over and over in the grass.
he whistled.
he even tried to sing, which is something no chuck can do or should ever try to do.
then suddenly he scrambled to his feet, carefully brushed his coat, and tried to look very dignified.
he strutted back and forth in front of his doorway, as if he was very proud of something.
there was pride in the very way in which he took each step.
there was pride in the very way in which he held his head.
it was too much for sammy jay.
""what are you so proud about, johnny chuck?"
he demanded, in his harsh voice, "if i did n't have a better looking coat than you've got, i would n't put on airs!"
you know sammy jay is very proud of his own handsome blue and white coat and dearly loves to show it off.
""it is n't that," said johnny chuck.
""well, if it is because you think yourself so smart to hide yourself up here in the old orchard, let me tell you that i found you out long ago, and so did reddy fox, and bowser the hound, and farmer brown's boy," sneered sammy jay in the most disagreeable way.
""it is n't that," said johnny chuck.
""well, what is it, then?"
snapped sammy jay.
""that's for you to find out," replied johnny chuck.
""there's foolish pride and silly pride and pride of low degree; a better pride is honest pride, and that's the pride for me."
and with that, johnny chuck disappeared in his new house.
xx sammy jay understands it was a beautiful morning.
jolly, round, red mr. sun had thrown his bedclothes off very early and started to climb up the sky, smiling his broadest.
old mother west wind had swept his path clear of clouds.
the merry little breezes, who, you know, are mother west wind's children, had danced across the green meadows up to the old orchard, where they pelted each other with white and pink petals of apple blossoms until the ground was covered.
each apple-tree was like a huge bouquet of loveliness.
yes, indeed, it was very beautiful that spring morning.
sammy jay had gotten up almost as early as mr. sun and old mother west wind.
as soon as he had swallowed his breakfast, he flew up to the old orchard and hid among the white and pink apple blossoms to watch for johnny chuck.
you see, he knew that johnny chuck had some sort of a secret which filled johnny with very great pride; but what it was sammy jay could n't even guess, and nothing troubles sammy jay quite so much as the feeling that he can not find out the secrets of other people.
so he sat very, very still among the apple blossoms and waited and watched.
by and by johnny chuck appeared on his doorstep.
he seemed very much excited, did johnny chuck.
he sat up very straight and looked this way and looked that way.
he looked up in the apple-trees, and sammy jay held his breath, for fear that johnny would see him.
but sammy was so well hidden that, bright as johnny chuck's eyes are, they failed to see him.
then johnny chuck actually climbed up on the old stone wall so as to see better, and he sat there a long time, looking and looking.
sammy jay grew impatient.
""he seems to be terribly watchful this morning.
i never knew him to be so watchful before.
i do n't understand it," muttered sammy to himself.
after a while johnny chuck seemed quite satisfied that there was no one about.
he hopped down from the old stone wall and scampered over to the doorway of his new house, and there he began to chatter.
sammy jay stretched his neck until it ached, trying to hear what johnny chuck was saying, but he could n't because johnny's head was inside his doorway.
pretty soon johnny chuck backed out and sat up, and he looked very proud and important.
then sammy jay saw something that nearly took his breath away.
it was the head of polly chuck peeping out of the doorway.
it was the first time that he had seen polly chuck.
""why," gasped sammy jay, "it must be that johnny chuck has a mate, and i did n't know a thing about it!
so that's his secret and the reason he has appeared so proud lately!"
polly chuck came out on the doorstep.
she looked just as proud as johnny chuck, and at the same time she seemed terribly anxious.
she sat up beside johnny chuck, and she looked this way and that way, just as johnny had.
then she put her head in at the doorway and began to call in the softest voice.
in a minute sammy jay saw something more.
it surprised him so that he nearly lost his balance.
it was another head peeping out of the doorway, a head just like johnny chuck's, only it was a teeny-weeny one.
then there was another and another!
polly kept talking and talking in the softest voice, while johnny chuck swelled himself up until he looked as if he would burst with pride.
sammy jay understood now why johnny chuck had been so proud for the last few days.
it was because he had a family!
sammy looked down at the three little chucks sitting on the doorstep, trying to sit up the way johnny chuck sat, and they looked so funny that sammy forgot himself and laughed right out loud.
in a flash the three little chucks and polly chuck had disappeared inside the house, while johnny chuck looked up angrily.
he knew that his secret was a secret no longer.
xxi sammy jay has a change of heart there's no one ever quite so bad that somewhere way down deep inside a little goodness does not find a place wherein to creep and hide.
it is so with sammy jay.
yes, sir, it is so with sammy jay.
you may think that because sammy jay is vain, a trouble-maker and a thief, he is all bad.
he is n't.
there is some good in sammy jay, just as there is some good in everybody.
if there was n't, old mother nature never, never would allow sammy jay to go his mischievous way through the green forest.
he dearly loves to get other people into all kinds of trouble, and this is one reason why nobody loves him.
but if you watch out sharp enough, you will find that hidden under that beautiful blue and white coat of his there really is some good.
you may have to look a long time for it, but sooner or later you will find it.
johnny chuck did.
sammy jay had already made a lot of trouble for johnny chuck.
you see he had been the first of the little forest and meadow people to find johnny chuck's new house.
and then, just to make trouble for johnny chuck, he had told reddy fox about it, and after that he had called bowser the hound and farmer brown's boy over to it.
now he had discovered johnny chuck's greatest secret -- that johnny had a family.
what a chance to make trouble now!
sammy started for the green forest as fast as his wings could take him.
he would tell reddy fox and redtail the hawk.
they were very fond of young chucks.
it would be great fun to see the fright of johnny chuck and his family when reddy fox or redtail the hawk appeared.
sammy jay chuckled wickedly as he flew.
when he reached the green forest and stopped in his favorite hemlock-tree to rest, he was still chuckling.
but by that time it was a different kind of a chuckle.
yes, sir, it was a different kind of a chuckle.
it was a better chuckle to hear.
the fact is, sammy jay was no longer chuckling over the thought of the trouble he could make.
he was laughing at the memory of how funny those three little baby chucks had looked sitting up on johnny chuck's doorstep and trying to do whatever johnny chuck did.
the more he thought about it, the more he tickled and laughed.
right in the midst of his laughter along came redtail the hawk.
sammy jay opened his mouth to call to redtail and tell him about johnny chuck's secret.
then he closed it again with a snap.
""i wo n't tell him yet," said sammy to himself, "for he might catch one of those baby chucks, and they are such funny little fellows that that would really be too bad.
i guess i'll wait a while."
and with that, off flew sammy jay to hunt for some other mischief.
you see, he had had a change of heart.
the little goodness way down deep inside had come out of hiding.
but of course johnny chuck did n't know this, and over in his new house in the far corner of the old orchard, he and polly chuck were worrying and worrying, for they felt sure that now every one would know their secret, and it would n't be safe for the dear little baby chucks to so much as put their funny little noses outside the door.
xxii johnny chuck is kept busy johnny chuck is naturally lazy.
you see, johnny has very simple tastes and usually he is contented.
he does not have to go far from his own doorstep to get all he wants to eat.
he does not have to hunt for his food, as so many of the little meadow and forest people do, and so he has a great deal of time to sit on his doorstep and watch the world go by and dream pleasant daydreams and grow fat.
now people who do not have to work usually become lazy.
it is the easiest habit in the world to learn and the hardest to get over.
and so, because he seldom has to work, johnny chuck quite naturally is lazy.
but johnny can work when there really is need of it.
no one, unless it is digger the badger or miner the mole, can dig faster than johnny chuck.
and when there is real need of working, johnny works with a will.
when he was a very tiny chuck, old mother chuck had taught him this: "when work there is that must be done do n't fret and whine and spoil the day!
the quicker that you do your work the longer time you'll have to play."
johnny never has forgotten this, and when it is really necessary that he should work, no one works harder than he does.
but he always first makes sure that it is necessary work and that he will not be wasting his time in doing foolish, unnecessary things.
and now johnny chuck was the busiest he had ever been in all his life.
if he felt lazy these beautiful spring days, he did n't have time to think about it.
no, sir, he actually did n't have time to remember that he is naturally lazy.
you see, he had a family to look out for -- three babies to find sweet, tender young clover for and to teach all the things that every chuck should know, and to watch out for, that no harm should come to them.
so johnny chuck was busy, so busy that he hardly had time to get enough to eat.
every morning johnny would come out as soon as jolly, round, red mr. sun began his daily climb up in the blue, blue sky.
he would look this way and look that way to make sure that reddy fox or granny fox or redtail the hawk or bowser the hound or any other danger was nowhere near.
and he never forgot to look up in the apple-trees to make sure that sammy jay was not there.
then he would call to polly chuck and the three baby chucks.
polly chuck would come out with a very worried air, and after her would come the three funny little baby chucks, who would roll and tumble over each other on the doorstep.
when he thought they had played enough, johnny chuck would lead the way along a little private path which he had made through the grass.
after him, one behind another, would trot the three little chucks, and behind them would march polly chuck, to see that none went astray.
when they reached the patch of tender, sweet, young clover, johnny chuck would sit up very straight and still, watching as sharp as he knew how for the least sign of danger.
when the three little stomachs were full of sweet, tender, young clover, he would proudly lead the way home again, and then as before he would sit up very straight and watch for danger, while the three baby chucks sprawledout on the doorstep for a sun-nap.
oh, those were busy days for johnny chuck, and anxious days, too!
you see he had not forgotten that sammy jay had found out his secret, and he had n't the least doubt in the world that sammy jay would tell reddy fox.
so, from the first thing in the morning until the very last thing at night, johnny chuck was on the watch for danger.
and all the time, though johnny did n't know it, a pair of sharp eyes were watching him from a snug hiding-place in one of the old apple - trees.
whose were they?
why, sammy jay's, to be sure.
you see, sammy jay had n't told johnny chuck's great secret, after all.
xxiii the school in the old orchard little foxes, little chucks, little squirrels, mice and mink, just like little boys and girls, go to school to learn to think.
you did n't know that, did you?
well, it's a fact.
yes, sir, it's a fact.
all the babies born in the green forest or on the green meadows or around the smiling pool have to go to school just as soon as they are big enough to leave their own doorsteps.
they go to the greatest school in the world, and it is called the school of experience.
old mother nature has charge of it, but the teachers usually are father and mother for the first few weeks, anyway.
after that old mother nature herself gives them a few lessons, and a very stern teacher she is.
they just have to learn her lessons.
if they do n't, something dreadful is almost sure to happen.
of course sammy jay knew all this, because he had had to go to school when he was a little fellow.
so sammy was not much surprised when, from his snug hiding-place in one of the old apple-trees, he discovered that there was a school in farmer brown's old orchard.
johnny chuck was the teacher and his three baby chucks were the pupils.
sammy jay was so interested in that funny little school in the old orchard that he quite forgot to think about mischief.
the very first lesson that the three little chucks had to learn was obedience.
johnny chuck was very particular about that.
you see he knew that unless they learned this first of all, none of the other lessons would do them much good.
they must first learn to mind instantly, without asking questions.
dear me, dear me, johnny chuck certainly did have his hands full, teaching those three little chucks to mind!
they were such lively little chaps, and there was so much that was new and wonderful to see, that it was dreadfully hard work to sit perfectly still, just because johnny chuck told them to.
but if they did n't mind instantly, they were sure to have their ears soundly boxed, and sometimes were sent back to the house without a taste of the sweet, tender, young clover of which they were so fond.
after a few lessons of this kind, they found out that it was always best to obey instantly, and then johnny began to teach them other things, things which it is very important that every chuck should know.
first, there were signals.
when johnny whistled a certain way, it meant "a stranger in sight; possible danger!"
then each little chuck would sit up very straight and not move the teeniest, weeniest bit, so that from a little distance they looked for all the world like tiny stumps.
but all the time their sharp little eyes would be looking this way and that way, to see what the danger might be.
after a while johnny would give another little whistle, which meant "danger past."
then they would once more begin to fill their little stomachs with sweet, tender, young clover.
sometimes, however, johnny would whistle sharply.
that meant "run!"
then they would scamper as fast as they could along the nearest little path to the house under the old apple-tree in the far corner, and never once look around.
they would dive head first, one after the other, in at the doorway, and not show their noses outside again until johnny or polly chuck told them they could.
then there was a still different whistle.
it meant "danger very near; lie low!"
when they heard that, they flattened themselves right down in the grass just wherever they happened to be, and held their breath and did n't move until johnny signaled that they might.
of course, there never was any real danger.
johnny was just teaching them, so that when danger did come, as it surely would, sooner or later, they would know just what to do.
it surely was a funny little school, and sometimes sammy jay had hard work to keep from laughing right out.
xxiv sammy jay proves that he is not all bad sammy jay had n't had so much fun for a long time as he found in watching the funny little school in farmer brown's old orchard, where johnny chuck was teaching his three baby chucks the things that every little chuck must learn, if he would grow up into a big chuck.
when they had learned to mind without waiting to ask why, and had learned the signals which told them just what to do when danger was near, johnny began to lead them farther and farther away from home.
he took them up along the old stone wall and showed them how to find safe hiding-places among the stones.
then he took them off a little way and suddenly gave the danger signal.
it was funny, very funny indeed to see the three little chucks scamper for the old stone wall and crawl out of sight.
the first time, two of them tried to squeeze into the same hole together, and each was in such a hurry that he would n't let the other go first.
then both lost their tempers and they began to fight about it, quite forgetting that if there was really any danger near, they surely would come to harm.
such a scolding as johnny chuck did give those two little chucks!
then he made them try it all over again.
once he found a foot print which reddy fox had made in some soft earth during the night, and made each little chuck smell of it, while he told them all about reddy and old granny fox and how smart and sly they were and how very, very fond they were of tender young chucks for dinner.
the three little chucks shivered when they smelled of reddy's track, and the hair along their backs stood up in a way that was very funny to see.
then johnny chuck took them over to the edge of the old orchard, where they could peep out over the green meadows.
he pointed out old whitetail the marshhawk, sailing back and forth over the meadows, and told them how once, when he was a little chuck and had run away from home, old whitetail had nearly caught him.
he told them about farmer brown's boy and about bowser the hound and a great many other things that little chucks should learn about.
now all the time that johnny chuck was teaching these things, he was keeping the sharpest kind of a watch for danger, and there were many times when he would give the danger signal.
then they would all lie flat down in the grass and keep perfectly still, or else scamper as fast as they could along the little paths which johnny had made, to the safety of the snug home under the old apple-tree.
but even the most watchful are surprised sometimes.
one morning, when johnny chuck had led the three little chucks farther from home than usual, farmer brown's boy took it into his head to visit the old orchard.
johnny chuck did not see him coming.
you see, the orchard grass had grown so tall that even when he sat up his very straightest, johnny could not always see over the top of it.
so this morning he failed to see farmer brown's boy coming.
but sammy jay, sitting in his snug hiding-place in the top of one of the old apple-trees, saw him.
at first sammy jay's sharp eyes twinkled.
there would be some fun now!
perhaps farmer brown's boy would catch one of the little chucks!
sammy jay could picture to himself the fright of johnny chuck and the three little chucks.
he fairly hugged himself in delight, for you know sammy jay dearly loves to see other people in trouble.
then he thought of all the fun he had had watching those three little chucks learn their lessons, and suddenly the thought of anything happening to them made sammy jay feel uncomfortable.
almost without stopping to think, he screamed at the top of his lungs: "run, johnny chuck, run!
here comes farmer brown's boy!"
and johnny chuck ran.
he did n't wait to ask questions or even to look.
he started the three little chucks ahead of him, and he nipped their heels to make them run faster.
and just in time they reached the snug house under the old apple-tree in the far corner.
farmer brown's boy was just in time to see them disappear.
he watched sammy jay flying over to the green forest and screaming "thief!
thief!"
as he flew.
""i wonder now if that jay warned those chucks purposely," said he, as he scratched his head thoughtfully.
if peter rabbit had been there, he could have told him that sammy jay did, for he knows all about sammy jay and his tricks.
but peter was n't there.
the fact is, peter was very busy doing the most foolish of all the foolish things he has ever done -- trying to change his name.
you may read all about it in the adventures of peter cottontail.